Realistic or Modern Empire City: The Irish Mob - IC (Closed)

[Bellz]

Gwen Bryant
​

Trying to think of a song to sing was hard, especially now that she felt destroyed. The evidence of coming down from her high was beginning to reveal itself rather quickly and she knew that if she didn’t use again soon, she would be in for a whole lot of hurt. Making it to the end of the property without looking suspicious was going to be difficult, and as much as she was appreciating Bailey’s company, she knew she wouldn’t be able to make it much longer.

The trembling in her hands grew worse and she grabbed at the fabric of her dress as her palms grew sweaty. Her thoughts were hardly on the song choice anymore and guilt slightly nudged her as she looked at the redhead in front of her. She was looking adorable, waiting for her to sing. It had been so long since Gwen had sang...she wasn’t even sure if she could sound as good as she use too. ”I’m...I’m...just not...sure.” her teeth chattered from the harsh shaking she was experiencing. Luckily, before the women could go any further, Braden showed up to say hello to Bailey and it was Gwen’s chance to escape.

”We-ll should...probably get...back to the party.” she tried to say as quickly as she could before waving to both of them. Turning away, she headed off away from the rose garden towards the back grassy area. She hadn’t seen her brother at the side of the house in the dark and thought she was basically in the clear. Her head was already telling her to go, that no one would notice that she was gone.

Feet moving a little quicker, she rounded the corner of the larger home to reveal the grassy area, in the distance was the back of the property, where she intended on going. It was an illness, this thing she had. It possessed her every being and sucked the life out of her. She couldn’t live without it. Feeling sick, all she wanted was relief. Only hours ago she had gotten it, having trusted Thomas with Lorelei while she travelled to the back of the property to use. How horrible was that?

Gwen slowed suddenly, her thoughts clearing for only a moment, ”No.” she whispered out loud, stopping just beside a tree a little bit aways from where Syd and Farrid were. Her hand reached out, stumbling forwards with each step until she leaned against the sharp bark.

She squeezed it until she was sure that her palm would bleed, wanting to feel something other than the ache and sickness she was currently feeling, anything but that. Tears formed in her eyes and she shook her head. The air was cool but her skin was burning hot, causing the slight breeze to sting her flesh gently.
Mentions: Bailey Pilgrim59 ; Braden Trappy ; James Misty Gray ; Syd Pyroclast ; Farrid Inb4Cloaker
With: Open for Interaction

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

"Suit yourself." Somewhat disappointed to have Assad reject his offer, Syd let his hand drop from the man's shoulder and he turned back around with a shrug, letting his vision blur as he gazed off into the distant darkness. At least he would know that Syd would be willing to involve himself if required. To his surprise, however, Assad seemed to change his mind and came out with a small confession. Syd looked back to him and a grin formed on his face. "Ah, Veronica? You mean Savannah's guard, right? Yeah, I get it. I always had her down as an attractive woman. Cute accent, too. She might be on duty tonight but I'm sure you could -" Farrid interrupted him then, clearly needing to cut Syd off so he could add something more. The air between them grew serious all of a sudden. Intrigued by his friend's slightly nervous demeanour, the grin fell from Syd's face and he readied himself for whatever else the man had yet to confess to him.

It took no effort at all to work out who the man was referring to - although he did not mention her name, Syd was good friends with Bailey so her face sprang to mind in an instant. Despite the darkening circles that had begun to appear about his eyes, they still shone as he listened intently to Assad spill his little secret, invested with interest. It wasn't common for the two of them to have such a personal conversation; perhaps due to the alcohol, however, Syd felt totally at ease in this position and was somewhat touched to know that Farrid was also comfortable enough to confide in him about such matters. His anxiety over the situation quickly revealed itself as he got to his feet and began to pace in small circles. Syd, on the other hand, was now fully relaxed after his awkward interaction with Roxie. In fact, he had quite forgotten about her, his attention instead grasped by Assad's unfolding issue. Shuffling down a step so that he had something to lean his back against, he listened on as the man poured his heart out. Learning of a potential romance blossoming between two of his friends would naturally have drawn a smile from him, but it was clear even to Syd in his inebriated state that Assad's feelings were bothering him, that they had been weighing him down.

"First of all," he spoke up, pushing himself forward and setting his empty glass down harshly on the step beside him. "We're talking about you, okay? This is about how you feel, not about what your mam would think. Forget about that just for a minute." Seeing the desperation in Assad's eyes, Syd rose to his feet to join the man's side, hoping to bring him some ease so he might stop the anxious pacing. But as he stood he was struck by a sudden blinding dizziness and had to grab onto the wall to stop himself from falling down the steps. He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut and grimacing to brace himself against the intense spinning sensation. "Gimme a sec'," he muttered. His blood pressure had taken a dive, no doubt because of all the alcohol he had consumed in such a short space of time, and he knew now that he probably ought to stop for the rest of the night. After several seconds, Syd was able to push himself upright and reset his focus on Assad. With somewhat cautious steps, Syd made his way down to the paved ground on which his friend stood. For a moment he simply stood before the man, eyes narrowed and biting down on his lip as he struggled to remember what they had been talking about. When at last it came to him, he drew a sharp intake of breath and folded his arms. His facial expression softened into a small smile as he thought of the way Farrid had spoken of Ms Baker, as though he were hearing it for the first time again.

"You're looking at this all wrong, you little pessimist," he teased, locking eyes with the man. "Sure it's awkward living with someone you have feelings for, but let's just break this down. First, the concept of Hell was invented to keep us all in line, right, but sometimes - often - we've gotta break those religious laws to do what we have to do. Doesn't make it wrong. This business, I've had to hurt a lot of people. I know that goes against God's laws but you know, I believe I'm doing the right thing. So forget about Hell, yeah? Bailey's no saint, but red-headed demons? That's a load of bullshit."

Now invested properly in the conversation, Syd himself began to pace, gesticulating as he spoke. "But back to the point. So you live with her. Awkward, yes, but haven't you thought about how perfect that is? By all means, I am not telling you to rush into telling her how you feel - you'll know when the time is right for that - but man, you've got the perfect opportunity to show her. I mean, you see her at home every day. There's a million ways you could show her you care about her. Living together is the best way to learn about a person, and I'd be shocked if you didn't know what makes her smile by now. Cook her dinner. Run her errands when she's too busy. Run her a bath, damn, I don't know. There are a million ways you can make her feel special, that only you in your position could do." Syd paused, wondering whether mentioning his experience of living next door to Skye during the early stages of their relationship would emphasise his point. It probably would, but he decided that he didn't want to bring her into this. So instead, he simply added, "Trust me this time. I know what I'm talking about."

A moment passed as Syd took a step towards the man, settling his eyes on him with a serious but calm expression. "She's a great woman, Farrid. I think you'd do well together."

Interactions
Inb4Cloaker Assad

Pilgrim59 Bailey (mentioned)
lavendre Veronica (mentioned)

 

[Misty Gray]

Sinead Callahan​

Sinead held the cocktail stick between her delicate index finger and thumb, gently swirling it around in her drink so the perfect-looking cherry that was submerged could swim within the alcohol. She then lifted her hand to her mouth and placed the cherry inside, using her red-painted lips to pull it away to from stick so she could eat the small piece of fruit. Her eyes then caught Peter who seemed to be making his way in her direction. She hastily knocked back the rest of her cocktail before dropping the used cocktail stick into the glass and setting the drinking vessel down on the bar. She felt anxious, simultaneously worried he would walk right past her and afraid he would approach her to continue their earlier fight.

It soon became clear that Peter was indeed walking towards her with the intention of stopping to interact. He reached her before she could order another drink but in that moment, her mind was no longer focused on the need to get the waiter's attention. At least, for now it wasn't. Sinead heard her husband address her and Aliana, causing her to briefly divert her eyes off into the distance. It wouldn't have been a surprise for her to act in some sassy fashion, be it a rolling of her eyes or making a cheeky comment about her husband being a stranger. But this situation didn't call for such a reaction and deep down, she was relieved and comforted that he'd chosen to come over to her. She caught his shyness and though she knew it was likely due to the effects of their argument, it still reminded her of the endearing gentle side to her husband.

Peter then mentioned the change in music. Although Sinead had noticed the louder music, she hadn't considered it too much. Not only had her mind been elsewhere but the rock music playing was something she was all too familiar with, having told Emery many times to lower the same music down at home. For a while, it seemed like all of her children had inherited a love for classical and jazz music, but as they grew and further developed their personalities they also formed differing tastes. Savannah had always been the most like Sinead when it came to music and career choices. The woman wasn't yet sure what Emery wanted to do with her life as the teenager had given little insight into it herself. Sinead snapped out of her thoughts and looked up to Peter, allowing her eyes to meet his for a moment. "Rolling Stones, again?" she asked, rapidly learning which bands her youngest daughter now favoured. "I kind of want to see Grumpy Old James have the honour of getting on Emmy's sassy side," she joked.

Having seen the smirk on Peter's face and the casual words that had preceded it, Sinead was certain he didn't want to argue with her again. Able to relax, she was finally able to take in her husband's appearance and fully appreciate him. He looked as handsome as ever and for a time she was reminded of how much she loved Peter. She could only hope he still felt the same for her. Without a drink, her hands found themselves fidgeting with the strap of her purse. The only other place they naturally wanted to gravitate towards were her husbands hands. "Are you having a nice evening, honey?" she softly asked him.


Bellz (Peter)
Melanin-Gxdess (Aliana)

 

[Misty Gray]

Savannah Callahan​

Savannah looked to Veronica and couldn't help the warm smile that appeared on her lips as the bodyguard seemingly had her back where Andre was concerned. Although it was said in a joking manner, the blonde still read some seriousness into it. Whether it was the fact she'd been born into the mob or simply because there was still an edge to the woman's voice, Savannah trusted the woman was serious in her threat. "Cachorro?!" she repeated, managing to perfectly repeat the pronunciation despite her clear confusion as to what the word actually meant. "If he does overstep his boundaries, I will tell you," she assured Veronica. If there was something she had learned, despite the distance she'd always had from her family's business, it was to not allow anyone to overstep their mark. If an enemy or a threat was given too much leeway, they could take advantage and even become dangerous. She'd learned to be picky about who she trusted. "At the moment, he's just coming across as a bully who hides behind his profession. Telling slim girls to lose weight and picking apart perfectly good performances." She lightly shrugged her shoulders. "That's show-business, right?" she pointed out, with a forced smile and a roll of her eyes. "Got to work with some dirt-bags along the way!"

As Veronica informed her none of the guests had caught her attention, Savannah decided not to force the subject too much. After all, if she were asked the same question, she wouldn't have a juicy answer either. Most of the guests were too old or tied into the family business. She knew her parents wouldn't want her getting involved in any of that, especially given on how she'd been earlier instructed against wearing anything too revealing that would catch the attention of such men. "Well, Veronica. If you do happen to see anyone, give me a heads up. I might not be any good at finding a guy for myself, but I've managed to successfully help my friends bag themselves perfect dates."

Savannah flinched slightly at the sudden change of music. She and Emery had very different tastes, especially where music was concerned. Not that she couldn't appreciate the quality of the rock music her sister favoured, but she certainly felt it didn't belong in the present environment. Those were the kinds of thoughts Emery has labelled Savannah as a "snob" for in the past. "I love rock festivals just as much as my sister, but this isn't a festival, right?" she remarked, slowly shaking her head. Still, a smirk crossed her lips as she noticed a couple of uptight men in the corner looking altogether disapproving of the heavier sound. "There's two boring-looking old men at the other side of the room who look incredibly confused," she alerted the bodyguard, before letting out a playful giggle. "I guess I do like this music," she admitted. "Just don't tell Emmy I said that."


lavendre (Veronica)

James Porter​

"Ah, I guess I can trust you to make a speech for me. Just don't be too embarrassing, yeah?" James joked with Lucy. He knew how much effort she'd put into planning the party. Given how busy he'd been with business, he couldn't deny she'd worked harder on the evening than he had, so she deserved to be acknowledged for it. Whilst he wouldn't make a speech, he'd at least praise his wife's efforts in front of the guests. Lucy plucked the cigarette from him and James turned to her with an offended expression on his face. "Oi, cheeky..." he said, his expression soon softening to show he was playing. He took the cigarette back from her and took another drag himself. "What's mine is yours, love," he reaffirmed. "Especially the bills!"

When Lucy stood up, James followed suit and took his jacket back from her. "How about you sort Emery and the music out, while I just check on a few things out here?" he suggested as he put his jacket back on and set about fastening the buttons. "Because, y'know. I'm kind of scared of our niece," he remarked. It had been an ongoing joke that he had been scared of Emery ever since she was a small child. A small and bossy child with a very loud mouth. "I'll catch up with you in a few," he reassured his wife.

Once Lucy had returned inside, James set about walking around the garden to find the damaged flowers Warren had warned him about so he could assess how much he needed to grovel to Lucy later. Before he could find what he was looking for, he noticed Gwen apparently clinging to a tree in the garden. Deciding she wasn't going to seek him out anytime soon, James made a beeline for his sister instead. With the garden lights illuminating the area enough, James could make out the glistening tears in the woman's eyes. Knowing what his sister had been through lately, it was difficult not to think the worst, but he told himself to remain calm and neutral until he was completely sure.

"Is my party really that shit?" he greeted his sister. He studied her face for a little longer before blowing out a long breath. "What's going on, Gwen?" he seriously asked her. He didn't care if she'd got him a present or not. He cared that it had seemed like she'd been avoiding him for some time. Birthday or not, he wanted to know why.


Bellz (Lucy, Gwen)

 

[Misty Gray]

Ethan Turner​

Ethan sat back in the leather seat, his elbows resting on the chair arms whilst his hands sat in line with his face, the fingers of each hand intertwined together. The man's eyes remained focused on the cabinet ahead of him as he listened to the piece of music playing lightly in the room. Although it wasn't the rock and roll music he favoured, Ethan still held a great appreciation for classical music. He was a patient man and the break served to give him more time for contemplation; to think about what he had done and the acts he was yet to carry out. There was always purpose behind his actions and no amount of thinking time would bring forth any guilt.

The man's thoughts were soon brought to a close when he had the sound he'd been hoping would surface soon. As patient as he was, Ethan had a thirst and a mission to fulfil. The slightest of smiles threatened to creep onto his cold, impassive face as his eyes found Alistair. He nodded his head when asked if he too heard the sound. "Right you are, Sir," he agreed. There was a darkness to Ethan's voice that was diluted only by the clear enthusiasm for the task. His boss knew by now what made him tick and that the current job was met with heightened interest on Ethan's part. The man separated his hands and the dim light was enough to allow the bloodstains on his hands to become visible. Ethan stood from his seat and followed Alistair into the next room.

Ethan stopped behind the whimpering man's chair, watching on as Alistair stood face to face with their victim and pointed out their time was being wasted. When his boss reflected on how artistic the man's wounds were, Ethan took a few slower steps into view and turned so he too could marvel at their handiwork. He slowly nodded his head and displayed a proud smile. "A masterpiece," he echoed his boss' assessment.

Although the tools were ready and the man's hands were in place, Alistair was giving their captive more time to save himself. All they asked him to do was tell them where she was. Ethan remained standing tall, his eyes never once leaving the bleeding man's face. He wanted to watch closely and determine if the man was lying to them. Ethan subconsciously licked his top lip as he awaited the man's response. Either he would give them the answers they needed or he would open himself up to more torture. Both outcomes were greatly appealing.

"I don't know who you're talking about," Patrick said, desperately shaking his head. Despite the blood loss and the exhaustion, the pain still radiated through the man's body. As he looked to Alistair's face, he briefly glanced to Ethan. His attention was then fixed back on the man before him as he considered his question. They were relentless and he knew it was foolish to deny knowing the woman at all. "I don't know where she is," he said, his lie concealed by his desperate tone. "We just went on a couple of dates in the city. I don't know where she lives..." he maintained, tightly closing his eyes. "Please. I don't know what this is about." He gasped for air as his heart raced in his chest and he felt overwhelmed by the fear of more pain.

Pyroclast (Alistair)

 

[Bellz]

Lucy Porter
​

Lucy rolled her eyes at her husband's fear of Emery, "She's just a teenager James, good grief." She couldn't hide the smile on her face as she said that, knowing that it was just an ongoing joke he had made ever since the girl was small. "Don't take too long." She reminded him before quickly slipping into the house. Immediately, she could point out some of James' professional associates and the confusion on their faces. Lucy shook her head and set out immediately in search of the record player, knowing that Emery would be there. Once she made it to the player, she raised one brow at the redhead teenager. "Sorry Em but that shit has got to go." Before the girl could say much, Lucy grabbed the cord from the floor and unplugged the whole thing all together, not bothering trying to fight her niece to get out of the way of the turn table. The music suddenly scratched and cut short, successfully turning off the loud rock music.

"Where did you even get the record from?" She asked curiously, not aware that they had the Rolling Stones in their collection of music. Now wasn't the time to worry about that specifically however, she had to figure out who was going to perform for the party now. People were most likely growing tired of the music from the player and wanted to listen to something that would really grab their attention. She noticed not many people were dancing and that had to change quickly.

Looking to Emery, she smiled widely, knowing just how to get her to do as she wanted. "Hey. Listen kid, you get your sister over here for a moment and I will get you whatever kind of drink you like? How does that sound?" Knowing that Emery was a drinker, as Lucy was herself at that age, she figured it would be an easy trade off.
with: Emery Misty Gray

Peter Callahan
​

Peter looked his wife up and down, only now noticing the beautiful and enticing outfit she was wearing. It was sad that he hadn't noticed it earlier, but it was better late than never in his opinion, and now he could finally appreciate his wife. He noticed that her hands fumbled with the straps of her purse when normally they would be holding each others hands. He was sure that she was apprehensive about showing any sort of affection to him and he understood completely. Instead of taking the initiative to show affection, Peter decided to remain where he was for now, not wanting to make his wife uncomfortable. At her question, the man smiled softly, "Its been an alright evening, had a few talks with the girls but I have yet to speak with Braden, who I'm sure is around here somewhere." He watched her for a long moment, he finally said what he was thinking, "You look incredible Sinny, really." He sighed softly, taking a step closer to her. Noting that Ali was still there with them, he didn't make any sort of intimate move but his eye portrayed his feeling of regret. "I know I was an asshole back at the house...I talked with Emery and believe it or not, she really opened my eyes. The kids right, we are far too old to be fighting like children...and I really shouldn't be instigating things."

Then, he lifted his hand to take hers, "I'm really sorry Sinead, you don't have to forgive me, really. I just got jealous I guess, and I really don't know why. That asshole you work with would never make a move on you, I mean, he understands who he's working with right?" He questioned softly, wanting to make sure the man knew that if he tried anything, Peter would come after him with a few mob members behind him. The music seemed to be getting louder and louder, and as much as he loved Emery, it was starting to grate on his nerves a bit. "You think we could get Emery to turn that off?" He asked but just as he said the words, the record cut and the room went silent besides the discussions going on around them.

Peter raised his eyebrows to both of the ladies before him and wondered who went to turn off the music, who could be brave enough to take on Emery when it came to her music selection? Wondering if it was James, Peter shook his head lightly, "Maybe the grumpy Old Man had enough of the music." He chuckled before taking a sip of the scotch he had forgotten he had in his free hand.[/B]
with: Sinead Misty Gray ; Ali Melanin-Gxdess

 

[Bellz]

Gwen Bryant
​

Gwen could hear the crunching of dry grass, indicating someone was headed her way. She didn't move however, even though she had the feeling she knew who it was. Through the tears, her brother managed to put a small smile on her face with his greeting. Not bothering to hide her face any longer, the woman looked towards James as he studied her face. It was agonizing as she waited for him to say something, anxiety weighed heavily on her chest. When asked what was wrong, the redhead hung her head low and squeezed her eyes shut. Everything was going on with her and all she wanted was peace. "I'm trying.." She croaked out. "So hard..."voice only above a whisper, she squeeze the bark even harder until she was sure the bark punctured her soft skin. There was a pause for a moment and all was quiet, not even the music played inside any longer.

Listening to the crickets chirping, Gwen lifted her head and stared her brother right in the eyes. Though tears were in them, her eyes felt dry to the point of being painful. The trembling continued and her mouth dried, "I know what you think of me, " She managed to say, "I'm not fit to be a mother...I'm not fit to be anything anymore." There was some self pity there in her tone, but she soon clarified, "Lorelei deserves so much better than what she got." Reaching into her clutch, Gwen pulled out a cigarette from its box and grabbed a lighter. Once lit, she took a long drag, hoping that it would calm her nerves.

"I've failed again..." Gwen said vaguely, not even wanting to go into detail as she was sure he knew what she meant. Last night had been her downfall. She had tried to stay clean for 3 whole weeks and last night, she failed. She took an incredibly long drag from the cigarette and held it in for a few long moments. She could practically feel the nicotine coating her nerves, it was thin, but it was something. Her eyes stared at James once again, from the way she stood to the way she looked at him, it was clear that she was expecting another confrontation.

Gwen felt horrible, she couldn't do this to her brother on his birthday. She loved him so much and felt like she had to do her best in his eyes. Now she was living in his house, taking advantage of his time and money. "I can pack up my shit and leave, but please I can't do that to Lorelei, it's not her fault I'm such a junkie." Her heart raced as she thought about where her daughter would go, she didn't want James and Lucy to have to take in another child. "I can take care of her, really. I love her so much, she's my everything...I don't think I would even be at this party if it wasn't for her being born. I just can't take care of her now."
with: James Misty Gray

 

[Pyroclast]

Alistair Sawyer

Despite the evident pain that the man was in, it seemed that he was unwilling to cooperate with Alistair and Ethan's demands. This disappointed Alistair, but he was not in despair about it. The truth was, the boss had eyes out on the streets looking for the woman already; this was just a chance to propel the search forward. If the man that they held captive was not going to be of any help in finding her, however, then they would simply have to find her by their own means. Still, now that they had him tied up it seemed a waste to give up the questioning and set him free. Alistair looked at the man through narrowed eyes, his stare cold and unwavering. After listening patiently to the man's desperate pleas, Alistair watched as he gasped for air, the terror in his glistening eyes clear as day. Although his own facial expression remained hard as stone, it brought him great satisfaction in watching him squirm and sweat under the pressure being imposed on him.

"Patrick, Patrick, Patrick..." he sighed, straightening up and peering down at him. His voice was deep, menacing yet calm. "I can tell you're scared. Do you want to know how I can tell?" Drawing a deep breath, Alistair took a few steps away from the man, resuming his slow pace from before. "Because your words don't add up. You say you know nothing of the woman, then go on to tell us that you in fact went on two dates together. Clearly, you're all...mixed up.

"It's a shame, really. With that kind of contradictory behaviour, you give me little reason to put faith in your words. I wish I could, I really do - if I knew you were telling me the truth, we could call this job done in a heartbeat." The room fell silent once more as Alistair retraced his steps, moving back towards the man in the chair. He picked up one of the skewers, rolling it slowly between his fingers and watching neat glimmers of light bounce off its surface. "But as it happens, I think you're lying."

Keeping a short distance away, Alistair extended the skewer towards the man's chest and skimmed it along his fresh, open wounds, pulling lightly at the torn edges of flesh. When he pulled the skewer back towards him he held it at an angle, watching the blood run down until it dripped onto the floor. Then, moving in closer, Alistair dragged the tip of the skewer across the man's bound fingers, counting in a whisper as the skewer touched each fingernail. "I wonder what it'll take..." he muttered, in a voice so low it was barely audible. "What do you think, Turner? How many of these skewers do you think we'll be cleaning at the end of the night?"

Standing tall, Alistair looked down on the pitiful man, clearly terrified out of his wits. "Tell me, Patrick, are you right-handed?" He tapped the man's right hand with the skewer. "Or left?" Then tapped his other hand. Heaving a sigh, he added, "I suppose it doesn't matter. Especially since you're so adamant that you have nothing to tell us. There's plenty you can do with one of these things, you know." A menacing grin flashed across his face. "Now, Patrick. Pick a number from one to ten..."

His grin was then replaced with a look of concentration as he carefully positioned the metal skewer beneath one of the man's fingernails. With a quick nod to the hammer on the table, he then looked to Ethan and beckoned him over so that the butcher could take the skewer from him, and perform the deed.

Interactions
Misty Gray Ethan, Patrick

 

[Misty Gray]

James Porter​

When his sister told him she was trying hard, James firmly nodded in agreement and hopefully encouragement. He was glad to hear she was doing everything she could. However, she went on to say he didn't think she was fit to be a mother to Lorelei and that caused him to tightly fold his arms in front of his chest. He took a step forward and studied Gwen closer, taking in her tired eyes and her nervous demeanour. As she lit up a cigarette, he prepared to question if she had relapsed, but she beat him to it and informed him she'd failed. "How? When?" he calmly asked. He jaw tightened as he thought of what she was meant to have been doing just a few hours ago. "You've been looking after Thomas and Lorelei today. How have you failed?" he questioned her. Had she not been taking proper care of the children, he expected, or hoped, he would have known about it by now.

"So you've been using again?" he flatly asked her. He unfolded his arms and placed them in his trouser pockets, shaking his head as he looked to the ground. "What will it take for you to try harder? Stop and think about what you're doing, for fuck sake, Gwen!" he firmly told her, his tone reflecting his deep frustration. "You have a beautiful daughter and an endless amount of talent. You have so much to to feel proud of and a daughter who idolises you. Fucking hell, Gwen!" He removed his right hand from his pocket and brought it up to rub the back of his head as if it was going to help him think.

When she threatened packing up and leaving, James rapidly shook his head. "You're not leaving this house and you're certainly not leaving your daughter. Lorelei needs you and you need to get clean. If I let you leave, getting clean is the last thing you'll do, I'm sure of it!" James took a deep breath and his features visibly softened from his previously stern expression. "Stop hiding from me and trying to keep this secret. How can I help you if you won't cooperate with me?" James once again folded his arms. "I already failed to protect Eli," he admitted to her. One of his biggest regrets was never being able to take care of their mentally ill brother and the man had been rotting away in jail ever since. "You're not going anywhere. I don't care if you think I'm being a dick about this, but there's no way I'm letting you run away. You have a family here that wants you to get through this. But most of all. you owe it to Lorelei to sort your shit out."

Bellz (Gwen)

 

[Fletchawk]

Ryan Donahue
Los Angeles, February 1961
​

Water splashed across Ryan's beaten face. It was room temperature, but there was more than enough to make him return to consciousness. His body wasted a bit of what little energy he'd recovered from passing out with a reflexive gasp that was more of a raspy inhale. The fact that he still hanging by his arms told him that he was in the same place that he'd been for the last couple of days. At least, that's what Ryan guessed to how long he'd been there. The only thing he knew was that he'd been punched 149 times, hit with a golf club 15 times, and there was a crowbar involved, but he was coming and going like a revolving door at that point, so he was unsure of the actual count. Most of it happened during the initial session, and had tapered off as time went on, but counting the hits served as a focal point for him to endure the punishment. Ryan was ready to start keeping score again, as there was now little else for him to do as he waited for the hits to continue.

"So that's the lunatic that attacked you and your boys?" Ryan almost didn't catch it as he normally let the men's voices fade out as they dealt their damage.

"Yea, Boss. That's him, a tough fucker. Smart-ass too, but we fixed that."

"This all he had on him? Not very flush for a night out."

Ryan could hear the familiar snap of his holster, before the man he knew as Alfie continued, "He had this, but he gave it up when Louis patted him down."

There was a pause in the conversation, and Ryan could hear a pair of shoes scuffing concrete as their owner approached him. 'One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven...' he counted, the last one slapping the water and other bodily fluids that had pooled beneath him. It was only then that Ryan struggled to open the one eye that hadn't swollen shut, and even then, his vision was blurred. As to be expected, the lighting wasn't great in whatever hole they were in, but it was enough to see the light colored suit and the chunky outline that wore it standing in front of him, staring at the contents of his wallet as if in thought.

"So yous tellin' me, dis guy shows up at the club, with no green on him, gives up his piece, then proceeds to beat the tar outta you, and most of da boys because he's a loony?" the Boss asked, raising his head to meet Ryan's one-eyed gaze, "If I was bettin', I'd say dat's a load of horseshit."

"You calling me a liar?" Alfie said, his displeasure at being called out obvious in his tone.

"Depends. Is Mr. Donahue from Chicago gonna to tell me there was a reason why he tore you and your boys a couple of new ones, or are you?"

It took a few seconds for the exhausted Ryan realize that he was being given a chance to say something. However, it took a huge effort to push even the two words past his parched throat and swollen lips.

"Bad. Deal."

"A bad deal?" The man in charge repeated, as Ryan's pronunciation was harsh and barely audible.

Ryan nodded slowly to confirm the words, although it pained him to do so. "Oh really? Color me surprised!" the man said as he walked away from Ryan, his tone blatantly facetious, as his attention now focused entirely on Alfie. "I'm sure that you'll tell me next that Alfie here scammed you out of about five grand, and you tried to get him to cough up the money, or whatever it is you payed him for. Right?"

Even in his haze, Ryan could tell that man was no longer talking to him, and Alfie, although he was several inches taller than his superior, was starting to look very small next to him. As he could almost hear Alfie thinking of something to say, Ryan closed his eye as so there was one less thing aching as he tried to focus what was said next. Ryan was very aware that he'd never leave this spot alive, so he'd at least try to enjoy the show. As Alfie continued to stay quiet, the air became thick with tension, and after a few moments of it, the man let loose a heavy sigh.

"Look, I trust ya, Alfie. Really, I do. It's thanks to ya finding that mole that we got the one up on the Marino Family. So I'll give you another chance. But, no side business from now on, capiche?" he said, as the sound of Alfie being patted firmly on the back reached Ryan's ears.

Alfie chuckled a bit in relief once he realized he was off the hook, "Thank you, Mr. Di Giorgio. I swear it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't, and don't forget to apologize either." Mr. Di Giorgio reminded his subordinate matter-of-factly.

"Uhmm..." Alfie started, caught off guard by the request, "I'm sorry about all this, Boss."

"Not me, idiot. Him."

"..."

"..."

The uncomfortable silence was noticeable, albeit brief as Alfie eventually questioned it, "Him? Why?"

Although Ryan had made peace with dying in a dirty hole back on Korea, he was preparing himself for his seemingly imminent execution once Alfie had been forgiven. Forcing his eye open again, Ryan looked around the room to the best of his ability to make sure that he was indeed the only other person beside Alfie and his boss. This actually led to more questions that only served to make Ryan's head ache more than it already did.

"Did ya not learn to apologize to people when ya fucked something up as a kid? Christ! Go look him in the eyes, and do a proper apology!" ordered the overweight mobster in an even tone, which was accompanied by some blurry hand motions.

Alfie didn't say anything for awhile, as though he was waiting for Mr. Giorgio to say he was joking, but eventually started walking towards Ryan, at a slower pace than his boss did, but with one less stride. Even with one eye and blurred vision, he could tell Alfie was confused as to why he was supposed to apologize to Ryan. Especially since the ugly purplish blot around his eye had yet to dissipate. Ryan would've liked to of made it a pair, but timely bouncers pulled him off before it could happen.

Taking one last look at his boss, Alfie finally stepped up to the plate. "I'm sorry." As it took longer than it should've for the man to spit out the words, Ryan closed his eye and readied himself to be killed shortly after the apology.

The sharp cracks of gunshots ripped through the room. Magnified in the contained space, Ryan couldn't help but cry out from pain that they assailed his broken senses. Although his eye was open, the blinding pain consumed his senses as everything went white. Just as the echoes were fading into ringing, more shot rang out. Proving too much for his current condition, Ryan fainted, never knowing what happened in that room after the rounds were fired.

* * *​

The whiteness would eventually fade to black, and dreams of redheaded sirens would haunt him until he awoke to the rhythmic beep of his own heartbeat. Although the pain was mostly dulled, his body remained stubborn to his wishes. His eyes would eventually give in and show him the darkened hospital room he lay in. His vision was unfocused, but he reasoned it was likely a sedative or painkiller as the cause. Still, he was able to make out the shape of the woman that was sleeping curled up in the chair in the room. Ryan wasn't able to see her face, as it was tucked away, but Su-yeong was the only one he knew in the City of Angels. Deciding that the best and easiest thing to do was to sleep, he shifted into the least painful position and let himself drift away.

 

[Bellz]

Gwen Bryant
​

Gwen knew James would be firm with her, luckily he wasn't heaping mad. She listened to his words, flinching at everything he said, she only nodded silently as he continued on. Once he was finished, the redhead had already finished her cigarette and was moving on to light another one. Her nerves were shot. His words towards the end had hurt her more than anything, about Eli. Gwen didn't get to know the man well but she loved him just as much as she did James. Silence fell between them for a moment, she took a long drag from her second cigarette, blowing it out thoughtfully before speaking. "You don't always need to protect us James...somethings are simply out of your control." She had thought the conversation with her brother would get her so anxious that she would do something rash. But it had a different effect on her...now that she was letting him in. God knows how long that would last, but she needed to take advantage of it while she could.

"You're not a dick." Pushing off the tree, she looked to her hand that was pressed harshly against the tree. Seeing light puncture marks that were beginning to bleed, she sighed deeply before wiping the blood against her dress, not caring what she look like at this point in the night. Walking towards her brother, she opened up her arms and wrapped them around him quickly. "Thank you, Jimbo. Why are you always right?" She wondered lightly. After another moment, she stepped back and released him from her weak grasp. Careful not to burn him with the cigarette still burning between her fingers, the redhead took a step back and offered him the best smile she could conjure up. "I'm sure everyone has told you how ancient you are by now, so I'll spare you. But Happy Birthday big bro...Dad would be proud of you, I know it. Heck, I'm proud of you. I know that's not much coming from your little drug addict sister...but I'm really amazed with all that you do and everyone you help."

Sucking in another deep breath Gwen cleared her throat, "Now I'm probably getting to sappy for your liking." She didn't mention the gift at first because she really didn't have one...but changing her mind, she decided to be honest with him. "I don't have a gift." She stated simply. "I'm basically broke...and I feel like I'm not going to be able to hold a job long enough. I'll still try to look for something, I promise. Then I can get you that gift."
with: James Misty Gray

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
The Porter's Residence, Queens, New York
July 2nd, 1971 (Evening)

Interacted: Braden ( Trappy )
Mentioned: Gwen ( Bellz )

​

Like a volcano of emotions, the erratic redhead was all but calm. What the southern girl had thought was a good chance for the two to escape the crowd had backfired. Perhaps she should not have pressed on. In the fleeting moment, Bailey was carried away by her own selfish thoughts. She was indeed earnest to lend an ear to what Gwen had to say via a song, but perhaps it was best that the latter should not be put on the spotlight as thus. With every second pass, Bailey could see Gwen's ruptured emotions gradually, but surely, unveiling forth. The prior stood there, feeling helpless. The sorrowful memories that she had put behind her was growing evermore vivid in the form of a woeful Gwen. Bailey studied her troubled eyes, and knew that she had probably done a terrible thing by pressing Gwen to sing. But there was something more to it. Call it her feminine intuitions, or tingling sixth senses, Bailey could only abide by the woman's stuttering words, filled with unspoken remarks.

"W-Wait! Miss Bryant! I didn't mean to-... I'm sorr-" Bailey reached out with her voice, but the woman had already vanished.

Behind her, remained a defeated creature in red. Her teeth clenched beneath her frowning lips. She had done it now. Bailey reminisced what could have been, and reflected on what had happened as a result. No matter how resolute she was in her earnest, albeit frank ways to go about things, Bailey has yet to learn the right approaches to certain situations. Words were as dangerous as forged steels. She knew this truth, but was unable to dispel Gwen's troubles, and only worsened it. Bailey felt it gnawing at her soul, of which was aching with the aftermath of her shortcomings. This was one of the reason why she discerned herself from parties. It was not to get away from people, but fearing that her spewing words would be all but compromising. The heavy air of erupted emotions and anguish yet lingered. These thoughts plagued the girl's mind, as she attempted to reach out with her hands, but ultimately gave in to the untimely tidings of another figure. Bailey let out a guilty sigh, as she turned towards a familiar voice that caught her in the thick of it.

"Hello, Miss Bailey. Pleasant evening?"

Braden's greeting was ironic to Bailey's heart at the time. She was not one to procure a lie should she said yes - at least for the first few minutes of the party. She let out a heavy sigh, as she tried to swallow up her dereliction and the troubles that she had caused for Gwen. Despite her known profession among the gang, she was still a girl at heart, and with it, came the aftermath of her dilemmas. While she did not put up a pouty visage, one could see clearly in her eyes and straight posture.

"It's just Bailey tonight..." she replied, with a certain melancholic tone about it, while clearing Braden's address of 'miss' around her. She meant it both for the current situation and herself.

"... I suppose it could have been better, but I'll be right as rain. How are ya, Braden? You wouldn't mind if we fix ourselves a couple o' drinks, would ya?" Bailey sighed again - this time slightly softer.

She needed another glass, and perhaps time to think about what she should do to make up to Gwen. The melancholic southerner shied away from Braden's eyes, as she felt the calm, yet distressed breeze blanketing her tragic grasps of reality.

 

[RayPurchase]

Mitchell Van Gerwen
Porter Residence

​

Mitch's grin broadens as she smiles shyly at him, the smile growing slightly and the sadness around her deep blue eyes beginning to drop. You could get lost in those two oceans if he looked too deeply. I mean she had appeared stunning across the floor, but up close and personal... he could easily have just started babbling about her. He chuckles at her comment about having her company, running a hand through his hair and almost looking a bit sheepish.

“Oh you’re far better than the company I normally keep, besides I’m the one who should be apologising. You’re the one chatting to a lawyer at a party, that’s like being stuck with the accountant or the one guy who works in finance, you ask the innocent question of what they do and you’re trapped listening to fiscal economics for the next 2 hours. There's a reason why they don’t let us out of the office and to these sort of social gigs,”

He takes the proffered hand and gives it a shake, equally delicate. We can leave the kissing of the hand and the muttering of French pleasantries, his accent is awful and that sort of cliché died a death for a very good reason.

“ And of course the pleasure is mine. Mitch Van Gerwen, but please no need for the Misters, otherwise I’ll be terrified that my father is standing two paces behind me...”

The music comes to a sudden halt, the background hum of the conversations coming rushing to the foreground. He raises and eyebrow, looking about, I mean there was no point, with the throng of partygoers he wasn’t sure what he would have been able to see.

“It appears the music wasn’t quite agreeing with someone. Shame really I mean who doesn’t like a bit of the Stones, still at least removes the temptation to embarrass myself with some quite awful dance moves. I can spare everyone here that pain,”

(Interactions: Bellz Roxie)

 

[Bellz]

Roxanne Carriveau
​

Extremely interested in the man before her as he explained that he was a lawyer, she smiled with amusement at his words. His name was Mitch and Roxie felt the name suited him well, in a way she just couldn’t explain aloud. Noting that he too seemed to have issues with his father from the words he spoke, Roxie lifted her glass and took another sip before politely setting it down. Just as she was about to speak again, the music that had mysteriously changed was mysteriously halted on minutes later. Roxie laughed lightly as she looked to Mitch, Can’t dance alone, tesoro. I’ve got a reputation for being the worst dancer in my family.” Her tone was light, though she was careful about being flirtatious. Her eyes glanced down towards Mitch’s hands, looking for any sign of a ring. Relieved not to see one, Roxie bit her lip. With the music off, there was an opportunity for more conversation.

Turning to her glass, she grasped the leg of it lightly twirling the contents around. Her wide blue eyes remained on Mitch as she seemed to assess him, ”A lawyer who likes the Stones? Maybe I was wrong about you lot.” she paused to take a drink before speaking again, figuring her words were needing to be explained more.

”My parents always wanted me to become a lawyer. I got into the best schools in New York...but not all because of my smarts I hate to admit...” Roxie tilted her head slightly, her dark curls falling over her shoulder in waves. ”I didn’t really think I would make a good lawyer really. Harvard did..but I just didn’t belong in a place like that...” when silence fell between them, the brunette looked away from the lawyer.

”I think the wine is finally starting to hit me.” She giggled out before covering her smile with her hand. Her eyes shyly looked back to the man next to her. He was much easier to talk to, a breath of fresh air. Her cheeks warmed at her behavior, normally acting far more collected.

Syd was in the back of her mind now. His sour mood and rude behavior would be dealt with at a later date. She tried to be nice and that’s all she could do. There was a man in front of her who wanted to be in her company. ”So Mitch, I’m afraid the last person in my company didn’t appreciate the fact that I asked questions...would you mind if I asked where you are from?”
With: Mitch RayPurchase

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad

​

Truly committing to his feelings was no easy task, but Syd seemed willing to help him navigate through his own emotional faults regarding such a situation. There were many factors egging him on to make a move, but there was also a rising tide of contraindications in their wake. After delivering his reasons, Assad casted a curious glance at the nightclub owner. Farrid didn’t expect to see such a look of interest reflecting back at him, and felt his anxiety ease with the knowledge that Syd was indeed ready to help him. Perhaps there was a way to establish a firm course of action for this, or maybe the medic would have to rely on the same tactic he had been using for months; keep his interests silent until they were no longer his interests at all. Everything fades away in time, all he had to do was ride the waves until he could discreetly move on.

When Syd made his staggering step towards Farrid, the medic instinctively stepped closer with his arms outstretched, intending to brace the man if he toppled over. With a patient pause, Assad waited for his friend to regain balance before lowering his stance back. The Syrian driver remained silent while his newfound counselor began to give his insight. The first point was correct, he didn’t have to worry about his mother’s input on his life, much less regarding who he is involved with. Unfortunately, the next statement about religious affairs was it’s own separate dilemma. Straying from whatever higher power one may believe in can take its toll on some, and the prior insurgent was not spared such a cost. His beliefs were altered, annihilated, and reborn altogether over the course of his life. Occasionally, he dictated his actions based on them, allowing his religious motivations to rule over his existence with the illusion that each and every move he made was predetermined. While he did eventually start to push away such fanatic devotion, the medic was never able to completely remove the core belief of a higher power from his mind. Like Syd, the prior insurgent also hurt people, yet in his view, it was not against his beliefs to do so. Despite this, Assad did acknowledge the nightclub owner’s take on “red headed demons,” that was certainly ignorant in its own right, and the medic couldn’t associate Baker with evil just because she had red hair.

Crossing his arms in the same manner that a younger man who was receiving a lecture from a disappointed parent would, Farrid listened on without interruption. While he did cast a skeptical glance towards Syd at the mention of a bath, the rest of his information was valid. He did know her decently well, or so he thought, so there should be no reason for him to be stumped when it came to doing something polite. Interests were shared between the two, and they had a mutual friendship, which was something the prior insurgent didn’t want to corrupt by bringing forth his thoughts. Therefore, the medic realized that he wasn’t worried about his established attraction, he was afraid of the consequences it would inevitably bring with it should he fail. Acts of kindness weren’t an issue, as he assisted Bailey whenever he was physically able to already. Torn between potential benefits and overwhelming risks, the medic was leaning towards being idle and safe. If the alternative meant an uncomfortable experience and feelings that were not mutual, Farrid would sacrifice his own chance at happiness to avoid a poor outcome.

It was very convenient that they already lived together, however, it seemed more like a deterrent to Assad rather than a positive. At least if he tried and failed while living elsewhere, he would be able to embrace the result in peace and solitude, rather than seeing the very same person day in and day out. Feeling as though he was making progress towards settling the internal war that raged through his courage and fear, Farrid caught Syd’s gaze with more resolve. At the mention of trust, Assad replied in a determined manner while lightly clasping the nightclub owner on the shoulder.

“Syd, you know I’d follow you through any battle, of course I trust you this time and every other time, but that’s not the point I’m-“ The Syrian driver was cut off, being informed that they would make a good pair. That’s just it though, they might, nothing is certain if he pushes for that kind of relationship. What is certain, fortunately, is a continuation of the friendship they have going if Farrid keeps his mouth shut, desires repressed, and allows this all to blow over. Assad didn’t dare say ‘what if’ to the man alongside him, in worries of agitating his already inebriated state by displaying the pessimistic attitude he was just flagged on. Dropping his hand from Syd’s shoulder, Farrid ran his fingers along his scalp, a quiet groan of exasperation fleeing from his mouth.

“Ah, fuck, this is ridiculous.” Uttered the medic, at a loss for how else to refer to this situation aside from it just being bizarre. Coming full circle, he took a mental step back and divided everything into two sides. This type of problem solving helped him countless times before, so it was worth a shot here. On one side, he could stay silent, ride the waves, and avoid his feelings. It would be the easy, practical path to follow. Syd did state before that the mob and love don’t match, and with a few gradually degrading relationships around him, it was easy to believe that phrase without question. Risks caused problems, and problems got people killed. He learned that out east as well.

But this wasn’t the east, was it?

He wasn’t at war, and he wasn’t at odds with an enemy. This wasn’t a tactical plan he was thinking about, this was his own personal life. The results of this failing would be negative, and hurt Farrid’s pride; something he holds high and true. Yet, that’s all it would hurt if he allowed it. He wouldn’t die, others wouldn’t die, and the punishment wouldn’t be as catastrophic in the grand scheme of things. Gritting his teeth, Assad looked away from Syd as the strife within him reached its peak. If he stayed the same, stuck to his normal mentality, and left this all to die unnoticed, he’d survive the whole thing with nobody aside from the nightclub owner being remotely aware.

Farrid was tired of surviving though, he’s been doing that long before he had a purpose in life. No, shuffling day to day with this wasn’t the way to experience possibilities, it was the way to just survive. He wanted to live. The whole reason he left the confines of his home was to build a future for himself, but his vision would go unrecognized if he couldn’t abandon his fear of risks.

Without breaking the silence, his thoughts shifted back to the note he was reading earlier in the car, and the particular wording it carried with it. If he felt a need to return to the past, he could simply embrace what the paper had said, but it wasn’t an option that Assad wanted to consider. Wishing to spite his far away friend for the way he casted such an underhanded insult at him, the medic gave in to the nightclub owner’s advice. Shoulders sagging, Assad felt his body let loose the tension that had been built up during the conversation, and Farrid issued his verdict.

“You’re right, I should just... let it happen. If it doesn’t work, so what? Nothing lost, nothing gained. I’ll try what you said, Syd, thank you.” While his words sounded sincere, the prior insurgent still felt those core doubts within his body. He told the younger Porter that he would make an effort, but he didn’t know if he’d actually follow through with it. For all Farrid knew, when he woke up the next morning, he’d have lost the fire he established to pursue the woman, and he’d be back to square one. Now, it was a question of fortitude, and how prepared Farrid was to step out of his comfort zone and stay on track.

اصنع اختيارك

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: Syd Porter Pyroclast​

 

[Misty Gray]

James Porter​

James shrugged his shoulders when Gwen told him he didn't always have to look out for them. "You're my family, Gwen. You're important to me and I don't want to see you hurt," he told her. He then shrugged his shoulders and let out a brief, bittersweet laugh. "Dad wasn't there for you and he was barely there for Eli. I'm not our old man, but I have the power to make sure everyone I care about is safe, so why wouldn't I do that?"

When his sister told him he wasn't a dick, James let out a long sigh. She then followed by quickly wrapping her arms around him. "Ohh. Okay. We're doing this now..." he sarcastically remarked. Regardless of his words, he placed one arm around her and pulled her in a little closer. "We'll see if you're still saying the same later, because I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you off that shit. You might hate me for it, but that's a risk I'm willing to take," he warned her. They soon broke away from the embrace and James rolled his eyes at her comment about him being ancient. When she went on to say people were proud of him, including how Ronan would have been, James couldn't stop his cheeks from turning a deep shade of red. "I've got to try cling onto what's left of my conscience, right?" he asked, downplaying how much he genuinely wanted to help his loved ones.

"No gift? Well, you're not getting a piece of my cake," he drily remarked. "Fuck sentiments. I want a present, Gwen. You've got until the end of the month, else I'm sending the debt collectors in," he teased her. The situation around Gwen's addiction was serious and James would be treating it as such. For now, he was treading delicately. It was his party and he needed to keep the drama to a minimum as well as the fact he didn't want to risk his sister attempting to sneak off and render him unable to intervene. Things would get tough and he wasn't going to tiptoe around her if she didn't respond to his softer approach.

Bellz (Gwen)

 

[Misty Gray]

Sinead Callahan​

Sinead listened intently as Peter told her how his evening had been. "Oh, I'm sure Brady is keeping entertained. He's a sensible boy," she told him. The redhead then caught her husband as he observed her, causing her to briefly direct her focus to one side as she wondered what he could be thinking. Then he told her she looked incredible and Sinead turned back to him, unable to hide the gentle smile that seemed to meet her large eyes. "Thank you, Petey. I had hoped you would like this dress," she admitted. Her cheeks turned a rosy red as the man stepped closer to her. "You look super handsome yourself. Kind of sad I haven't been able to look good next to you all evening."

When Peter began to apologise for their argument, Sinead briefly looked to Aliana to make sure her friend wasn't feeling too awkward. She then looked back to her husband and softly nodded along. "Emmy did that?" she asked, surprised to hear how their youngest daughter had provided Peter with some insight. Hearing the teenager had been mature about it made Sinead feel less inclined to yell at her about her antics the previous night and perhaps approach the situation more peacefully, by treating Emery like an adult. As much as she hated to admit it, their youngest wasn't a child anymore. "She is right. We have been fighting like children," she admitted.

Sinead looked down when Peter reached for her hand and she took hold of his, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Of course I forgive you, honey. It hurts me when we argue and when you get upset with me, but we've been through so much. I love you and I don't want to lose you," she reassured him. Aware they weren't alone, she leaned her head towards Peter and placed a quick, soft kiss on his lips before moving her face away. She was in agreement about the music having outstayed its welcome, but it was then thankfully switched off. "I'm surprised the Old Man hasn't retreated to bed yet," she joked. She then glanced to the drink Peter was holding. "I had my fill of booze last night. If you want to enjoy the free bar tonight, I'll look after the kids... and maybe even you!" she offered.

Sinead hadn't been oblivious to what Peter had been saying about "that asshole" she worked with and she felt she owed it to her employee not to ignore her husband's words. Or was it a threat? She softly sighed and looked up to meet her husband's eyes. "Scott wouldn't try to make a move on me or anything like that," she reassured Peter. "He's a great bar manager and he's very committed to supporting my club. We are friends and he saw I needed to cheer up, which is why he encouraged me to stay out last night, but nothing else. If anything, I think he has the hots for one of the barmaids!" she said, with a grin. Her features then turned more serious. "He's a good person. I'm sure of it."

Bellz (Peter)
Melanin-Gxdess (Aliana) ?

 

[Misty Gray]

Ethan Turner​

Patrick breathed heavily and desperately as Alistair continued to address him. His captor made clear he knew of his contradictions. His lies. He quickly nodded his head when Alistair suggested he was all mixed up. Perhaps the man would understand the torture was messing with his thoughts and coherence. "Why would I want to go through this? If I could tell you what you want to know, I would..." he cried at the man. "Please!"

Ethan had remained standing close by, observing the scene whilst remaining unmoved and cold to the tortured man's peril. His vision only shifted when he watched his boss retrieve the skewer and drag it down Patrick's already torn and bloodied flesh. When the sharp metal skewer was directed towards the man's fingers, Ethan knew the time for him to get back to work was fast approaching. Soon enough, Alistair asked how many skewers would be put to use and the man cocked his head to one side as he observed Patrick's face. The man had done well to last as long as he had but he could see his resolve was weakening and he was sure it was only a matter of time. "I think we can keep a few aside for my Nan's barbecue on Sunday. Patrick needs three. Maximum," he casually replied, as though they were having the most casual of conversations.

When asked which hand he favoured, Patrick frantically shook his head. He couldn't answer such a question. With his hands bound to the chair and the sharp tool touching his fingers there was no way he would answer such a question. "Please. She's a good woman. She's changed and she just wants a normal life. Leave her be..." he pleaded, the tears streaming down his cheeks. He wanted to fight so much for her, but he wasn't sure how much more he could take. Even the relatively newfound love couldn't protect him from this.

On Alistair's cue, Ethan reached for the hammer, tossing it so it spun in the air before catching the tool by the handle. He then approached Patrick, taking the skewer in his own hand and aligning it beneath the tip of Patrick's right middle fingernail. With no time to waste, Ethan used the hammer to strike the end of the skewer, sending the sharp tip ripping Patrick's nail off whilst also tearing deep into the flesh of the top half of the man's finger. Patrick screamed out in pain and yelled for them to stop. Ethan ignored the man and took the second skewer. This time, he focused on the middle finger of the man's left hand, wanting to appease his own need for symmetry. Once again, he used the hammer and skewer to rip off the second of the man's fingernails. By now, the blood was already pouring from both injured fingers. After briefly observing the effects, Ethan took the third skewer.

"WAIT!" Patrick shouted as he gasped for air. He took a moment to compose his breathing enough to speak. "Connecticut. She's living there..." he exhaustedly admitted.

"That's an entire state. You need to be a little more specific," Ethan flatly told the man. He placed the end of the hammer's handle down hard on Patrick's bleeding left finger, causing the man to wail out in pain.

"Manchester!" he quickly told them. After controlling his breathing again he went on to tell them the woman's address, which brought a satisfied smile to Ethan's face. "She just wants peace."

Pyroclast (Alistair)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

The doubt in Assad's eyes and his somewhat sceptical reaction made it hard for Syd to tell whether or not his advice had got through to him. Seeing him look so conflicted, Syd felt compelled to challenge the man's pessimism. Romantic feelings were difficult to navigate, and Syd himself struggled to see things from an optimistic perspective a lot of the time, but it was somehow easier to find alternative ways to view dilemmas when they belonged to somebody else. Perhaps thinking about something too deeply or worrying too much impaired one's ability to see things as they really were. All he did know, was that the deeper you dig yourself into a hole of despair, the harder it becomes to get out of without help. Since Assad's mind was clearly working through some heavy thoughts, Syd allowed him some time to ruminate before responding, "It's not ridiculous...It's just difficult." Unsure as to how much Assad had so far had to drink, Syd couldn't assume that the man's quandary wasn't founded on something real. From the look on his face, it appeared that his feelings for the arms dealer had been troubling him, perhaps deeply, for quite some time. Even though Syd maintained his lack of faith in dating while in the mob, he didn't like to see his friend look so torn. "Look," he went on, his speech now tainted with a soft slur. "It makes no difference to me whether you follow through with it or not, but the fact you're telling me now gives me the impression you want to. So stand up for what you want. Who knows...maybe you'll prove to me that dating in the mob works after all. I'd love to be wrong."

Soon the man's demeanour seemed to shift into one more relaxed, as though he had either managed to successfully bury his feelings or come to a more solid decision about how he would approach the situation. Despite the lack of certainty in his tone, Assad's words were enough to convince Syd that he would at least try to be receptive to his advice. To Syd, it didn't matter whether Farrid and Bailey ended up getting together or not. All that was important was that he felt happy and fulfilled and, of course, remained able to work. If he spent too much time worrying, he might lose himself over this woman and that could compromise his ability to perform his tasks.

A warm, enthusiastic smile spread across Syd's face that reached up to his eyes, and he gave his friend a brotherly slap of encouragement on the arm. "Yes! There's the brave man I know! Now let's get you another drink, yeah? We're missing all the..." Just as he was about to attempt the treacherous patio steps again, something caught his eye that caused him to trail off. His aunt Gwen, whom he hadn't yet seen at this party, was standing in the garden not too far away, her arms around James. Had Thomas not told him about Gwen falling asleep throughout today, Syd might not have read into it much, but given her circumstances he found himself wondering whether she was okay. While he wanted to lecture her about not looking after his brother properly, or her own daughter, he knew that the problems she was dealing with were ones far beyond him. Seeing her now, he felt compelled to say hello and perhaps help to integrate her into the party. After all, he hadn't even been sure whether she would make an appearance after what he had heard.

"Gwen!" he called out suddenly, across the dark grounds of the house. "Come in with us!" He beamed at her and waved her over, but then ran towards her anyway. Even in the twilight Syd could see how pale she looked, the traces of tears on her face glistening faintly in the soft light being cast onto the lawn. However, he could also see that she had put in a great deal of effort for this party, which is more than he had been expecting. "You look great," he smiled. It seemed to him that she was in need of a pick-me-up, and figured that that might come in the form of something dangerous if he didn't try to supply her with a distraction. "You know Assad, right?" Gesturing to the medic, Syd reverted back to the name most people knew him by. "We were just going in for more drinks - you should join us. It's much warmer in there, and I reckon pretty soon people will be drunk enough to dance." By that, he was mostly referring to himself; he sent her a wink before turning to his father with a small smile. "Enjoying yourself, dad? You coming in for drinks too? I know you got some dance moves in there, deep, deep down."

Interactions
Inb4Cloaker Farrid
Bellz Gwen
Misty Gray James

 

[Misty Gray]

Emery and Savannah Callahan​

Emery was sat by the record player enjoying the music as she sipped on the drink Peter had kindly order for her. That was, of course, until the music came to an abrupt stop just before the song had chance to finish on its own accord. She had been preparing to put Black Sabbath on next but she instead looked up to see her aunt standing in front of her with a raised eyebrow. "Are you for real?!" the teenager asked. "Wowww. And you used to be fun," she playfully remarked. When asked where she got the record from, the girl shrugged her shoulders. "I've infiltrated your record collection and I'm not at liberty to divulge my methods," she teased.

Once she was up on her feet, Emery received Lucy's instruction to bring Savannah over and the offer of another drink instantly caught the girl's interest. "That sounds like a good deal to me," she agreed. "I'll have some vodka. Just like the Russians," she requested. With no time wasted, she approached her sister and Veronica. "Evening Veronica," she said, sending the bodyguard a warm smile. She then looked to her sister before pointing back towards their aunt. "Lucy wants you. I'm going to wager it involves finding more bland records to play," she teased.

"You don't have enough pocket money to place any bets, Emmy," Savannah replied, but maintained a soft smile for her sister. The blonde then sent Veronica an apologetic look. "I'm sure I won't be long," she said, excusing herself. After walking across the room in her tall heels, Savannah reached Lucy and sent her a slightly nervous smile as she wondered what on Earth her aunt wanted to say to her. "Hey, Lucy. Is everything okay?"

Bellz (Lucy) lavendre (Veronica)

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad

​

“I’ll find a way to deal with it, somehow.”

Farrid was truthful in that phrase, at least. Eventually, the whole ordeal would be resolved depending on how the medic opted to proceed with the situation. Being able to release some of his bottled worries seemed to alleviate a small amount of the man’s stress, and his composure gradually started to return to him. Straightening his coat, Assad gave a confident nod to Syd and cracked a smile back at the sight of their own joy. Upon receiving the brotherly slap, he returned one of his own and let out a sigh of relief. Acceptance was always the first step, and while it was a small step by confiding in Syd, it was still a move in the right direction nonetheless. Now all he had to do was prevent himself from regressing back to where he started.

“You better be glad we don’t bet on proving each other wrong, cause I’d have you bankrupt before you even knew what happened.“ Farrid joked back at Syd, returning to his more cheerful mentality. With the talk of relationships over for the time being, Assad gave an enthusiastic nod towards his friend’s plan of action. A drink sounded perfect right about now, since a few beers didn’t seem to be affecting the Syrian driver beyond a very light buzz. However, his anticipation in waiting for the nightclub owner to finish his sentence showed, and his puzzled attitude reflected when he trailed off. Following his gaze, Farrid casted a surveying stare in the general direction of where his attention had drifted to. Now that the medic could barely make out two figures nearby, he could also barely hear their voices in the distance. Before Assad could act, the nightclub owner waved them over and rushed to meet them.

“Is that you’re aunt?” He asked, starting to follow after Syd, albeit at a much slower pace. Gwen was a name that he heard a few times prior, and the medic thought he had seen her face before. As Assad neared, he also saw his boss right around the edge of the tree. Farrid would assume from the mental picture he painted before him that the two were having their own private conversation, and the introduction of Syd and himself would most likely change the topic that they were originally discussing. Should the prior insurgent had noticed earlier, he may have informed the nightclub owner that they may want to wait for them inside rather than intrude immediately. His friend’s charismatic attitude may not have allowed that, however, and Farrid figured it mattered little now with him racing across the yard to meet them.

“Helloooo.” The medic called out from behind Syd upon hearing his name, still a short distance away. As he neared, Assad held up another peace sign before lazily retiring his hand back to his pocket. Wiping her hand on her dress, Gwen’s movement drew Farrid’s glance for a second too long. With his gaze lowering from her face and down towards the mark on her attire, the medic raised an eyebrow before flicking his attention to her idle arm. Blood was always distinct to him, and it was something he could recognize with a casual glance. Instinctively, Farrid wanted to reach for anything he had at his disposal to staunch the drip of dark red, and he did just that. Grasping the keffiyeh around his neck, the medic gently slipped it off his shoulders. Easily able to play his actions off as him just getting comfortable, Farrid started to fold the grey and black checkered fabric into a compact square with the intention of stowing it away. He had identified the source of bleeding as her hand, but he didn’t know what inflicted the injury.

What did cause the man a great deal of confusion was how both Porters alike did not notice, or were not inclined to assist. Farrid didn’t want to embarrass Gwen or make her uncomfortable, so he stood his ground alongside Syd. That fact, and the notion that the wound was not severe, convinced him to take a more subtle approach in offering aid. If she eventually made eye contact with the medic, he’d discreetly point his index at her hand while giving a quiet flick to the cloth he was starting to put into his coat pocket. If she didn’t notice, he’d just have to wait until later to offer assistance at risk of drawing too much attention.

“I think we’ve met before, nice to see you again.” Assad commented to the well dressed singer, displaying a welcoming smile before shifting his attention to his boss. “Is that true, sir? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you dance. You are going to go show everyone how it’s done, right?” He asked with a stifled laugh, the mention of James busting out some moves elicited interest from Farrid. Assad was self aware about his own hiatus from partying, so he knew he shouldn’t poke fun at the man, but he couldn’t help it. Despite not having practiced his own movements for a while, he was still confident in his abilities. Plus, Assad didn’t intend on dancing tonight if he could help it, so there was no reason to question his own skills.

وقت الرقص

Mentions: None.
Interactions: Syd Porter Pyroclast James Porter Misty Gray Gwen Bryant Bellz​

 

[Bellz]

Lucy Porter
​

Lucy rolled her eyes at her teenage niece and nodded her head, "Ah yes the Russians, very familiar with them thank you. One vodka coming your way, kid. Promise." With that, Lucy took the record out and placed it back into its slip cover before placing it back into the collection that was in a large cupboard near the player. When Savannah arrived, Lucy smiled sweetly towards her, "There you are sweetie! How are you? Are you enjoying the party?" She waited for the girl to answer before smiling even wider, "We, as in your Uncle James and I were wondering if you would sing for us tonight. We didn't hire a band for good reasons, as we have three beautiful song birds to turn to. I know your mother has been working hard and she's been having a hard time with Peter...so I thought it would be best to leave her be and Gwen," The woman paused, although she hadn't seen her around the party much, she was sure the woman wasn't doing as well as she had previously thought.

"She's not doing well, not in a headspace to sing." Biting her lip, Lucy looked towards the party noting all the talking going on but there was people who were starting to look bored. "I figured with a little live music and enough alcohol to go around, we can get your Uncle James and all those stiff business men to dance." Her words were only teasing of course but it was convincing enough she was sure. "If you can I can set you up in the main area."

Nodding her head for her niece to follow her, she headed down the hall towards the main area and pointed to where she would set up all the stuff. "If you are willing to do this we will place you here. Front and center. And of course, who doesn't want to see your beautiful face? You're a Sullivan after all!"

With the teasing aside, Lucy turned serious after a second. "So, will you help your Auntie out?"
with: Emery +Savannah Misty Gray

Gwen Bryant
​

Gwen nodded her head into her brother's shoulder as he promised to help her get off the shit she was on. His warning was clear, he wasn't going to stop and she believed him. Her brother made promises to keep and it was very rare that he didn't follow through with something. Saying nothing to that, they broke away from the embrace and James spoke about clinging onto what was left of his conscience and even though he was just downplaying her words, she felt them on a level he would never know. Her own conscience had been tainted over the years of using, years of not leaving her husband in time, years of wondering if what she did was right...or too extreme.

Her thoughts were interrupted by James' dry remarks, causing the woman to snort lightly. "Oh god here we go." She said back. His teasing caused her to smile widely despite her tears, he never failed to cheer her up with his sarcasm. Feeling thankful for James in that moment, she thought back to Eli and their father. Years ago, she had wished for things to have turned out differently, so that she could have some sort of relationship with them both. But she had to learn to love what she had in front of her and over the last 10 years, she had grown very close to Old Man James, at least while she was living under his roof. "What do I even get a 50 year old man? Heart medication?" She teased back before she heard someone familiar call out her name.

Turning to see Syd and someone she vaguely remembered having met before, the woman quickly used her clean hand to wipe at her eyes. He waved her over but then ran towards her, causing the woman to raise an eyebrow and look to James. Someone was drinking for sure, she thought. It was all in good fun of course, so Gwen smiled softly at Syd as he finally made it to them. Complimenting on her appearance, Gwen tilted her head at the sentiment, knowing she most likely looked horrible. "Thank you Sydie." She said, calling him by her little nickname she gave him. They were only 5 years apart, but Gwen liked to pull rank often, just for kicks. Farrid made it to them after saying hello from a distance and Gwen nodded her head to Syd's question, "I do believe we have met, " The man said hello to her again and bowed her head towards the medic, "You as well."

The redhead seemed to have missed Syd's words about James' dancing, so when Farrid brought it up again, Gwen couldn't contain the giggle bubbling from her chest. "Oh please, my brother having moves? That certainly doesn't sound like him. He's got one, its called the antisocial statue" Gwen lightly reached out to punch her brother's arm teasingly. "I bet we could get him drunk enough." Gwen's mood was getting better by the second. The pain she had been feeling was fading away with the constant distractions before her. The only thing she could feel was the light sting of her bleeding hand, which she looked down to for a moment self consciously...

After a moment, she looked at Syd and then Farrid. Noting the eye contact, the woman saw him pointing to her hand. Cheeks turning hot and pink, she felt embarrassed to have been found out about her self inflicted wound. Nodding her head slowly, she appreciated the offer to get something to stop the bleeding. Especially since she just ruined her pretty dress with it. Clearing her throat, Gwen looked to the men, "We should get inside then yes?" The short burned cigarette in her hand, flicking to the floor before being put out with her heel.
with: James Misty Gray ; Syd Pyroclast ; Farrid Inb4Cloaker

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

While it would have brought Syd a great deal of joy to witness his father get on the dance floor, he knew it would take more than just a few drinks - a miracle, perhaps - so of course his suggestion had only been a joke. Nevertheless, he still enjoyed hearing Farrid join in pressuring him, and let out a loud laugh at Gwen's teasing remark. He glanced at his father, but had to immediately look away, unable to stop laughing. "Fuck's sake, Gwen, I'm not gonna be able to look at him for the rest of the night now!" For whatever reason, her joke had tickled him senseless and he had to step back and turn to face the direction of the breeze so that the cool air could calm him down. It took him a moment - he knew he was being silly, but he just couldn't help it. When Gwen suggested they go inside, Syd took a deep breath and turned back to join them. "Excellent idea, why didn't I think of that!"

So concerned with making sure Gwen would have a good time at the party, Syd wanted to share his good mood with her and so he grabbed her hand, ready to run her back towards the house. However, having missed Farrid's allusion to her injury, the blood came as a surprise to him and he gasped lightly, tearing his hand away. "Oh - I'm sorry! What's -" When at first he had spotted her just a few minutes ago, Syd had only been thinking of her mood, the tears on her face, her pallor, the redness about her eyes. It was always the drug abuse that came to his mind first, but this time it had blinded him of the smaller details, such as the punctured skin on her hand. The alcohol had somewhat affected his ability to be subtle; he turned her hand over to see where the blood had come from and then lifted his head, sending her an apologetic look. Then, narrowing his eyes in determination, he gave a firm nod and said, "Drinks." Despite his physical exhaustion, Syd was at least in quite an excitable mood; as enthusiastic as he was to get back to the party, it took some self-restraint not to rush his aunt indoors. With some hesitation, he very gently placed a hand on her back and, beaming at her once more, began to walk more carefully towards the house.

The lack of music confused and disappointed him and for a moment Syd wondered if something might have gone wrong. Nobody appeared to be in any distress, however. He found himself scanning the room in search of his mother, assuming that she would be able to explain what was going on. Then it dawned on him that perhaps the live music was about to begin, and his face broke into a smile again. He lead Farrid and Gwen to the bar, but kept a watchful eye on the room around them, waiting in anticipation for something to happen.

Interactions
Bellz Gwen
Misty Gray James
Inb4Cloaker Assad
@ anyone else around

 

[Misty Gray]

Savannah Callahan​

"The party is alright, even if nobody has embarrassed themselves yet," Savannah joked with her aunt. She observed the fellow blonde suspiciously as the woman's smile grew larger. Soon enough, this was followed with a request for her to sing at the party. She looked over her shoulder to see Sinead seemed to be having an overdue happy exchange with Peter, so she wouldn't dream of interrupting her mother. She also wasn't sure where Gwen was in that moment and already had some idea the woman was going through a rough patch. She awkwardly bit her lip as she considered the request. It wasn't that she didn't want to do something for her Uncle James, but there was something more nerve-wracking about singing in front of her family than there was when performing to hundreds of strangers.

Savannah blushed as Lucy continued to talk her into it and pointed out how bored the guests looked. "Well, I suppose this party does need some live music..." she agreed. "Okay, I'll do it. But only if I can crash in one of the spare bedrooms tonight. And you have to help me with my modelling portfolio soon!" she bargained. She blushed deeper when Lucy said she had a beautiful face. Despite the photo shoots, the theatre roles, and a few diva moments, Savannah still retained a sense of modesty and shyness when being complimented. "I'll need to use the piano, Lucy. I don't think I can get everyone on the dance floor with my voice alone," she told her.

Spoiler: Savvy's Starting Playlist

Once the piano and microphone were set up, Savannah sat down on the piano stool. Other than the conversations, the room had been relatively quiet for a party. To ease herself and everyone else in, Savannah first started with a piano instrumental, her eyes briefly seeking out Emery before starting to playing a version of 'Paint it Black'. Whilst her own creative focus was on classical and jazz music, it didn't mean she wasn't a fan of some of the bands her little sister listened to. When the piece was finished, Savannah then began playing and singing some songs she hoped would get people dancing, or at least give them something to sing along to...


Bellz Pyroclast Inb4Cloaker ...Anyone at the party, yo!

 

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan
​

Peter was relieved when Sinead said that she forgave him. He really didn't deserve her and he knew it, but if he was to continue to have her, he needed to treat her with respect. "I love you too." He murmured to his wife before she graced him with a soft and quick kiss. Ali was still in their presence and they both didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable. Peter laughed as Sinead expressed her shock at James not retiring to bed. It was all in good fun, knowing that James could run circles around anyone in the room if he had to. When she said that she would look after the kids, Peter smiled softly before taking another sip of his drink. "Well thanks love, I'll try not to get too plastered, don't need yourself another big kid to take care of."

Peter sighed at Sinead's words about Scott being a good person. As much as he wanted to believe her, he just didn't trust the man. It had been done in the past, where Sinead pulled into danger due to her connection to the club...Peter didn't trust anyone after that. "Well he better have hots for someone else, otherwise we are gonna have a good long talk about where he should stick his head." Peter grumbled, taking in his wife's serious face, he nodded his head lightly before smiling again.

Before he could say anything more, the piano started up causing him to turn his head towards the front to see Savannah playing. Heart swelling with pride as she started to sing, the man watched his daughter for a few long moments before his eyes looked down to Sinead. Polishing off the drink, his eyes never leaving hers, he set it on an empty waiters tray passing by before offering her his hand.

"Will you do me the honor of joining me in a dance?" He asked charmingly, bowing down to give his wife's hand a kiss, showing that the cliché was alive and well.
with: Sinead Misty Gray ; Ali Melanin-Gxdess