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

[lavendre]

Just moments after Veronica had taken her final shot, she felt a draft of air pass by her quickly. She turned around, in her slightly oblivious haze, to see Savannah's friend, Roxie, going to meet one of the Porter sons. She knew who the young man was, of course. Veronica had certainly driven him several times upon instruction, but those times were few and far between. Besides, after so many times of referring to him as "Mr. Porter", she barely remembered his actual name.

It started with an S, but that's all she knew.

Not too long afterward - 10 minutes or so - Veronica's sense began to dull just a bit, and she began to feel tipsy and she was overcome with a sense of slight fatigue. She already knew this was an unfortunate effect of all the alcohol she had just consumed. She made an effort to stay awake, to fight it, hoping that she wouldn't be too distracted to respond to a bad situation. Thankfully, such intoxication didn't have to heavy of an effect on her in the past, and she was confident that in the face of danger, she would react swiftly. She was high-functioning and it barely affected her persona or abilities - at least, that's how she thought of herself.

It soon became clear that this thought was, at least, a bit of a stretch.

In a split second, Veronica realized something - she was just standing there in deep, intoxicated contemplation. And the funny thing was. . . she wasn't even thinking about anything. Or at least Veronica could no longer remember what she was pondering about. She was so far gone that she did not realize when Savannah had returned, and the young girl quietly apologized while remarking that she wasn't obligated to drink. The girl had probably been around for a good five minutes, and rather than adding to the apologies with a remark about how she was just staring into space 10 seconds ago, she nodded quietly.

She smiled at her words regarding her work and let out a small, hushed chuckle at the young lady's mention of the men at the party. It was rather cute that Savannah had regarded her feelings and even mentioned guys. The Brazilian woman turned her gaze to the party and her smile grew wider, as if Savannah was a naive and adorable little girl. As far as she knew, in her line of work, Veronica barely had time for men. Not only would they be at risk due to her involvement within the mob, but she also didn't have much time in general. The Porters were certainly gracious to her, providing her with good money and welcoming her, but she worked practically seven days a week. She didn't have a problem with it, but because of it, she had to cut off communication with her own parents. It was a decision that brought her anguish and her grin was faltering, but at this time, she need not think about such a thing.

"I'm not really the flirty type. And besides, men are too much work, and I have enough to deal with already," she crossed her arms comically and emitted another chuckle, this one being louder than the last. She suddenly turned to Savannah, who had been right next to her the entire time, and smiled. "If you would like to stay here and continue to drink, then, by all means, I will accompany you. You do not have to stop doing anything just to appease me, senhorita."

In quick realization, she noticed how Savannah looked towards her Roxie with an expression of slight confusion, likely due to being abandoned, in a sense, by her friend. Veronica looked in the direction of the well-dressed brunette, who was confident as she had made her way to Savannah's cousin, while Savannah was essentially "left behind". She felt a tinge of empathy for the girl, one that she would rarely act upon, except in times of grief or utter despair (or, clearly, when she was in the process of becoming intoxicated). Bodyguards typically didn't do much talking, nor did chauffeurs, who were regularly trained to only speak when spoken to. But with the strong influence of alcohol in her system caused her to feel more and more sociable by the minute. She began to frown at the girl, who was nearly as tall as her, but she did so in the manner of a sympathetic mother to a young child.

"O, mi moça, is something wrong? You seem a little . . ."

Her voice showed some sense of worry, but she didn't really know what to say next, and simply tilted her head again. Though she was probably more in-tune to others' emotions when she was under the influence, it was still hard for her to find the right words. Struggling not to slur or blabber in Portuguese was even harder, as she felt compelled to do so. She just stood there for a few moments, gazing intently at the girl, leaning against the bar counter. Then she turned her gaze to the rest of the party for the second time, and back to Savannah again, giving her more space as she moved a bit out of the way.

veronica carvalho

chaffeur + bodyguard affiliated with the porters

outfit: x x x
mentioning: Syd ( Pyroclast ); Savannah ( Misty Gray ); Roxie ( Bellz )
interacting w/: Savannah ( Misty Gray )
feeling: tipsy / mellow / concerned

 

[Bellz]

Roxanne Carriveau
​

Roxie watched Syd as he stared at her hand a moment and her brow raised in question, wondering if she should pull it back. A beautiful and warm smile graced her face as Syd spoke up finally, saying that she shouldn't hate her name. "Oh? And why not?" She questioned him further, and to her surprise he actually answered without clamming up. His words had clearly taken her by surprise, as her cheeks grew the slightest bit warm to the touch. But how would he even know if he wasn't even looking at her. Because of this behavior, Roxie was beginning to feel less confident in her decision to speak with Syd. Roxie lifted her full glass of wine to lips and took a long sip as Syd turned his attention to the bartender. When he finally did look at her, the man asked if he could get her a drink to which the brunette smile softly, "I could always use another drink." She said after he corrected himself. With her glass settled back on the bar, Roxie quickly picked it up and raised it to Syd in return, saying"cento di questi giorni" before placing the glass to her lips. What Roxie was already beginning to notice about this particular party was the diversity of the people around them. It was nice to see in all honesty, with the struggle the US had in the 60s with civil rights and equality, it was only right to see a party like this.

Syd interrupted her train of thought by finally introducing himself, also saying that they were not all mob bosses, just his father. This captured Roxie's attention quickly. Savannah had said something about this man being her cousin...So he was a Porter then? Her questioning seem to have regressed Syd back to his shy self and Roxie was immediately aware that she was making him uncomfortable. Biting her bottom lip gently, she nodded her head slowly as Syd asked about her living with Savannah, earning a soft chime like laugh from her when he asked further if she was a nightmare to live with.

"Savvy? Oh god no. If anything, I'm the nightmare." She said as she shook her head. Turning it slowly, she looked back to Savannah for a moment. Feeling a twinge of guilt for ditching her, she promised she would make it up to her by the end of the night. "I like to classify myself as an organized mess, which I think many people don't understand the lifestyle. They may look like piles, but they are strategically placed there I will have you know." Roxie knew she wouldn't get away with her bullshit in Savannah's eyes, but that's just how Roxie was.

"I hope I'm not sticking out like a sore thumb." She worried for a moment, her eyes locking with Syd's for a moment, wondering if he would confirm that she indeed stick out as such. It was rare that she was this...apprehensive about who she was flirting with. The man before her seemed to both want nothing to do with her and was interested in her all at the same time. She wasn't sure if she was comfortable with the way he was making her feel, so she shifted from foot to foot in attempt to get grounded.

Positioning herself in a more comfortable lean against the bar, the brunette seemed to size up Syd before her. "I guess I'm trying to do the same with you. Your fathers the big bad boss then? That must be interesting growing up? Did you ever think that was something your father would end up doing?"
with: Syd Pyroclast

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

The soft laughter that came from Roxie when Syd asked her about Savannah was so sweet it almost made him smile, but he managed to repress it. The longer he sat with her, the more attractive she seemed to become: her smile, her laughter, her voice, the way she leaned over the bar. Despite the fact that she seemed interested in talking to him, Syd didn't feel at all comfortable next to her, letting his attraction to her strengthen. Those kinds of feelings were hard for him to accept and he was always afraid of what might happen if he followed through with them, so he tried his hardest not to.

This was a party, however, and it was likely that Syd would run into this woman again in the future being that she was his cousin's close friend and roommate. So, he would have to do his best to entertain her. When she began to describe herself as an organised mess, Syd raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his wine. "Trust me, I know." Never having been the tidy type, his habits had only worsened since he started living alone because nobody else was there to complain about it. He had hired help to keep on top of the general maintenance of the house, but he didn't like them moving his things because it would just become easier to lose track of where everything was.

Her words struck him and he turned his head to meet her eyes once again. It was the first time her confidence had appeared to waver and he felt slightly guilty all of a sudden. Perhaps he was being too rude to her? His gaze softened slightly as he looked into her eyes, but then it fell away again. She did stick out - but not like a sore thumb. Like a dove among pigeons, a solitary star in the clouded night sky, the first flower in the meadow to bloom. Of course he couldn't tell her that, so he merely shook his head and said flatly, "You're not." He wished he had never noticed her, but how could he not have? Of course, he had recognised beauty in women before, but it was so rare that he found himself spellbound like this. And as for the uncharacteristic behaviour, he hadn't been this shy around a woman since...Well, since Skye. But they were kids then. He had only been 18 - now he was 30 and it seemed nothing had changed.

Syd could feel her eyes on him as she positioned herself against the bar and he took a deep breath, only looking to her when she spoke. Again, he was left speechless when she asked him about what it was like to grow up as the son of a mob boss. It seemed like an oddly personal question, and for a moment he felt reluctant to speak at all, unsure as to whether he could trust her. The way she phrased it reminded him of the kind of questions his counsellors might ask, as though she might be trying to psychoanalyse him - though of course, he would never discuss business with anyone outside of the mob. He knew trust was of paramount importance in this line of work and had had it drilled into him to keep such matters strictly confidential. Who was she, then, asking him about it?

Jeez, loosen up - she's just a friend of Savannah's, making conversation. She's not trying to psychoanalyse you.

After taking another long swig, Syd set his glass down, cleared his throat and looked Roxie in the eye. He was getting better at doing that, at least. "He was in the business long before I came along. 'Course they didn't talk to me about it when I was a kid, but I've never really known him as anything else. Well, except that he's much more than just a mob boss. He's a good man, my dad. A good father." After a brief pause, he added, "I hope you're not expecting stories, Roxie, 'cause I'm afraid there aren't many I can share. It was interesting, though, I'll give you that. Still is." Once again, he brought his glass of wine to his lips - he was getting through it fast, but it was helping to take the edge off as he chatted to the woman before him. By now he was already beginning to feel the onset of drowsiness come over him, too, as the alcohol began to react to his medication.

"What is it you do, then, Roxie? Since we're onto asking those kinds of questions." Draining the last of his wine, Syd leaned over to catch the bartender's eye again. "And you're Italian, is that right?" The words she had spoken when they had first raised their glasses hadn't gone amiss, though not speaking a word of Italian himself he could only guess that she had said something along the lines of "cheers". He ordered two more glasses of wine and passed one to her before rubbing lightly at his tired eyes. "How do you say that thing you said before? Ciento...something?"

Bellz Roxie


Alistair Sawyer

Rachmaninoff's piano concerto no. 3 played faintly through the speaker as Alistair took some time to relax. The room in which he sat was one of the underground connecting rooms, its windowless interior dark but for the few wall sconces that allowed just enough light to read a newspaper. It was a small one, probably the smallest of all the connecting rooms in the old-fashioned, converted office block, with only a desk, a couple of chairs and a cabinet with very little in it. Altogether it was barely a room at all. But there was a reason that the two men were there. Reclining in a green leather armchair with his eyes closed, Alistair enjoyed having time to listen to one of his favourite pieces of music. That wasn't all he was listening to, however. In fact, the second he heard what he was really listening out for, his eyes snapped open and he looked over to Ethan.

"Do you hear that, Turner?" After stopping the music, he got to his feet and straightened his tie, quickly glancing at his reflection in the glass of an old framed photograph mounted on the wall. "I think it's time we get back to work. Don't you?" The sound he had heard was only very slight, but he was confident it was sign enough. Pushing the door open further, the whimpering grew more audible, and Alistair wandered behind the weakened man, taking slow steps for dramatic effect.

"Well, you're awake, then," he spoke softly, not needing to raise his voice. "That's good news. Though I must say, you have wasted a great deal of our time, falling unconscious for as long as you did." Keeping his hands behind his back, he walked around the chair until he came face to face with the man. Blood had rained down his bare chest, oozing from the neat, vertical lacerations that tore his flesh from his collarbones down to his hips. This modest armchair had claimed many a victim in the past. Simple, yet so very effective. The man's arms, legs and ankles were bound to its solid wooden structure, his hands kept firmly in place by tight metal clamps - one of Alistair's favourite tools. The man's face had also been sliced in many places, the knife's edge appearing to have followed the curvature of his bones. "How artistic," he quietly admired, tilting his head to one side. "Especially with the additional bruising, there. Adds some real colour. Very nice, very nice..."

After the man had passed out, Alistair and Ethan had bound his fingers tightly to the chair's arm so that they lay flat against the wood. Restriction of movement was essential for their next means of torture; they had a hammer and ten metal skewers at the ready, though of course they had been kept out of sight for now. Just to be fair with him, Alistair decided to give him another chance. Giving a small, impatient sigh, he bent down to be at eye-level with the man and leaned in close. "Are you ready now?" he murmured, his voice deep and calm. "Are you going to tell us where to find her?"

Misty Gray

 

[shadowz1995]

Once the mafia boss finished his discreet order, Dante tilted his head in a very canine-like fashion and regarded his employer for a moment. One could take it as confusion. Like if he didn't understand the message James was trying to convey. The glint in his eyes told a different story though.

He was planning. Hundreds of tried and tested methods of assassination ran through his mind and his grin only seemed to get warmer and more friendly.

Eventually, Coreno straightened himself out and nodded his head, "No need to worry, Sir. The rat problem will be taken care of. Discreetly, I assure you. No one will be the wiser. As you have come to expect from me, of course."

The Hitman's gaze flicked over towards the party and in the direction of James's immediately family members. His gaze scanned the people in their vicinity for any suspicion of ill intent and other than a few lustful glances, everything was relatively harmless.

"That being said, you should probably adhere to the orders the Missus gave you. I can protect you from many things, Sir. But the wrath of a disgruntled wife is out of my expertise."

Misty Gray

 

[RayPurchase]

Mitchell Van Gerwen
Porter Residence

​

Mitch takes a long swig of beer and watches as the lady in blue begins chatting to Syd. He looks towards Farrid with a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“I reckon we'll save the beer and the effort for now, don’t want to risk spilling beer on the boss's son, chances are when the old man retires he'll end up being our boss,”

He chuckles at the thought of Farrid chucking him through the veranda, I mean that would definitely kick the party up a notch. Would also probably raise a fair few eyebrows and questions though. He waves away the talk of intimidation though,, with a sweep of a well manicured hand.

“Ah sticks and stones and all that. Vocabulary and verbal threats are my arsenal, I may bruise easily but when it comes to that sort of stuff I’ve got a very thick skin. It’s just bluff and bluster, trust me, any more than that and I’m running for assistance and help, all that other stuff is just a lot of bark and no bite if you get my meaning,”

He's mid drink of the final dregs of his beer as Farrid asks and answers his own question. He chooses this moment to shut his normally very active mouth, simply nodding sagely and listening intently. Hell, this guy had clearly been through a lot and seen a lot of stuff. Mitch was under no illusion that he was pretty sheltered. Grown up with a silver spoon hanging out of his mouth, educated at an Ivy League college, and walked straight into a well paid job. He was born white collar and had maintained that for a while. The perk of that was keeping his hands relatively clean, both metaphorically and literally, he was never out there on the front line, patching people up, putting people down, he’d never had the stomach for that kind of mess, and thankfully to date never really encountered it. He decided not to press further as Farrid ends one jovial note about his father, better not to press much further , give the guy a day off and keep the beer's flowing. He grins and slides his empty bottle behind him in the barman’s direction.

“An absolute pleasure Farrid. No sense in sticking to formalities, looks like everyone else had started doing away with them tonight. And I’d definitely recommend staying away from him, boring old fart who could bite the hind legs off of a mule. Lord knows where I got my care free fun loving attitude from... well compared to him anyway.”

He glances about the room, he'd already spotted Bailey, who was now deep in conversation with Lucy, but other than that it was a mishmash of half familiar faces and total strangers. A sea of family, friends, work colleagues and hangers on.

(Interaction: Inb4Cloaker Farrid)

 

[Misty Gray]

Sinead Callahan​

Sinead shrugged her shoulders when Aliana said she could take Leo off of her hands whenever she wanted. She knew she was busy with her club and performing, but when she was at home there was something missing. Part of it was the lack of sound of young children causing mayhem around the house and the other part was the lack of close time spent with Peter. She'd always thought the benefit to the children growing up and getting out of the house would be that she could spend plenty of alone time with her husband. Now she wasn't sure even that would happen. "I thought I'd appreciate the peace and quiet now the kids are grown up, but I just find myself wishing there was another little one around the house."

Sinead listened as Aliana tried to reassure her that everything was going okay, but the redhead still couldn't help but show a concerned expression. "If you need any help with the restaurant, I'm sure I can muck in. I love dealing with customers and if I don't wear my heels, you can rest assured I want trip and spill food over someone's lap," she said. She was referring to her own clumsiness when wearing high heels, but in her defence that only happened when alcohol was involved. "I'd offer to help with Conor's pub, but I'll end up giving it a sparkly makeover and scaring off his rugged regulars," she remarked. "Plus, that little old man, Larry, touched my butt the last time I was in there and I don't believe it was an accident. He only gets away with that behaviour because he looks ancient." Realising she was rambling on, she pulled the conversation back. "So, I can help at the restaurant when I'm not busy with the club. Plus, my next singing gig isn't for a couple more weeks."

"I miss Conor so much. I seriously doubt Finn or Ryan will come see us any time soon. And with Peter acting the way he is... Just promise you won't leave too!" she lightly told her friend, letting out a thoughtful sigh. The redhead then folded her arms tightly as she considered Conor's habits. "If my brother thinks he's going to mess up my house, I will slap him silly. He may be way bigger than me, but I can make it hurt," she firmly assured her friend. "Maybe I can knock some sense into him on your behalf too?"

Melanin-Gxdess (Aliana)

 

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan
​

Peter watched as Emery took a drink from the glass, not even wincing a little bit as she swallowed it. Raising his brows lightly, Peter couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips as his daughter feigned a cough. "Now now now, kid. Don't go bullshitting me. I'm not an old man like your Uncle James." Rolling his eyes as she made her remark and winked, he laughed. "Yea a nice kick in the ass." He said in return. Noticing that his daughter was looking somewhere else, he turned to look in the same direction...his eyes seeing Sinead immediately, he turned away. Grabbing the glass of scotch, he lifted it to his lips and took a harsh swig before Emery spoke up, giving him the business.

Biting his lip lightly, the man listened patiently as Emery spoke, questioning why Sinead and him were always fighting. Peter immediately felt guilty in that instant. He knew that the arguing between them was affecting their youngest greatly. It was easier for Savvy and Braden, they were older...but Emery was going through a confusing stage of life. 17 was a hard age, especially when you didn't have someone your own age in the family to confine in.

When she finished, Peter cleared his throat and sighed, setting his now empty glass down in front of him. Not wanting another drink at the moment, he turned to Emery and offered her a small smile, "You know, you were so damn cute as a kid too. That mouth of yours could get away with anything, especially when you scrunch up that little button nose." Reaching out, he touched his daughters nose gently before his smile faded. His eyes found Sinead and stared at her a moment, "Your mother and I...we are...I am...complicated." He murmured to her, hoping he could explain himself adequately.

"But this is just another bump in the road, Emmy. I know what I'm doing is wrong , that I'm hurting this family." Swallowing hard, Peter looked down at the bar. "We are just too stubborn for our own good. And look at the three beautiful children we created...just as stubborn." The time he had spent in prison had changed him for the worse. The second time he arrived, it had been the same horrible experience as the first...perhaps even worse. He was at the bottom of the pecking order, someone who could always be used as a punching bag. And no matter how big and strong, how intimidating he looked...the man was just too sensitive, too self aware of his actions to do any real harm.

"I'm going to get some help."
with: Emery Misty Gray
mentions: Sinead

 

[Bellz]

Roxanne Carriveau
​

The brunette was concerned that there was something wrong with her...because she was getting so many signals, that Syd clearly didn't want to speak with her. Normally she didn't have that kind of affect on men, with almost everyone she tried to be kind and charming, but the charm she placed on seemed to not affect this man at all and to be honest, it only intrigued her more. Her thoughts were once again interrupted when Syd went on to answer her question, and she listened with great interest, nodding her head along softly as she learned something personal about Mr. Porter. But suddenly, he paused and then added that he couldn't tell her stories. This of course confused her, but she wasn't familiar with the life of a mob family. "Well at least things are kept interesting for you." She murmured lightly, it was clear that the conversation was taking a slightly awkward turn and she fell silent as her eyes looked down at the counter.

Her eyes noticed Syd's hands and immediately a silver wedding band stuck out to her. Quickly to draw attention away from the surprise on her face, Roxie lifted her glass to her lips and drank the last of her wine, taking that moment to gather her thoughts. Well, she was definitely hitting on someone else's man. And to her, that was a new low. How come Savvy didn't say anything? I didn't really give her the chance to. She reminded herself and the woman wanted to bang her head against the bar repeatedly for acting so impulsively.

It always got her in trouble as a kid, especially in her teen years. It wasn't all bad, sometimes it landed her in the right places...but this was not one of them. Roxie respected other women, respected what was theirs. She wouldn't be upholding her integrity as a feminist if she went and moved in on someone else's man. Syd spoke up again, now asking her a prying question that was now being shoved back in her face so abruptly. How could he make her feel so small so quickly? Roxie felt like a bug just waiting to be squashed and put out of her misery.

Clearing her throat, the woman nodded her head as he went on to clarify that she was Italian, "Got the reddest of wine running through my veins." She said, her tone trying to sound more upbeat than it was. "And...I work for my family as a Charity Event Organizer. They are a pretty big production company and well known for what they give back to the community. I am just a small cog in it but I'm honored to have such a position. " When the glass of wine was passed to her, Roxie gave Syd a smile before letting out a small laugh as he tried to pronounce what she had said earlier, cento di questi giorni" She repeated, It means, One hundred of these days."
with: Syd Pyroclast

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Syd tapped his fingers lightly against his glass but didn't rush to drink it this time, instead looking up to Roxie through narrowed eyes. His own behaviour perplexed him, but even though part of him wanted to impress her, charm her, make her warm to him, it was overridden by the part of him that was afraid to attract the attention of women. His anxiety manifested as hostility and a mean side of him showed, a side that he usually only reserved for people he was required by the job to intimidate. It had gone so far as to almost impact upon his mood, which upon arriving at the party had been nothing but happy and bright. Now, he could only do his best to control himself from offending the woman further - but he wasn't confident that he had such control.

"Keeping things as vague as me, I guess that's only fair," he muttered, his tone purposefully void of interest. If he were being honest with himself, her occupation and family life did sound interesting to him - fascinating, even. Had he not been partly trying to put her off him, he would have asked her a hundred questions. "We both work for our families, isn't that nice? Something in common. And I guess, by extension, we probably share some of the same values, you know, like, um...loyalty, and trust." Syd twisted around on his stool so that he could rest his back against the bar, and watched the other guests mingle and circulate the room. "So you'll understand then, that if you go around asking people at this party what it's like to be a part of the mob, you'll only find out who the idiots are. And you don't want idiots for friends, do you? As a Charity Event Organiser, I imagine your level of intelligence is way above that."

Something wasn't sitting right with him at all - alcohol often soured his mood, but never at a fun social event such as this, and he was only on his third glass. But he didn't know what else to blame his behaviour on. Here was this gorgeous woman, gracing him with her sweet laughter and apparent interest in him, and he was sabotaging all chances of making a good first impression on her. By nature, Syd was a very social man; he loved meeting people and making new friends, and even though he knew deep down that he was simply afraid of his attraction to her, it still disturbed him to find himself treating a guest this way. His initial shyness upon being approached by her, his feeling intimidated by a woman he didn't know, it had made him feel embarrassed and ashamed and, as a consequence, he had grown defensive. Despite her bright tone of voice, it was clear that he was making her feel uncomfortable.

Turning back around in his seat, he sent Roxie a forced smile, one that lacked any warmth at all, and picked up his new glass of wine. He swirled it carefully in his hand as he listened to Roxie explain the Italian phrase to him, watching the many legs run down the edges of the glass. "Cento di...questi gio-rni," he attempted, chuckling to himself at his poor pronunciation. "Kind of a weird thing to say. But hey, it sounds nice. At least, it does when you say it." Syd looked at her and raised his glass. "A hundred of these days to you." Although he feared what he might say next if he drank any more, he took a long swig from his glass anyway, believing that there was still some edge in him that needed taking off. Then, with a deep sigh, he got to his feet, wine glass still in hand. Having been seated too long, Syd hadn't realised quite how tipsy nor drowsy he had become and he swayed instantly, having to reach out to the counter to support himself. "Enjoy the party," he mumbled stiffly, flashing Roxie another fake smile before turning his back on her and moving off into the crowd.

Before anyone could intercept him, Syd had made it to the back of the house. He wandered through the back door and sat down on the steps that lead out onto the lawn. The fresh air that filled his lungs felt good, but not as good as the comforting cigarette that he swiftly placed between his lips and lit up. At least the air would stop him from succumbing to the drowsiness that threatened to fall upon him. Arrow padded silently across the grass, her thick, black coat hardly visible in the dark. It wasn't until she was sitting at his feet that Syd noticed her, but by this point he was too intoxicated to be startled. Glad to be of her company, he weaved his fingers through her fur and took a few drags of his cigarette. "Roxanne," he muttered to himself. "Roxie..." Yes, her name certainly had an effect on him already. Suddenly he found himself smiling into the darkness, and immediately forced himself to stop. Don't even go there, an internal voice told him.

Interactions
Bellz Roxie

~ OPEN FOR INTERACTION ~​

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad

​

Assad was still sliding his bottle back and forth between his hands, soaking in the party environment as he shared a drink with the lawyer. Overall, the man seemed like a well rounded individual, and the medic was glad he finally got a chance to get to know him a bit. When Mitchell mentioned the boss’s son, Farrid twisted around curiously and peered over his shoulder. In an instant, Assad recognized Syd Porter sitting a short distance away. Cracking a smile, he rolled his eyes before looking back over to Mitchell.

“Yeah, that’s probably a solid idea. I’d rather not wrap bloody knuckles again so soon.” The prior insurgent recalled the fond memories he had stored from the multitude of times Syd had been patched up after receiving various injuries. The most common ones involved scrapes, small cuts, and bruises; wounds that were bound to spring up during brawls. Ever since Farrid was given permission to establish a medical facility, at the expense of the club owner providing a small section of his home, the medic has always committed extra effort to making sure the man was doing well. Initially, Farrid didn’t pay much attention to him and the woman he was interacting with, but a few more invasive glances over his shoulder quickly gave him the vibe that not all was well.

Discreetly nudging the lawyer with his elbow, the insurgent indicated the pair who were engaged in conversation a short distance away. Farrid had no doubt that Mitchell had already noticed something amiss, but he wanted to draw his attention to the two discreetly. Silently and subtly observing the exchange, the prior insurgent felt a twinge or guilt as he somewhat intruded on Syd by paying attention as closely as he was. However, his observation was not performed pointlessly. Assad was aware of how alcohol affected the nightclub owner, with barely over a years worth of time working with him. He never saw him swoon any ladies, however, so this was a new scene for Farrid.

“Eh, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.” Trying to wave off his worries, the Syrian fellow turned to Mitchell and procured a smug grin as he spoke. In the very instant that he took his eyes off of Syd, the young Porter had begun to briskly part ways with the woman. Turning expectantly, Assad was confronted by the sight of the nightclub owner vanishing into the crowd and leaving a visibly uncomfortable woman in his wake. Emitting a forced chuckle, Farrid’s confidence in Syd’s lady skills vanished as quick as his smile did. Giving a reluctant double take towards the lawyer, he anxiously cleared his throat as his eyes trailed Syd out the back door.

“Ok, so, I lied.” He said with a thoughtful wince, indicating the woman who he left. “Maybe you can see how she’s doing, be the man who brightens her mood? I’m gonna go check up on Syd real quick, excuse me Mitchell.” The medic didn’t want to budge from his comfortable position or pleasant talk, but what he witnessed was enough motivation to force him to act. Giving a respectful nod towards Mitchell, Assad stood straight and navigated past the patrons, careful not to bump into any of the party goers. Unfortunately, being nimble was not one of the traits bestowed upon the medic, so he inevitably kicked a few stools and nudged one or two people while passing through. Offering an apologetic wave of his hand to those he disturbed, Farrid soon found himself standing before the door Syd exited moments before. Giving it a light push, he was careful to not make excessive noise as he spotted the man resting on the steps. Petting his dog, the nightclub owner appeared a bit less tense to Assad. If the noise of him approaching harmlessly from the archway didn’t alert him to the medic’s presence, his clearly jesting comment did.

“Now, I’m no expert on winning over women, but,” Assad paused to take a swig from his bottle, holding up his free hand in a feigned surrender before finishing his sentence, in a terrible Irish accent. “Oi’d say ye’ done fooked up.”

التحركات السلس

Mentions: Roxanne Carriveau Bellz
Interactions: Mitchell Van Gerwen RayPurchase Syd Porter Pyroclast
—- Anyone he bumped into enroute. —-​

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

As relaxing as it was to be outside with his old dog, he knew he didn't really want to miss too much of the party. Family gatherings like this were among his favourite things in the world and he would never want to miss it - especially just to avoid some woman. He didn't deem his hopeless interaction with her worth ruining his night. There was only one way to go on if he was going to enjoy himself, and that was to put her out of his mind. Easier said than done, perhaps, but he was keen to try. Arrow shifted beneath Syd's hand, rearing her head to nestle her wet nose in his palm. He lightly wrapped his hand around her snout and leaned in close to kiss her between the eyes. "At least I've got you, eh?" he softly chuckled, taking another drag of his cigarette and leaning to one side to blow the smoke away from her. "Only girl I'll ever need."

Just then, he was interrupted by Assad's voice sounding from behind him. Syd immediately let go of the German Shepherd and stood up to face him, swooping down clumsily to pick up his wine glass on the way. Arrow trotted over to the man to give his shoes a thorough investigation. The first thing that struck him was the awful Irish accent that Assad had put on, which made Syd laugh heartily. "I do not sound like that!" Raising his glass to his lips, he added, in a joking manner, "That was embarrassing, Farrid. You should be ashamed."

While the evening was a pleasant one, the temperature outside was still significantly cooler than it was indoors. The rich, red wine warmed him nicely as it went down, and it was only when he made eye contact with Assad that he registered what the man had actually said to him. "Hey, who said anything about winning women over? I couldn't give a rat's arse what she was hoping to get from me." The fact that the man was addressing him about his uncomfortable encounter with Roxie told him that the two had managed to attract some attention from across the room, and he could only hope that his friend hadn't come outside purely to grill him about it. So, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and produced a silver cigarette case, holding it out to Assad in hopes that he would take one. That way, they could both pretend that he had really just wanted a smoke. "Better to fuck up now than later down the line," he admitted. "Not to disenchant you or anything, but dating and mob stuff don't exactly go hand in hand. I like to think I've got my priorities right where they need to be."

Syd dropped his cigarette and crushed it, then bent down to pick it up so that Arrow wouldn't eat it. His eyelids had grown very heavy now and he heaved a deep sigh, raking a hand through his hair. Syd had always been a lightweight, especially through having to exert such restrictions on his alcohol intake over the years. But now the medication he was on amplified the effects of drinking quite rapidly, and even though he had been determined to let loose and get drunk tonight, the sensible part of him knew it wasn't the best idea. He only hoped he would be able to stay awake for at least a couple more hours.

"How're you finding the party, Farrid?" he asked, a broad grin now on his face. Just being away from Roxie for a few minutes had seemed to reset his mood, and he was ready to get back into the party spirit. "Spoken to anyone interesting? Met anyone new?" Pausing to sip his wine, he added, "Got your sights set on anyone?"

Interactions
Inb4Cloaker Assad

 

[Misty Gray]

Savannah Callahan​

Savannah watched for a time as Roxie interacted with her cousin. She was starting to wonder if she should have stopped her friend from approaching him before she'd had chance to talk to Syd first. Whilst she and her cousin didn't see each other too often, she certainly wasn't aware that he'd been in any significant relationships since Skye had died. Did he even want to be? The former nanny's death had affected most of the family, but Syd and Savannah in particular had felt the hole the young woman's tragic death had left. Syd had been married and in love with the woman. For Savannah, she had known Skye as a friend rather than a nanny for years and she had often confided in her when she needed a sympathetic ear. Skye never got to see her performing on stage, but Savannah was determined to make sure everyone else who had supported her through life would get to see her succeed.

The blonde turned to Veronica and could see a kind of tiredness in the woman, but it was one she could only put down to the effects of the alcohol. A small, teasing smile crept on her faced as she looked at the bodyguard directly. Their conversation about men picked up and so she felt no need to mention Veronica's seeming distraction. She laughed at the woman's comment about men being hard work and quickly nodded her head in agreement. "Ohh, I love flirting," she enthusiastically began. "But you are quite right. Men really are hard work. Thankfully, I have theatre rehearsals and shifts at my family's clubs to keep me too busy for those complications," she trailed off. Though she was right about her work taking up a lot of time, she still couldn't ignore that empty feeling she had. It wasn't until recently that she began to really understood how alone and deprived her parents had felt during Peter's incarcerations. Then again, Savannah argued with herself that the best way to avoid such a loneliness would be to never experience the kind of love her parents had in the first place.

Savannah thought about Veronica's words stating she didn't have to stop drinking to appease her. "No, it's probably best I don't get too carried away. I don't think a hangover in the morning would do me any favours at all during rehearsals. André - my stage manager - can be a real dickhead if we show up after a late night and mess up any lines. Pretty sure he's a raging alcoholic himself, but I guess he can do what he wants," she explained, rolling her eyes.

A soft smile formed on Savannah's face as Veronica spoke a little Portuguese to her. When she was a child, she had wanted to speak Italian but hadn't managed to make considerable progress on account of her biological father had been Italian and mentioning him to her family had always been a sore topic. When she had grown old enough to pursue a tutor herself, she was far too busy with her studies and performances. She didn't have much time to dwell on her desire to learn another language as the bodyguard had spoken seemingly out of character and enquired as to whether there was something wrong. She too looked around the room for a time before looking back to Veronica. "I guess I'm just tired," she feebly began. "It's just weird, you know? I can get up on stage and perform for two hours, in front of hundreds of people, and it feels so natural and exciting. But when I'm at parties it feels more daunting... I can drink, laugh and party with my friends, but it feels like an act." She suddenly became aware that she was getting a little too deep for a party and scoffed at her own words before letting out a small laugh. "God, I'm sorry, Veronica..." she apologised, quickly shaking her head. "Let's not get too deep, shall we? How about..." she began, looking around the room for an entertaining distraction. "Okay, I've got it. If you did had time and inclination for men... who at this party do you find most attractive?" she curiously asked. Now I really do sound like the other girls... she thought, practically mocking herself.

lavendre (Veronica)

James Porter and Warren Taylor​

James observed Dante as he waited for the man to respond to his words about disposing of Billy Granger. Although he himself had never been one for toying with his marks, James appreciated that the hitman was good at producing results and he was happy to let the man be creative in doing so. The time for questioning morals had long since passed. Perhaps even long before James realised, back even before he was hired by Emmet Sullivan. Nowadays, anyone who threatened the Porters had lost their right to mercy.

A smile crossed the Boss' face when Dante confirmed Granger would be taken care of discreetly. "I knew I could count on you, mate," he accepted the man's assurance. Soon, Dante suggested James should start to enjoy the party and the man reluctantly nodded in agreement. "You're probably right. I wouldn't dream of making you have to defend yourself against Luce."

James was about to excuse himself and head off for another sneaky smoke before getting into the spirit of the party, but he and Dante were soon approached by Warren. Porter's half-brother nodded his head in acknowledgement to the two men, both of whom he'd already spoken to before the party got started. "Apparently I'm to report to Dante to take up position inside now," he said, motioning to one of the on-duty guard's standing in the sidelines of the room. "I'm happy working outside, y'know, James," he knowingly pointed out. "Neither of us enjoy big parties, remember."


"Yeah, and neither of us enjoy lectures from our mother," he spoke of Rayna. "If she finds out I let you sit outside working and miss the entire party, I'll have my ear chewed off all the way from Italy. Not to mention that she'll use Luce to get me," he half-joked. "At least grab yourself a drink before you insist on working." James sent Dante an appreciative nod for the man's work so far. "You okay to give Warren his instructions?" he asked.

Before James could completely walk off, Warren nudged the man's arm. "Lucy is going to get you soon enough, anyway. I caught Bruno chewing the head's off some flowers out in the front garden a bit ago," he said, making no attempt to hide his amusement. "The pup will be spared on account of being cute. But not you - you're screwed..." he teased.

shadowz1995 (Dante)

*****

James walked away from the two men with the intention of heading back to his office for another cigarette. He was both amused at Bruno antics but also anticipating Lucy finding out some of her garden had been redesigned by the puppy. As he approached his office door, James was about to reach for the key when he saw Lucy on her own. Realising it would be best not to let her see him retreat into his private office, he approached his wife and placed his arm around her waist. "There she is," he greeted her, placing a kiss on her lips. "Not trying to escape my party, are you?" he remarked, feigning offence.

"I was just going for a smoke. Care to get some fresh air with me?" he invited her, pointing in the direction of the back garden where he expected the flowers were all perfectly intact.


Bellz (Lucy)

 

[Bellz]

Lucy Porter
​

Although the party was full of adults, it seemed that the messes were just getting started and before she could find the kids, Lucy couldn't help herself as she begun picking up empty glasses and placing them in the kitchen. She had just returned to the room she was currently cleaning up in when she heard someone approaching. Raising her head, Lucy's face immediately broke out into a large smile at the sight of her husband. Meeting him the rest of the way, he wrapped an arm around her waisted and placed a kiss on her lips, causing the woman to hum happily. His next words caused her to laugh and she rolled her eyes, "I would never. I was more worried about you having escaped, its been a minute since I've seen you." She murmured.

When he informed her that he was going for a smoke and asked if she wanted to join him, the blonde nodded her head enthusiastically. "I would love to." Lucy said before leading him towards the back gardens. The headed out the nearest side exit, which brought them out to the side gardens which held Lucy's prized fruit trees. The main rose garden was around the corner, which Lucy had tended to earlier in the day, making sure the flowers looked lively and beautiful for the party. The air was a little cooler outside, so in her short dress, Lucy found herself shivering slightly. Leaning closer to her husband as they made their way towards one of the many benches, she commented, "A bit cold." before they both took a seat.

Her eyes looked towards the windows, at the party actively going on inside. It was routine for James to step away from such events, and she didn't mind one bit. He taught her that it was okay to take care of oneself, that she didn't have to keep up appearances all night and could step away. Lucy enjoyed these quiet moments they had together. "Enjoying your party?" She asked softly, her eyes turning away from the windows to look towards James, "Took my words seriously I hope?" There was a pause in her words before she went on, "Because you aren't the young man you use to be James...and I know you can do anything you set your mind to, but I worry. Probably a little too much sometimes, but I just want you to be safe."
with: James Misty Gray

 

[Misty Gray]

Emery Callahan​

Emery smirked when Peter told her she was a cute kid and because of that could get away with being as cheeky as she was. "I'm pretty sure I knew it, too," she pointed out, with a wink. "I was the youngest in that family for so long, so I had to come up with a way to capitalise on that," she admitted. She then straightened her posture and sucked in a proud deep breath. "Worked pretty well, I reckon." She still couldn't help but blush when her father touched her nose. Given that she was at a party and surrounded by others, she could be excused if she felt embarrassed and brushed him off. In reality, Emery never did care much what others thought about her. If being close to her parents wasn't deemed as cool, then she was happy not to be included into such a social status. Also, she'd punch anyone if they mocked her anyway.

"Complicated? No shit..." Emery mumbled as Peter began to address her concerns. As he continued, he told her he knew he was hurting the family. The teenager placed her hand firmly on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze as she saw him look down at the bar. "Stubborn? That sounds like the Callahan Family, alright!" she agreed. "Though let's face it, you saved the most beautiful creation until last," she playfully added, with a wink.

Still, no matter how much she wanted to lighten her father's mood, she knew it would only cause him to gloss over the issue at hand and this felt like the best chance she'd had at approaching him about it. "I can only imagine a tiny amount of what prison was like for you, Dad. But I know this isn't your fault and that you don't want to hurt us. I just want you and Mum to stop yelling at each other so much and learn to talk." She pulled a thoughtful face at his final comment before quickly nodding her head. "I agree that you should get help. When I was little I was always told not to be afraid to ask for help and that never stops being true, right?"

Emery took another drink of scotch, not bothering to pretend she wasn't more than familiar with the drink already. "I might have been tiny and I might have being tough, but when I was chasing fantasy rainbow kittens it didn't mean I was oblivious to reality. When you went to prison at the first time I was, what? Five? But I remember Mum's breakdown and how she wouldn't even get out of bed at all some days. There were times when Savvy even suggested we should go live with Lucy and James. Mum didn't mean it and we weren't angry with her, but it still hurt." Emery took a deep breath. "Then she finally accepted help. She started seeing her counsellor and taking her meds, then things started to improve. That will surely help you too, Dad," she encouraged him.

Bellz (Peter)

 

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan
​

Peter's jaw tightened as he listened to what Emery said, knowing that his daughter was right. It was a sad day when the parent had to be lectured their kid, and although he appreciated her honest, it was hard for him to hear. Emery threw back a life lesson that Sinead and him worked hard to teach all of their kids, asking for help was something to never be afraid of. Here he was, being a huge fucking hypocrite. Shaking his head just a fraction, Peter's eyes looked up to watch Emery take another drink of the scotch, noting this time that she didn't fake struggle at all. She went on to explain how she remembered the first time that he went to prison...Peter's back straightened a little more with interest. This wasn't something that any of them talked about, at least they hadn't talked about it with him. He never really knew how his children felt and went through after he went to prison the first time...the second time even.

Hearing of Sinead's breakdown caused the man to reach for the glass of scotch, taking the last of the alcohol, he caught the bartender's attention. Ordering another drink quickly, he turned back to Emery and gave her his full attention. Hearing that it was so bad to the point that it was suggested the kids live with Lucy and James, it broke his heart. Peter looked away from his daughter then, eyes searching for Sinead until they found her with Ali. His wife had accepted the help that she needed...and for a long time, Peter had done the same.

Now he was just getting his pills without really getting them adjusted by a doctor, counseling was just simply out of the question for him in the past...and he never really understood why. Once again, he found his jaw tightening as he looked at Sinead. Had she told this to him before? Why wasn't she honest with him about what her and the kids went through? Sure, he remember hearing something from her about it, but he couldn't recall that she ever went into detail...

Turning away from his wife, the bartender placed a new glass of scotch down on the bar. Peter didn't reach for it as he looked to Emery once more, "You're right sweetheart. I just have to find someone who will listen to your crazy old man." There was a small smile that formed on his lips as he then pushed the glass towards her. "I promise I will make up with your mother..."
with: Emery Misty Gray

 

[Misty Gray]

Emery Callahan​

Emery snickered at Peter commented about finding someone who would listen to him. "Ah, come on. There's people out there earning a living talking to crazy guys like you," she teased him. "I believe in you. For real, not like believing in Santa or any of that junk. You're the strongest, most decent man I know and I hope I can work alongside you, one day." Her smile grew brighter when her father pushed another scotch towards her. She sent him an appreciative nod as she placed her fingers lightly around the glass. "I'm glad to hear you'll try with Mum. You're both getting too old to be squabbling," she said, playfully nudging his arm. She knew the situation was serious and delicate, but she didn't want to make it more nerve-wracking for her father by being too serious.

"God, have you heard this music?" she asked. The background music had been some kind of jazz. Nice, formal and classy music, but it bored Emery. "When does the live music start? Did they even book any? Maybe you should talk Mum or Savvy into playing that piano. A treat for the birthday boy," she joked. As she looked around, she noticed her uncle had left the room. A devious little smile crossed her lips and Peter would recognise the glint in her eyes that suggested she was up to something. "In the meantime... I'm going to change the records." With her glass in one hand, she rushed off to where the record player was situated at the front of the room.

A few minutes later, the music took on a drastic change as 'Paint it Black' by one of Emery's beloved bands The Rolling Stones began playing through the speakers.


Bellz (Peter)

James Porter​

James walked with Lucy out to the back gardens, relieved she didn't head out front to where the beheaded flowers were situated. He hadn't fancied trying to steer her away from that. Poor Bruno would be in for a telling off. Maybe he could pay the kids to take the blame! As he thought of that idea, a playful smirk briefly crossed his face, but soon straightened out when he decided he would just take the his wife's disappointment on Bruno's behalf once she realised.

When they were outside, Lucy mentioned the colder temperature and moved in closer to him as they took a seat. "Ah, we can't have that, can we?" he asked. He briefly moved away so he could remove his suit jacket and he draped it over the blonde's lap to keep her legs warm. "Can't have you cold, can we? Even if it means hiding those gorgeous legs of yours," he flirted with her. He realised the handgun that he'd kept holstered at his waist was now visible, but he decided not to mention it, on the off-chance she hadn't noticed. Despite his trust in his employed security, he always did struggle to break the habit. Thinking of his security reminded him that Dante would likely be nearby, sticking to his words about keeping close by during the evening's event. He lit up a cigarette before wrapping the arm of his free hand around Lucy's shoulders.

"You know, despite escaping it for a break, I think I'm enjoying it. It's not like I have to get up in the middle of the room and make some lame speech, right?" he said, with a nervous laugh. He wasn't intending on a speech at all. He hoped inviting everyone and providing free drinks would be enough for his guests. He took a long drag of his cigarette before shaking his head. "You worry about me too much, love. I'm not that old. I could still give the younger ones a good hiding! Besides which, I let Dante take care of the security so we could relax, didn't I? This isn't Chicago or Dublin. There's no sadistic Italians or psychotic Commies, is there?" he reassured her.

"Do you think Gwen, Sinead or Savvy will take some time out to grace us with some music later? I didn't hire anyone because we already have the city's most talented artists in our family." He took another drag from his cigarette. "I'm not biased, not one bit--" James fell silent as he heard the sudden louder music coming from inside the house. "Did you hire a band?" he asked, failing to hide the smirk from his face. He had his suspicions as to who could have changed the records. Part of him considered some of his more uptight associates might not like the music, but another part of him didn't want to be the grumpy old man who would stop it.

Bellz (Lucy)

 

[Pilgrim59]

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

Interacted: Gwen ( Bellz )
Mentioned: N/A

​

Bailey and Gwen made their way to the courtyard, where conversations and cheers began to drown. Replaced by the chirping of the summer critters, and the calm warm zephyr that embraced their faces. Bailey was quite glad to hear Gwen's concession upon the prior's request. The girl had her ways of cuddling up to people, although only to those she deems worthy of her respect. While the two were rarely acquainted up until this point, Bailey wanted to do her bit to lend an ear, something she knew Gwen would have wanted as well. Where words could not escape an individual's lips, music and songs would serve as prime methods to express one's emotions. Perhaps it was the alcohol that had taken over Bailey's unorthodox initiative, or perhaps she was altogether a natural listener, the girl attentively studied Gwen's laugh and the way she replied. It struck Bailey hard, as she fell in a trance-like state, where time had stopped altogether. A familiar visage was embedded into her head, a nostalgic sensation of familiarity.

The external light posts, accompanied by the street lamps that surrounded the estate, albeit dim in comparison of the vibrant indoors, were more than enough to set a laid-back mood among the two. Bailey leaned against the railings that segregated the two from the green lawn below. The fresh cut grass and the open air had indulged the two with certain liberties that one could not find in the crowds. Back home in Texas, Bailey had spent much of her time in the scorching sun, and then the evening breeze. The notion and sensation of being comforted by nature were in itself a common liberty shared by those that came before them. From the Founding Fathers, to where they are now, the Land of the Free and Home of the Brave, as the common patriots had called it, had stayed true to its name. Among the decadence of the vibrant yet corrupt city, there were certain liberties that many were entitled to.

Reeling back to reality, Bailey eyed Gwen upon settling down and dwelling in the moment of respite. When asked about what she wanted to hear, Bailey gave a brief silence. The southern girl in red had nothing to offer but what she planned to be an escape plan from the crowd. It had ended there, as Bailey had little to go by what she wanted. After all, she wanted Gwen to be freed from the shackles that bound her to the current state that she had suffered. Trembling postures, and distant eyes. Ultimately giving in to her thoughts, Bailey stretched a smile across her face.

"Whatever comes to heart, I'd say. Show me what you've got!" Bailey said, tucking her hands behind her back and leaning forward. Fashioning for herself an adorable posture, the girl's eyes widened as her alcohol-flushed cheeks only furthered her charms to persuade Gwen into singing.

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad

​

Farrid promptly laughed and nearly dropped his drink, seeing the man spin around so quickly with a mock dissatisfaction. Strolling down the steps slightly, Assad was confronted by Arrow. Spotting the dog, he gave it a short wave as it strolled closer to his legs. Arching down a bit, the medic provided it a few light pats on the back whilst taking another sip from his beer.

“Awe, what a cutie you-“ Farrid was unable to finish his sentence as direct contact with the animal elicited a nearly immediate sneeze from him. Sighing, the prior insurgent curtly shook his head before standing straight with a disoriented, wobbly step. “Ya Rab, you little balls of fur are going to be the death of me.”

Further moving down the steps, Farrid looked out into the night as he embraced the cooler air engulfing him. Shifting from the somewhat chaotic environment of the party to a serene view such as this boosted Assad’s spirit significantly. Placing his free hand into his pocket, he did his best to ignore the nosy canine circling him, as well as his own allergies. Taking note of Syd’s choice of alcohol, Assad raised his bottle in a makeshift greeting before replying to the nightclub owner.

“Man, you haven’t heard yourself then. I remember when I first met an Irish person, nearly thought they were speaking in a different language.” In all honesty, Farrid acquired most of his knowledge of English back in the east by reading books or through teachings of fellow comrades who already knew the language. Picking up the slang when he first arrived was a nightmare, and he never accounted for the fact that he’d have to adjust to understand new phrases upon working for the Porters. Despite it all, Assad still had a soft spot for the unique voices of those he worked with, even if it caused him difficulty early on in his new career.

Farrid rolled his eyes jokingly as the man gave his reply, not wanting to criticize his wooing skills by debating the woman’s motives, Assad just listened attentively. Farrid soon focused on the silver cartridge he produced, somewhat curious as to what kind of brand Syd favored. Reaching forward, Assad gladly took one and returned a grateful thumbs up. After it was lit, the medic decided it would be best to keep the teasing going rather than get into a deep conversation about the topic; he knew how the nightclub owner handled meaningful talks sometimes. Taking a few puffs, Assad made sure a step was clear before sitting down with a relieved grunt. Confirming what Syd said, the Syrian driver agreed earnestly. “Ah, well you are correct in that sense...”

“...but, there are some exceptions, right? I mean, look around you. It may not be easy to get a relationship going in this business, or run a family, but it can be done. I mean, painting your face in gunpowder residue and keeping sterile medical equipment doesn’t go hand and hand either, yet I still did it.” Shrugging his shoulders, he was aware that the difficulty levels in rubbing your face with gunpowder and keeping a family well maintained were vastly different, but it was the only example he could think of at the time. Farrid still shared the same priorities of Syd; this business was not the place to settle down in if you wanted to be a family man all the time. Unfortunately, Assad was still human, despite wanting to pretend as though he was beyond an average persons needs. Given enough time and a strong desire, he’d probably end up pursing a relationship regardless of his own occupation. Syd then asked Farrid about the social event. “I’m enjoying it so far, I think. It’s good to everyone unwinding a bit, including yourself. It kinda pushes away what’s going on business wise. So far I’ve met our neighborhood arms dealer, a lawyer, and Phantom. Lots of diversity.”

Watching as the smoke he puffed out faded into the atmosphere, Assad carefully balanced out an occasional sip here and there between inhaling the tobacco product. When his bottle was drained and cigarette nearing its end, Assad took a final hit before putting it out on the pavement. Slipping the dead cigarette into his empty bottle, he offered the same fate to Syd’s own finished tobacco by holding his bottle out. The medic would just throw it away sometime later when he went back inside. Upon being asked if he had his eyes on anyone, Farrid pondered thoughtfully as he attempted to conjure up an appropriate reply. There wasn’t really an easy answer that Assad could provide, and his demeanor showed, but he had no reason to refrain from talking to the nightclub owner about it.

“Yeah, of course there is. I’ve been intrigued by someone here at the party, but there’s this one lady I’ve really been...” The medic trailed off, noticing Syd’s distinguishable fatigued manner. He didn’t know how Syd arrived to the party, but the prior insurgent offered his help just in case. “Hey, after this is all said and done I can drive you and your dogs back? I mean, I may die of allergies on the way, and Baker will have to take control, but it’s safer than the alternative.” Assad was willing to ignore his allergies in an effort to help Syd out, so the offer didn’t trouble him.

هناك واحد

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59 Mitchell Van Gerwen RayPurchase Dante Coreno shadowz1995
Interactions: Syd Porter Pyroclast​

​

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

With a sharp whistle, Syd captured the attention of his dog, who promptly padded over to him. "Off you go," he ordered, pointing aimlessly into the distance. After looking up at him with a forlorn look in her eyes, she obediently plodded off into the darkness. During the process of setting up the medic's clinic in his house, Syd had quickly become aware of the man's allergies. It wasn't just for obvious hygiene reasons that Syd had sectioned off a portion of the ground floor of his home from the animals, but also to accommodate his associate's averse reaction to them. "Sorry," he said, watching the dog disappear before turning back to Assad. "I forget sometimes. Can't imagine what I'd do if I had that same allergy. I feel sorry for you." Though it came out as a light-hearted comment, Syd honestly couldn't imagine life without the company of dogs; he had always been around them ever since he was adopted into the Porter family, and loved them to the extent that he didn't believe he would be alive today if it hadn't been for his dogs.

An amused grin spread across his face as Assad described his experience of adjusting to the sound of an Irish accent. "Yeah, well, moving to New York wasn't the first time I had to repeat myself to be understood. Schools in Dublin took this Chicagoan kid for some kinda alien!" he laughed, reverting back to his old American accent for a second. It felt strange for him to put it on, because it made his younger self seem like a completely different person yet still sounded natural, as though that part of his identity was still very much alive below the surface.

Managing to hide his relief when Assad accepted a cigarette, Syd slotted the case back into his jacket and joined the man in sitting back down on the step. Resting his elbows on his knees, Syd sat forwards and gazed at the wine glass which he held outstretched, spinning it carefully between his fingers as he listened to Farrid's take on the subject of balancing romantic relationships and business.

His words painted an amusing image in Syd's mind and he let out a laugh. "And it clearly didn't stop you from doing your job well, else I wouldn't trust you to sort out all those battle wounds I come home with." Although Syd was no stranger to gunfights and deadly conflicts, he knew that the kind of wars Assad had seen were on a different level to his own. He recognised that he would never understand the scope of the horrors that Assad had witnessed in his former career, but admired the man's strength to survive what he could only imagine to be deeply traumatic. "Those exceptions you're referring to aren't exactly the kind you'd want to model a relationship on, though. Apart from my parents - God, I don't know how they do it - everyone else's marriages are falling apart. If, like you're saying, it's not impossible to find someone among all the action, the business will find a way to get between you in the end. Being married to the job, you'll live a far less complicated life."

With his third glass now near empty, the natural filter that prevented him from discussing inappropriate topics had been somewhat compromised and, where usually he would know not to talk about other people's marriages, he didn't even notice what had slipped out of his mouth. Furthermore, Syd spoke without really knowing if he believed in his own words. Even though he had worried about it at the time, the trauma he had faced as a new recruit to the mob had never come between him and Skye. If anything, it had brought them closer, strengthening their bond and developing their level of communication and honesty. However, since it was true that many of his family members and associates were currently struggling with marital difficulties, he found himself using them as examples to justify his reluctance to open himself up to the prospect of dating. Trust was another reason he often brought up: not wanting to compromise the security of the business by letting in a woman from the outside, or otherwise ending up in a unhealthy relationship full of heavy secrets. In actual fact, the main reason - the one he just didn't ever want to admit - was that he simply didn't believe anyone could ever fill the hole that Skye had left in his heart.

Knowing that his father wasn't big on socialising, Syd couldn't speak for how important it was to him that this birthday party was a success. His mother, on the other hand, he knew worried greatly about how everyone was enjoying themselves, so he was pleased to hear that Farrid was having a good time so far. "Mm, it is good. Nothing helps you forget your troubles like a good party!" Normally, that was the case, anyway. It just so happened that a lot of conversations he had had tonight had stirred up things he would rather have left at the door. Nevertheless, the night was young, he was only on his first cigarette, and he could still tell himself that the party hadn't really got started yet. When Assad put his cigarette out and extended his empty bottle to him, Syd uttered a quick thanks and dropped his own crushed cigarette into it.

The man didn't immediately answer his question, causing Syd to turn and observe him for a moment through narrowed eyes. A smile wanted to creep across his face but he didn't let it, not wanting to put off his friend in case this kind of subject didn't come easily to him. But at last, the man began to speak. Hearing that there was someone at this party that held Farrid's interest, Syd sat up and propped his heavy head up on his fist, his eyes filled with intrigue. Despite his attention having been captured by his friend's little confession, however, he couldn't stifle the yawn that escaped him. The man must have noticed, because he trailed off before he could even mention who the woman was, and instead went on to offer Syd a ride home at the end of the night.

"Oh, no - I mean, it's a kind offer, but don't trouble yourself. I have an alternative already - there's a bed set up here waiting for me, and somewhere for the dogs to sleep, too. I'm trying not to think about it yet...it's too damn tempting." Syd laughed softly, rubbing at his eyes once more. "I know you're a brave man, Farrid, but I'd never have you die for me!" At this point, Syd was drinking his wine like there was no alcohol in it at all. Just holding it in his hands made it easier to drink absent-mindedly, and before he knew it the glass was empty. "Listen, if you want help with this woman...I mean, from what you just saw, I don't expect you to have any faith in me as a wing man, but you know. I know these people. Most of them, anyway. And as a friend," he gave Assad a firm pat on the shoulder. "I'd be willing to help you get to know them too." Truth be told, Syd couldn't help but be slightly suspicious that Assad hadn't gone on to tell him who the woman was. A lot of the people at this party were relatives of his, and he also knew that several were already taken. All he could do was hope that the object of his friend's affection wasn't an inappropriate choice.

Interactions
Inb4Cloaker Assad

 

[RayPurchase]

Mitchell Van Gerwen
Porter Residence

​

Mitch grins at Farrid, from only a relatively short conversation he could tell he was an alright bloke. Easy to talk to, friendly company, looks like he's just found a friendly face to gravitate to in case of the next huge social event. He slowly glances over his shoulder as Farrid gives him a nudge. Watching as Syd is quickly making his excuses and moving away, leaving the brunette at the bar, and looking a little shell shocked. Bloody hell what did he say to her, he'd only just arrived. He gives a half smile in Farrid's direction, I mean clearly something had gone wrong, and he didn’t exactly want to revel in Syd’s clear discomfort, or the woman’s at that, but hey at the very least as Farrid said she could do with some cheering up, hell worse case scenario, he sidles round the bar grabs himself a fresh drink, gets shot down in flames and kicked in the shin but enjoys his fresh drink in the corner, swings and roundabouts.

He grins more fully now and gives Farrid a soft pat on the arm.

“Yeah make sure he's alright, no one should be that down at their own father's birthday, well aside from myself of course, but they’ve stopped sending me invites now. And drop a prayer or two for me,”

He pushes himself up from the bar and begins navigating his way through the crowd. It’s a dance essentially, deft footwork around a rather overburdened waiter here, a wiggle of the hips and a flipping of the shoulder past a slightly portly gentleman but at the same time avoiding the woman who is about to unknowingly back into said gentleman. All with the barest of brushes of clothing at most. Right battle plan, avoid all clichés, or maybe use all the clichés, they were clichés for a reason he supposed. Shit he was nearly there now, shit she was even better looking up close, shit why are so many clichés terrible. He gives himself a mental slap around the face. Cool your jets Mitch. Just be... well not yourself, we know that’s a recipe for disaster, be Social Mitch, Work Mitch, anything but Home Mitch.

As he moves past a final waiter he catches sight of her. Still at the bar, and still looking slightly down from whatever her encounter with Syd ended with. I mean even without the smile that had been flashing across the room she was still stunning. Right be calm be suave, motto of the moment. He takes a perch next to her on the bar, elbow against the bar top. He places the empty bottle on the bar, nodding in the direction of the barman who approached.

“Just the same again please,”

He glances over at the woman, flashing her an apologetic grin at ruining whatever train of thought she may have been having as he receives his beer.

“Apologies you don’t mind if I join you? I find drinking alone is far less socially acceptable than drinking with company, and my previous company is currently engaged with a third party?”

(Interaction: Bellz Roxie
Inb4Cloaker Farrid)

 

[lavendre]

Veronica listened as Savannah confessed that all her activities kept her busy for the most part. Observing the young lady as she spoke, she seemed a bit fatigued as well. At the same time, she was quite lively and appeared to be very social in her conversation with the bodyguard. She was practically a little girl, yet caught up in the hectic double-life of the mob. That likely didn't help when she had her eyes on a certain man. Granted, Veronica was only 4 years older than Savannah, old enough to be a daughter of the Callahans or Porters, and she too was involved in life of the Irish mob. But the difference was that the mob life was directly intertwined her life. Being involved with the family for several years thus far, Veronica knew the sacrifices which had to be made. Savannah was young and still somewhatnaive; she likely had not seen the deep nitty-gritty often associated with the lifestyle, and she didn't need to. It required a certain toughness, synonymous with heartlessness, to be aware of threats, and often take them on yourself through violent means, and remain unfazed. Throwing punches and getting away with it, making more money than most - it wasn't always as pleasant as it seemed. It cost you to be loyal only to your duties and your associates, and to give up much of what you had. It had not aged her physically, as she had to keep in shape, but mentally, she was forced to adopt a sense of maturity far beyond that of others her age.

Of course, she wouldn't voice all this to a 22-year-old. Veronica wasn't that socially inept. In fact, despite her usual introversion, she was quite the opposite, knowing the things which she shouldn't say, though not always knowing how to format her words. Savannah briefly spoke about her rude stage manager, which made her frown slightly. She looked towards the party in front of her as the girl made apparent the wrath of said manager.

"He sounds nasty. Well, if that cachorro even lays a finger on you, you know who to tell. We'll make him wish he never made such a mistake."

She gave off a wry laugh and smiled, hoping that Savannah would take it as a promise rather than a threat. Veronica exaggerated her rolled double r, which showed that she was joking, but the steely edge in her voice depicted her seriousness at the same time. Savannah was lucky that she had many people who would come to her defense. It wasn't just Veronica, but many others, including her parents and associates. While there were inconveniences, she truly enjoyed several aspects of her job. Serving justice was quite important to her and if action had to be taken, this Andre guy had it coming.

She watched the girl as she sighed and told Veronica about her plight. Veronica simply gave a low hum while listening and making an attempt to empathize, maintaining eye contact and noting the frailty of her tone. She was not one to put up an "act" in front of people, especially strangers. She couldn't care less about the opinions of people who didn't even know her. Though she could not fully grasp what Savannah thought or felt, she often pondered on the thought of feeling like she kept a secret from the world. It was a very odd situation, not one that she was always in conflict with, but she knew that most people wouldn't be able to comprehend the motivations behind the organization she worked with. She did what she had to do, but it was going to be different with Savannah, a younger relative who was only loosely connected the mob through her parents and extended family.

The conversation took a turn as she directed her thoughts towards more pleasant things, apologizing for the solemnity of her words. Veronica nodded in understanding and was surprised as their interaction somehow turned back to the subject of men. She smirked, taking a brief look around the room before turning back to the Callahan daughter. "I'll be honest - I already recognize many of these faces. I will say that everyone looks good and well-dressed, but there are none here that I find particularly striking. "

Suddenly, the peaceful classic music changed to a spunkier rock sound. Veronica noticed this quickly, as it changed the mood of the whole room. What had just been a posh birthday party seconds ago suddenly seemed like it had an edgy teenager as the DJ. It was odd and conflicting, possibly even frustrating for some partygoers, at worst but it was also amusing at best. She did not attempt to hide this amusement as she looked at Savannah.

"It sounds like your sister's playing one of her records. It's . . . an interesting choice. I hope the others don't mind it. I actually like it," she emarked as she turned her attention towards the confused guests.

veronica carvalho

chaffeur + bodyguard affiliated with the porters

outfit: x x x
mentioning: Savannah, Emery ( Misty Gray )
interacting w/: Savannah ( Misty Gray )
feeling: thoughtful / entertained

 

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan
​

Peter found himself on again rolling his eyes at his youngest daughter, a small smile settled on his face as she teased him about being a crazy guy. But what she said afterwards could have brought a tear to his eye if they weren't in front of so many people. So instead of letting his emotions show, he simply nodded his head in response, watching as Emery once again wrapped her hand around the glass, ready to take a sip. Before he could get out anything more, Emery made a comment about the music, causing him to laugh out loud. He remembered her liking jazz music as a child, as it was all she grew up on. But he was sure she had heard it enough by now and had grown tired of it. He understood that to a degree. He thought he would love jazz music forever, but that was just another thing that could be added to the list of changes.

In prison, any music played, if at all, was only rock n' roll, which the man had grown to like while serving his time. Being asked about the live music, Peter shrugged his shoulders lightly and let out a soft laugh at the suggestion of talking either of his other girls into performing. Noticing a familiar glint in Emery's eyes, Peter shook his head, "Oh no...here we go." He commented teasingly before she spoke of changing the records.

With his scotch in her hand, she walked off quickly in search of the record player and the man sighed watching her go. Feeling like he had been played just a bit for alcohol, Peter ordered himself another scotch before eyeballing the area where Sinead and Ali were. Swallowing his pride, the man stood slowly from his corner barstool and just in time, his drink was handed to him. Thanking the bartender, Peter slowly made his way through the crowd towards his wife.
He knew something just wasn't right when he was sweating bullets on his way over. Why couldn't he just be normal around her anymore? None of it made sense to Peter but he knew that if he didn't get into the right headspace by the time he made it over to her, his efforts would be pointless. Taking a drink as he took the few extra steps, Peter cleared his throat, making a rather shy entrance. "Ladies," He murmured lowly his eyes finding Sinead's, "As you can probably hear now, Emery has taken over the party." A smirk of amusement formed on his lips as he tried to keep the interaction light, hoping that his wife would just forget about what happened early, wanting to start over again.
with: Emery +Sinead Misty Gray ; Aliana Melanin-Gxdess

Lucy Porter
​

Lucy's cheeks felt warm as her husband flirted with her, even in their older age, some things just never changed. Sighing at the warm, Lucy didn't notice the handgun until her eyes casted downward to fix the jacket slightly. Seeing it, she knew there wasn't a lot she could say on the matter. Years of violence and devastation simply made her husband this way, and she didn't mind it at all really. Sure, she always wanted him to settle down and enjoy his time that he had to himself and with his family but she knew that she was kidding herself if she thought he would walk around unarmed.

Listening as James explained that he might be enjoying the party, it made her smile widely. Chuckling, she shook her head, "No, you don't have to make a speech. But I might say a little something about you if you don't mind." She murmured. Although she had quit long ago, sometimes the delicious scent of a cigarette was all too much for her. Doing as she had done in the past, she plucked the cigarette from James' hand and took a long drag for herself, "I couldn't resist." She said as an excuse before placing the stick back between her husbands fingers.

He was right, he did let Dante take care of security. They were safe here. No sadistic Italians or psychotic Commies. That was a good sign. Although he had a good point, Lucy still couldn't help but worry just a little bit. Her gut told her that something was off and she always did trust it. Still, knowing that she would spoil the party mood, the blonde said nothing as James went on to speak of live music. He fell silent and Lucy looked towards the windows. "I definitely wouldn't have hired that kind of band." Lucy said with amusement. Shaking her head lightly, Lucy let the moment carry on for another few moments before she stood up slowly, holding James' jacket to him. "We should probably get that live music going, I love Emery but sometimes that music gives me a headache."
with: James Misty Gray

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad

​

Farrid nodded thoughtfully as he interpreted Syd’s opinion regarding relationships that intermingled with mob life. Assad recognized the mans deeper thinking, and was appreciative of the way he could turn it into a more humorous situation. If the medic had to give credit to where most of his practical knowledge came from regarding his current career, he’d probably have to attribute it to the nightclub owner and the tidbits of insight he provided Farrid. As such, the reply about his family stuck with him. The prior insurgent was forced to acknowledge that Syd’s parents were very lucky to have gotten to where they are together. Others have tried and failed to maintain healthy relationships in this business; the evidence wasn’t far away from the very spot Farrid was sitting.

Toying with the empty bottle in his grasp, Assad nodded humbly towards Syd and waved his hand, somewhat embarrassed by the praise he received. It wasn’t unusual to be given a thanks or curt nod for performing his job, but that was about it. The nightclub was one of the few that made sure Farrid knew the value of his work, and he was grateful for the recognition. In return, he always made sure whatever treatments he provided Syd and his associates were of the best quality he could provide. That, and the fact that Syd was probably his most frequently treated patient had established a balanced friendship between the two over the course of a year.

“Ah, it’s just a skill like any other. You’re brawling wounds aren’t ever that bad, although I’m surprised your knuckles haven’t been turned to powder yet.” Farrid gave a hearty laugh as he tapped his knee with the bottle, continuing briefly until the nightclub owner responded to his offer of taking them home. Crossing his arms, he acknowledged Syd’s answer and once again shook his head, eliciting a small chuckle at being referred to as brave. Sometimes, he asked himself if he actually was a brave person. Fellow allies he served with back home would confirm that he was, but those he opposed commonly referred to himself and his comrades as anything but brave. It was difficult for Farrid to explain to people who hadn’t experienced insurgency themselves. Such an occupation was typically a disorganized, ruthless, and emotionally driven type of conflict. The only advantages they had to work with involved the lack of laws they had to adhere to and the knowledge that they had little to lose; a very lethal combination.

Assad felt himself slipping back into his morbid state at the thought of it, and his demons manifested in his peripherals. As quick as they returned, they also faded away at the mention of Syd being his wingman. Glad of an opportunity to turn to something else, Farrid figured that now as good a time as any to delve into his own interests. Hoping that the nightclub owner could give some advice, he decided to take advantage of the liquid courage he drank earlier to elicit the following phrases.

“Pff, I appreciate the offer. I don’t doubt your skills, but I think I’ll be fine. I hope.” Assad finished the sentence, unsure while glancing over at the nightclub owner’s clearly intoxicated expression. Feeling the pat on his arm, Assad sensed a bit of worry within his friend’s tone, and deemed it necessary to dispel any concerns he had established. Recalling his interests through his buzzed and clouded mind, Assad gave in to Syd’s charismatic behavior.

“Well, there was this one lady in there who caught my eye. Black clothing, looked like she was holding herself pretty seriously. I think she’s a guard? I don’t know her name, yet, but I’ve seen her around a few times.” Farrid knew he could’ve left his situation at that, and just stop speaking. The lady he described did catch his attention after all, but he felt as though it was mostly because it was natural to be drawn towards a pretty figure. This meant his only attraction was all based around physical appearances, and not personality just yet. Plus, he was buzzed, so that didn’t help his mind come to a firm conclusion. Besides, Farrid did actually have someone else that he had been considering for a consistent amount of time, unfortunately, that brought a multitude of issues and poor circumstances, which led Farrid to reluctantly piggyback off his last sentence.

“However.” He said, gripping the empty glass as he ceased fiddling it.

“Our resident arms dealer has been on my mind for sometime now. More than a few months.” The prior insurgent spoke, his tone lowering considerably, as though it was something he didn’t imagine saying aloud. Since he had already revealed this part, he might as well spill the rest. “I’ve been quiet about it though. Firstly, if my mother was still around and I introduced them to one another, I’d be disowned on the spot.” Grunting, Farrid stood and left the bottle where he was sitting before strolling of the steps. Keeping his arms crossed, the prior insurgent paced in a small circle along the concrete below. Trying to keep his anxious and thoughtful movements to a minimum, he continued his reasons.

“Second. We live together already. One of the first words I ever learned was awkward, and let me tell you, that would adequately fit the situation if I said the wrong thing at the wrong time.” Assad then shrugged hopelessly, dropping his arms by his sides as he looked at Syd, as though he was seeking an answer.

“I never thought I’d be drawn to someone like this. Maybe it’s because she can dismantle more guns than I’ve ever known to exist? Or maybe it’s because she can out-drink everyone I’ve ever known back out east? Or, or... it’s just because she’s got a pleasant personality, I dunno.” Biting his lip, Farrid resumed his pacing momentarily while looking up into the dark void above him, recalling what he heard his father tell him years before.

“My old man once said people with red hair were children of the devil. If that’s the case, then I’m probably going straight to hell when I die. Damn.” The medic was able to slip in one joke during that revelation, at least. As if he’d make it up to heaven at this point anyways. Hiding a wishful smile, he glanced past Syd and at his empty bottle, longing for another beer. Assad craved another drink, especially after that conversation, which he found to be a bit more revealing than he anticipated. He could only hope that the nightclub owner would keep his confession under wraps.

إنه محرج

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59 Veronica Carvalho lavendre
Interactions: Syd Porter Pyroclast​

 

[Trappy]

Braden

Now at the Porters' estate, in the centre of the party, if the young man had to confess, the whole gala was a bit much for him. Braden had been tagging along with his sister among the crowd, whispering apologies and giving slight bows as the two made a beeline for the bar, until she left him there after the bartender refused to serve her. Given the circumstances, Braden decided to take opportunity of his legal age and ordered a whiskey, just to honour his roots. Warmth washed over the interior of his mouth with but a sip, and the rich taste took over like a firm, dry blanket enveloping his tongue. Braden spent a moment savouring the flavours that began coursing through his body and a little taste of the life he was still getting used to. Despite the young man's efforts to fend for himself, Sinead loved to spoil her children. This still held influences over Braden's entry into adult life.

Fiddling with the glass in his hand, Braden scanned the crowd. He could spend the rest of the night at the bar enjoying a moment of isolation, peace and getting wasted in the process, or hitting up with some familiar faces. Emery seemed to have hit up their father, probably to calm the old man after he and Mother fought. His sister was alright for a talker - Braden thought. He could count on her to help keep the family together, and more than anything, he hoped to keep her clear of the family's business. It'd be nice to have someone clean in the family.

On the other side of the party, Braden spotted Miss Baker, a close associate of his in the business, and keeping her company were a few other familiar faces that he'd seen around, but never had a chance to interact with. Downing the rest of his drink in a mouthful and getting it refilled, Braden began making his way to the arms-dealer, keen to at least stay around associates for the night.

"Hello, Miss Bailey. Pleasant evening?" The man greeted as he approached.

Interacting: Pilgrim59
Mentioned: Emery, Peter, Sinead Callahan

 

[Bellz]

Roxanne Carriveau
​

Roxie felt like a twig ready to snap under the scrutiny of Syd’s narrowed eyes. What the hell is his problem? she thought to herself as she slowly lifted her glass to take yet another drink, forcing herself to look away from the man. When she moved the glass from her lips, he went on to speak about her keeping things as vague as him. His tone was so monotone, she wondered for a moment if she was talking to someone who was human. Her glance looked towards him again, particularly looking into his eyes, looking for any sign of light.

The warmth he had been exuding when talking with the blonde woman was nowhere to be seen, and it was so cold that Roxie felt the need to shiver. His tone with her was beginning to make her blood boil and she knew she had to try to keep her cool. Maybe he was reacting this way because he was a married man, not wanting attention from other women when he was in fact taken. The smile was painfully forced and Roxie wished he would just stop pretending for her.

Once again, the woman was confused as the man chuckled at his own pronunciation, seeming as if he was enjoying the conversation. But she knew better by now. Instead of saying anything, she raised her glass in return to him and simply took another long and hearty drink, polishing it off quickly.

Before she had a chance to even set the delicate wine glass on the bar, Syd stood from his stool, swaying, Roxie stood up as well ready to help the man if needed. He didn’t seem to notice as he told her to enjoy the party...and just like that, he walked away another forced smile sent her way. Staring at him until he was lost in the crowd, the woman felt like she was wearing a second skin. Thick and heavy, it weighed down on her so much that she felt like she could breathe any longer.

Turning back to the bar quickly, Roxie gasped out another order for some wine before letting her head hang. This definitely wasn’t her night. Not only had she hit on someone else’s man, but he had made her feel so dirty that she felt the need to shower. He seemed to make it perfectly clear that she didn’t belong here. The confidence she had wore was no more.

Noticing that Savvy was still in conversation with Veronica, Roxie decided that it was best to just sit on her own for a while. With her drink placed in front of her, the woman held the leg and swirled the wine around gently, not bothering to take a drink yet. She hadn’t noticed the man who sat next to her until he spoke.

His grin was kind and Roxie found her own smile growing. He asked if he could join her and the brunette let out a slow sigh, ”If you think I’m proper company, I wouldn’t want to ruin anyone else’s night.” Biting her lip, Roxie looked almost shyly at the man before her. He was handsome, dark hair and beautiful green eyes that look like pools of melted emeralds. Holding out her hand delicately, the brunette tried to smile a little wider, ”Roxie, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr...?”
With: Mitchel RayPurchase
Mentions: Syd Pyroclast