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

[Misty Gray]

Maddox Parker​

Maddox noticed the way mentioning Skye seemed to evoke a more emotive response from Syd - one of apparent surprise. It wasn't that the counsellor assumed his client hadn't been in a relationship since Skye, but the fact was that Syd hadn't brought up the subject of dating during their sessions. If he were for some reason asked if he thought Syd had been in a significant relationship since losing his wife, Maddox would be forced to admit he doubted the younger man had.

Syd was unable to answer the question about what he thought Skye would want him to do, but the man's response could have gone a number of different ways. Maddox made a mental note to approach his intended thought provocation in a different way. For now, the subject drifted towards a different path and the counsellor rolled with it for the time-being. It was relieving to hear that Syd was acknowledging he had plenty to live for and therefore the previous suicidal thoughts hadn't been resurfacing. Hearing how Skye had been in an orphanage and had appreciated the outdoors led Maddox to nod his head in understanding. "From what you've told me in past sessions, you helped Skye make up for the time she'd lost and you were able to share her appreciation for the freedom she obtained after leaving the orphanage." He cleared his throat and observed Syd's expression. "Would you say you feel trapped by your grief?"

Maddox listened as Syd spoke about love and how he didn't believe he could love anyone else, as well as being unable to find a solution. "People are capable of all kinds of love. It's also possible to find romantic love again whilst still honouring that which was for a loved one who has passed away. The grieving process doesn't have a set time-frame or path, but time does increase the possibility of evolving and finding ways to adapt." Maddox briefly rubbed his chin and allowed a brief silence to pass as he thought back to an earlier point. "I'm curious to put this into a different perspective. If you had been the one who had died and were existing in the afterlife, what would you want Skye to do? Would you want to see her happy and able to live the rest of her life; to let her eventually find love again? Do you think you and Skye would differ on that front?"


Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Misty Gray]

Detective Smithson
~ New York Police Department ~

The Detective nodded his head to himself as Lucy seemed to confirm what he'd expected to happen. The Porters were well versed in dealing with the police and getting a straight answer out of them - if any answer at all - would be nothing short of a miracle. Rather than answering him, Lucy posed questions of her own.

"This investigation is being led by the department over in Connecticut. What I will be doing is looking for any leads right here in New York. That's why you're here and I'm asking if you know anything that could be useful. You might live in different states, but I expect your family keeps in touch. Keeps on top of each others' business," he noted. "There are all kinds of possible explanations for Miss Sullivan's disappearance and looking for a body is unfortunately one avenue we must explore. The fact Patrick Dawson had been missing for some days sounds alarm bells with me." The cop sat back and let out a long sigh, not expecting Lucy would cooperate at all, even if if was for her cousin's sake. He also suspected Lucy would be more eager to be with Olivia. "Unless, of course, you know something I don't? I mean, would she choose to disappear and abandon her child, even for just a day or two?"

*******
Olivia Sullivan

Olivia lifted her head when Thomas put his arm around her shoulder. She turned to stare at his face when he told her it was okay to be scared. Arlene had always been tough and brave in the girl's eyes. She was always told to look after herself and not let anyone get in her way. It didn't seem so easy to Olivia, which was why she was afraid as she sat in the police station knowing her mother hadn't returned home and none of the adults looked comfortable with that. She quickly nodded her head when her cousin reassured her she was still brave even if scared.

Olivia lightly chewed her bottom lip as she pondered Thomas' question about them playing again. Eventually, she looked around the room before focusing back to Thomas. "What shall we play, Tom?" she softly asked.

Bellz (Lucy, Thomas)​

[/QUOTE]

 

[Bellz]

Roxanne Carriveau
​

Smiling lightly, Roxie feeling happier than she had in a really long time, was unable to keep such emotions from showing for too long. There was something about this man that just clicked with her, well, they clicked. It had been an awfully long time since she'd talked to a man beyond introductions and simple answer and questions. Roxie wasn't proud of her past with men, more she wasn't proud of the number of men from her past. It always went the same way most of the time, Roxie was always far too busy with work and advancing her education, she thrived to be on top. It was often those strong motivations that end up clouding her judgement and feelings in other aspects of her life. Beyond work and school, Roxie wasn't much of a class act...or at least that's how her parents would put it. Not much impressed them these days...

Before she could wonder when they would call Mitch's final words caused her to let out an amused laugh, "Its it a norm for everyone to make fun of that poor man's age? I'm telling you right now, any of my friends at the university would swoon over such a man. Dangerous, muscular, gorgeously rugged...not to mention he is loaded..." The more she thought about who James Porter was, the less she like the idea of that kind of man. She didn't want to offend, "But definitely not my type..."

Once again, she was interrupted, the exit coming up fast. "Lenox Hill, Manhattan. I can get you there if you take this exit coming up." The car ride and the atmosphere was so uplifting that Roxie was beaming when they parked in front of her apartment building. Looking to the parking meter as she got out, she waved it off, "Don't bother trying to put money in that thing, we've been trying to get it fixed for months. Should've seen how I shoved all 17 parking tickets back into the street officers face, not my problem they can't fix it! I gotta park!" Shaking her head, Roxie lead Mitch towards the entrance of her building. Making it to the top floor, it was the last door on the left.

"So this might not be a criminal's top dollar suburban mansion, but I call it home so there must be something special about it." Opening the door, she revealed the living room with its beautifully colored light blue walls and art deco looking furniture, "Groovy isn't it!" She asked, "Please feel free to sit or look around, again its not as grand but upside, you can't get lost. I'll be back in a moment." With that, Roxie leaned on her toes and place a kiss on Mitch's cheek, "Thanks for the ride, handsome." With a wink, she tried not to skip off to her room.

Once the door was shut, Roxie leaned her back against it, the smile was starting to hurt her face. Maybe she should call a doctor? Stupid! She thought. Her mind was racing as she started shifting through her clothes in the closet, looking for something perfect to wear. Several outfits later and she was strutting out confidently, "I think I'm ready now!" She sang enthusiastically as she rounded the corner of the hall into the living room. "What do you think?"
with: Mitch RayPurchase

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
Bailey & Farrid's Apartment, Queens, New York
July 3rd, 1971 (Morning)

Interacted: Farrid ( Inb4Cloaker )
Mentioned: N/A

​

Spoiler: Dreams

"BAILEY! WHERE'D YOU RAN OFF TO?! BAILEY!" a course and rough voice echoed within the confines of the white house.

"Pa! Stop it! She dun no any bett'r! Leave her be!" the voices rang throughout the wheat field this time, as a younger figure dispatched himself with haste to confront the old man.

"Outta mah way, Johnnie. Now where that girl ran off to? BAILEY! Git back 'ere!!"

The sound of broken glass, accompanied by a loud thud accompanied the heated old man, as everything that stood in his path were all but displaced where he trod. His hand held firmly onto his bloodied hands, where a S&W Model 1917 had resided upon. The damsel, dyed in crimson stains had taken refuge in the golden field. The warm breeze of the scorching summer afternoon embraced the guilty creature in hiding. The young girl sniffled here and there, as she eyed her father and brother. Where the latter had tried to calm down the troubled old man, he was only met by a series of resolute strikes.

"... Bailey... " the man's revolver cocked back at the swift command of his thumb.

A resounding click of the hammer, followed by a soft, yet seemingly audible tug at the trigger. Everything around her faded into silence.

BANG!

Bailey awoken to the sound of the obnoxious traffic horns and passerby yells. A common sight to behold in the busy city, even in Queens. Granted, it wasn't as crowded as Upper Manhattan, but the country girl have yet to cope with the trademarks of what made New York as it is today. Filled with sweat, the maiden quickly got up from her bed. Endowed with terrible sentiments from her brief nightmare, Bailey was shaking uncontrollably. Her hands embraced her sweat-filled face. While she did not weep, nor did she let her anxieties got the better of her, tears flowed from her pale cheeks. It has been a while since the events of that fateful day, but she has yet to let it go, despite her best efforts. Recovering from her bad wake up call, the girl eyed the room, recollecting her thoughts, and perhaps what was left of her reservations of sanity. Perhaps this was the very reason why she started drinking, but Bailey would digress. She accepted her place, here and now - far away from the wheat fields in Texas and within the comforts of her room in Queens.

Since a young age, she had witnessed the evils that her father had brought home from Europe. Bailey had only been brought to this world after her father had settled in, but the dark minds of a shell-shocked man of war has yet to dissipate. The scars of those who went to the front resided not on their bodies, but rather their minds. It ate away parts of him, as the young Bailey saw, like a parasite. As the younger child, she witnessed the effects first-hand physically, as did her mother. She despised it, her hatred for what made a man dangerous - the armaments of war. Yet here she stood, an arms dealer of her own ironic past. To Bailey, she was only furthering what she had learnt best. But unspoken tales of this troubled young woman was all but a simple concession to the norms of the world. There were times that the young Texan had wanted to end it all, but she did not have the courage to pull the trigger.

Bailey reached out for a bottle of Jack upon her nightstand, and quickly took a shot. Letting out a heavy sigh, the girl reeled herself from these thoughts. It caught her attention - she reeked of alcohol and bad decisions. The girl knew this and hesitated little, as she waltzed her way to the bathroom. The apartment, while coined "run-down" by most, was actually mostly intact. Mostly. The walls and flooring were given the graceful attentions of the gunrunner and her roommate. Where the weathered external walls stood, the undeserving renovations for her shared flat was distinct in its course. To her, it was a habitable environment, for what it was worth. After all, there was no reason for her to draw attention to herself with a grand estate. Glamorous expenditures in vain, as she viewed it. It would not take long for the Feds to catch onto her should she chose such a lavish lifestyle. With a non-conspicuous place like this, it would spare her and Farrid a visit from a bunch of men in suits.

Emerging from her room, the girl waved at Farrid briefly, as she dragged herself towards the bathroom with a slouched stance, like a dying dinosaur looking for water. What was once a graceful lady in red from the night before, was now a faulty derelict. The showers ran for a few minutes, before Bailey made her entry upon the living room again. This time, her pale and sickly figure had been replaced with a cheerful and lively appearance in her gray dress. It was almost as if two different people switching places in the world at the flip of a button.

Bailey leaned against the corner and eyed Farrid for a while. It didn't take long for the Syrian to catch her eyeing him.

"What ya workin' on, chum?" Bailey lifted the silence between her and Farrid.

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad​

Assad wrote in a relatively calm manner, slouching back in his seat as he conveyed his thoughts onto the paper. He almost missed the sight of the gunrunner, and only noticed her after he made a double take in her direction. Before he could say anything, the woman had vanished back into the bathroom. Having ceased his writing, the medic frowned at the sight of the disheveled arms dealer. Concern crossed his features as he heard the sound of water run, and he faced back towards the desk. Farrid was unsure of what plagued her mood, and wondered if he should ask if she’s doing alright. The Syrian driver was also careful about prying into personal business when in a career such as his, as he knew that some things were best left buried. He would be subtle and casual about it.

Realizing that he was staring at an almost complete paper, he shook off the trance he was in before returning to the task at hand. Resuming his writing, the medic felt himself speed up his efforts in an attempt to rush the process. His doubled pace pertained to the fact that he didn’t want to spend more time than was absolutely required to finish the letter rather than the desire to hide it from his roommate, like he used to when he first moved in. Still, the contents of this particular piece of mail would make him uncomfortable if they were subject to inspection, regardless if the person who saw them could read it or not. It didn’t take long for the prior insurgent to wrap up his thoughts, re-read what he wrote, and prep the paper for mailing.

The gunrunner would’ve observed Farrid sealing the envelope with a sigh of relief before plopping it down on the desk. Pushing the pen aside, the medic ran a hand through his hair and was considering a visit to the post office before he caught a glimpse of Bailey observing from around the corner. Displaying a lazy peace sign, the medic smiled tiredly as he turned in his seat. She looked much different from when he first saw her shuffle into the restroom, and he was reassured by her relatively cheerful appearance.

“I’m writing a letter to the guy who sent me the saber. Just thanking him.” Farrid was able to speak truthfully, as, in a way, he was thanking his distant friend; along with inquiring about other matters. Assad wasn’t one to keep secrets, but reluctance filled his body at the thought of revealing his overseas discussions.

“Are you alright? I know last night was a bit heavy in terms of alcohol available. And, I was able to get some pudding, which had me worried that you got lost.” The medic joked, laughing as he remembered her statement about him not being able to get any if he waited too long. Pushing himself out of his seat, his attention was drawn to the nearby open window, which was allowing more noise in his room than he currently wanted. Stepping around the desk, the medic slipped behind the red flag dangling above the window and promptly closed the window. With the glass reflecting a bit more sound, Farrid gladly welcomed the decrease in outside noise while moving back out into view. Spotting his still disassembled scattergun, the prior insurgent collected the pieces with the intention of quickly reassembling his prized weapon.

Facing his roommate once more, he bit his lip as his hands began to work the barrel and pump back into place. Thankfully, he hadn’t completely gutted the weapon earlier, so compiling the pieces to ensure function was a simple task. Midway through applying the barrel to the Mossberg, Assad heard his friend’s words within his mind again. While the grip of alcohol was firm around him during the party, his conversation with Syd had yet to leave his thoughts. As though he was tired of the mental battle between his fears and desires, Farrid took a leap of faith and trusted in the advice he was given, ignoring the worries that were trying to persuade him otherwise.

“Hey, I wanted to ask. Do you want to go somewhere to grab a bite later? Somewhere nice. Y’know, something a bit better than fast food or whatever. I’ll pay. Or I could cook something nice.” Over the course of speaking, Farrid slowly started to turn away from the woman. With his side to Bailey, Assad focused intently on his shotgun, as though he was inspecting every inch of it. Realistically, the medic was beginning to feel his skin heat up, and was masking his light blush by obscuring his face. Asking his roommate to go eat somewhere was nothing new, since they were in such close proximity and it saved gas or money. However, asking her to go out for a sit down somewhere more formal was new for him, and he wasn’t sure how his offer would be interpreted or replied to. Offering to prepare a meal was a similar situation; he had prepared a quick meal for when it was needed before, but was yet to cook something exceptionally special for his roommate. Despite having finished the assembly of his weapon, Farrid cleared the chamber with a swift pump and continued to search for a possible malfunction. Without himself being aware, the Syrian driver held his breath in anticipation.

فتى محرج

Mentions: Syd Porter Pyroclast Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: None.​

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
Bailey & Farrid's Apartment, Queens, New York
July 3rd, 1971 (Morning)

Interacted: Farrid ( Inb4Cloaker )
Mentioned: Gwen ( Bellz )

​

Bailey studied Farrid's eyes, as the latter had shifted his attention from said subjects. It was indeed a pretty saber, Bailey thought, albeit in question of its purpose. The brief pause in between his reply, accompanied by a swift cast of the sealed letter had implied his discretion and reluctance to share its nature. Bailey smiled slightly, acknowledging his words. The girl chuckled lightly, with a guilty look in her eyes when Farrid had mentioned it. She veered her eyes away briefly towards the windows, pondering upon the other redheaded woman, of whom she had felt to be shaken because of the prior's eccentric attitude. There were so many other things of which she could said to salvage the situation, but perhaps time was to be given accordingly when it comes to delicate sentimental matters. She loathed herself for being unable to grasp the situation and now the cat was out of the bag. Bailey had to make amends soon, as she was quite concerned about Gwen's well-beings. Even if the latter was not a part of the syndicate directly, she was a mother. Bailey's resolve was only strengthened by her sentiments for maternal figures. Growing in a home where she had witnessed first-hand the struggles of her own mother, Bailey was quite empathetic to Gwen's cause. Perhaps because of that, the woman had been given the impression that Bailey was only pitying her, where it was quite the exact opposite. Bailey frowned slightly, as revelations of her own vices have begun to unfold before eyes. The girl sighed beneath her breath, before turning back towards Farrid when he mentioned the puddings.

"I suppose you could say that. Hehe... Don't you worry, I'm just fine and dandy. See?" Bailey chuckled lightly, as she tried to flex her biceps, if there was any in the first place.

Seeing Farrid laugh gave Bailey an alleviating feeling. That, as well as his attentive details to his weapon was more than enough to convince Bailey of his preoccupied mind. That is, in a sense, a sign of comfort for the girl. Idleness tends to awaken the darkest minds, as she herself had just woke up from a recent nightmare. On another note, it was fairly relieving for the girl to know that she woke up in her own bed. The party went well, and for most, it was an eye-opening one, discerning the guilt that followed her home. She was glad to have Farrid as a roommate. It is not everyday that one finds an ex-militant to share a room with, let alone being in the same job. Something to treasure everyday, so long as she lives. Bailey smiled beneath her attentive eyes, as she watched the man assembled his Mossberg.

Before long, Farrid's proposition to the girl had caught her by surprise. The girl twirled her soaked locks of hair in between her fingers, as she pondered upon the thought of going with Farrid out for lunch. "Somewhere nice", he said, had a certain implication of responsibility as well as indications of interests. In Bailey's mind, it was quite normal for the two to eat together, as they did several times before with takeout pizzas for stakeouts and Chinese to-gos on rainy days. But Farrid's insistence to cook had given the girl plenty to think about. Where others were to perceive such a sentence with certain implications of romantic interests to it, Bailey did not consider that in the least. Or rather, she had her interests hooked at the food part.

"Interesting proposal. Although, I must ask... What's the occasion?" Bailey raised her brow, with an impish grin on her face. While she did not mean anything by her gestures, it was her natural way of showing intrigues, while trying to decipher what Farrid had in mind.

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad​

Clicks echoed from the metallic features of his shotgun with each steady shift of his hand, filling the air between the two. The sight of Bailey flexing elicited another smile from him, and Farrid rolled his eyes playfully. The prior insurgent wasn’t perceptive enough to catch any noticeable discrepancies if the gunrunner spoke in an odd tone or manner, so he refrained from pressing the matter further. The woman had a type of behavior that both lured Assad closer and bewildered him; a combination that he can safely say he has yet to encounter in his life. Why her, of all people? He had seen the darker skinned woman at the party last night, and had found her attractive, but not in the same way he viewed Bailey. Maybe it was because he had known her for a while, and finally started to look beyond just being coworkers who sported guns in a dangerous business? Still looking away, Farrid snorted as another possibility came to mind. His always told his allies back home that a meaningful relationship was difficult to find atop a mountain of bullet casings and a sea of danger. Maybe the powers that be heard his words and finally wanted to spite him.

Having cleared his weapon for the forth time, Assad flipped it up on his shoulder casually and dragged his hand down his face. He had hoped that his implication of somewhere nice had tipped the woman off, however it did not, or she was politely trying to confirm a reason for his request. Taking in another breath, Assad resumed his normal breathing as he felt the blush on his face dissipate slightly. Without much thought, Farrid instinctively swiveled around to face the woman, regardless of his reddened features of not. Careful not to flag his roommate, the Syrian medic rode the lightning and provided his reasoning with a pinch of humor.

“OI’m askin’ ye out on a date lass.”

The shock registered on his face before his mind was able reach the same state that his body was in. His expression resembled that of someone who suddenly yelled something embarrassing while standing before a packed audience. Not only had he poked fun at her accent again, but he had deemed it necessary to ask while holding a shotgun. If he was honest with himself, though, the shotgun probably didn’t bother the gunrunner all that much, so he had that going for him. It still didn’t excuse the fact that he blurted out his intentions when he was so adamant about keeping them under wraps earlier. The point of no return had been passed for the prior insurgent, and his shoulders slumped as he committed to riding the lightning.

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t expect to ask you on a Friday night hangover with a twelve gauge in my hand, but here we are I guess.” His accent was more distinctive than usual, and the pauses in his sentence were shortened as his the tempo of his speech picked up. Farrid was nervous, but he wasn’t about to let it show in excess to Bailey, not if he could help it. Instead, he finished off his last sentence with a stifled chuckle while straightening out his attire. Assad then remembered when he criticized his friend yesterday, and how he told him that his way of approaching women was incorrect. Boy, if only he could see him now, Assad thought humorously.

“Well, I’m not really ‘taking you out somewhere nice’ if I just cook here. It’d still be a date I think, just a bootleg version of a romantic evening. I’d light some candles, but I think we’d probably have angry neighbors to deal with. Again.” Farrid continued, pacing closer to his desk before gently placing his weapon atop the counter. The medic was trying to drown out his anxiousness with humor, and while it was working to some extent, it wasn’t enough to completely negate what he was feeling. Placing both his hands along the sides of the desk, Farrid leaned over it, casting a distant gaze towards the wall as he awaited a response from the gunrunner. Giving a passing glance in her direction, the clearly unsure medic uttered the most truthful sentence that came to mind.

“I didn’t plan this out too well.”

ماذا الان؟

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: None.​

 

[Pyroclast]

Jason Costello

Gwen's anger, whilst not unfounded, was beginning to test Jason's patience. He had only been standing with her for a minute and she wasn't willing to give him a chance. His efforts to initiate a civilised conversation were quickly torched by his short fuse, and though he couldn't say he was surprised that she wasn't happy to see him, he was still annoyed that she had been so quick to snap at him.

"God, what is wrong with you? Don't tell me you actually believe that." Jason was trying not to raise his voice, but Gwen's hostile words were bringing his frustration closer to the surface. It was clear she was agitated and in shock, but her words still hurt him. "Gwen, you meant everything t'me...You were always after twistin' my words like that, tryin' to start fights wit' me. I thought you'd have changed. I remembered you so differently...You broke that illusion pretty fast."

Although he had been trying to contain his own shock, Jason was finding it harder to keep his cool. Not only was he too now agitated by her words, but the fact that, after 11 years apart, the woman he had been in love with now stood before him was bringing a familiar ache to his chest. She didn't look like her old vibrant self, but it was still her. The truth was, without ever having had a photograph of her to keep, the image of her that he had fought to preserve in his mind had faded over the years. Now, despite her slightly sickly appearance, her beauty was still striking to him - perhaps more so now than ever. He suddenly wished he hadn't told her to leave.

Jason stood firmly on the spot while Gwen took a step towards him, pointing an accusatory finger his way and spouting more venomous words. He opened his mouth to retort but she ran out of the room before he had a chance. The room fell silent, a few heads turned to stare at him. "Yeah, I'm not really American. No need to hide your surprise," he snarled, embarrassed by the attention he had just drawn to himself. Not wanting to seem like he was chasing after Gwen, Jason waited a minute longer before gathering his belongings and heading out to the nearest bar to kill some time before the callbacks were released.


When he eventually returned to the theatre to check the list, he wasn't exactly surprised to see his name on it, nor was he to see Gwen's. The judges had clearly been impressed with both of them, and so he hadn't spent the last few hours worrying about how well he had done. No, rather he had been worrying about what would happen if he and Gwen ended up working together. Until he knew, Jason had done his best to relax. But the drink in his hand didn't do much to keep his concerns under control. Although seeing his name on that list put butterflies in his stomach, his excitement was dampened by the fact that hers was too. Until one of them was taken off the shortlist, Jason knew he wouldn't be able to relax. And since they had both done so well...he couldn't be certain that that would happen. Having made it this far, he wasn't about to sabotage his own efforts to get into a Broadway show and certainly wouldn't dare try to sabotage hers.

Sitting in the auditorium among the few others that had been called back for the lead roles, Jason couldn't help but feel like the universe had it in for him. On the one hand he had been incredibly fortunate, but of course it had come at a price. Nothing could ever just be easy. When Gwen's name was called, Jason kept his eyes on the ceiling, hoping against everything that he wouldn't be paired with her, but somehow knowing he would be. Of course, the inevitable happened, as he had pessimistically predicted, and he soon found himself back on the stage, face to face with the woman who had been shouting at him just a few hours ago.

The look on Gwen's face said it all; she couldn't even meet his eye and looked worryingly ill, more so than she had before. With their professional eye for emotion and facial expression, Jason couldn't quite believe that the judges were apparently unable to detect what was going on between them. She looked so miserable that he very nearly said something, but everyone was keen to start and he decided in the end that it wouldn't hurt to give the scene a shot. After a brief glance to the script to read the descriptions, Jason tossed it to one side - it was easier for him to act when he wasn't held back by anything.

Gwen was prepared for the scene, but scripts were still given to the pair before they were set to start. Looking over the first, her eyes roamed the page until they stopped on one specific note in particular. Sally kisses Cliff. The woman was turning paler by the minute, feeling trapped again. There was no turning back, no running out the door. He could get on her nerves but just as he said, she was not going to let him stand in the way of her dreams. Pulling a brave face, the judges looked between the pair, before one of the men cleared his throat to read the introduction to the scene.

'It is rather dark in Cliff's room, Sally is sitting alone, drinking. A bottle of gin nearby. Cliff enters, opening a letter.'

“I got the letter...all seven pages.” Back in his American accent, Jason’s pace slowed as he approached Gwen. “Are you alright? ...Sally?” His tone was of concern, which was not at all hard to put on with the woman before him looking like she was. Part of him was hoping for an answer, but for that he would have to wait until they were both backstage again. That is, if she would even talk to him.

Interactions
Bellz Gwen

 

[Bellz]

Gwen Bryant​

As soon as those words escaped him, Gwen was in character, sighing softly and looking towards the stage right. She didn't turn to see Jason enter from stage left, instead continuing to keep a melancholy face as he spoke his lines,


She responds, nodding her head slowly, letting the script fall to her side, she knew she didn't need it, "I'm just not speaking today..."


Eyebrows raised, Jason nodded and began to turn away from her, pretending to open what would be the letter. “My mother says: ‘Tell Sally to lay off the gin.’”


Gasping in exasperation, Gwen turns her head, feigning shock and reaching to grab the letter from his hand, "She does not!"


Jason stifled laughter and pulled the letter further from her reach while simultaneously reaching into the envelope. “And here’s the check!”


Jason pretends to pull out a check, and Gwen claps her hands together gleefully, "Hurray!! Fifty dollars? How much is that in real money?" The eagerness in her eyes was believable and she was sure nobody would believe what they had just done in the green room.


“More than enough to pay the rent.” There was warmth in the way he looked at her, a hopeful smile on his face.


Gwen nods her head as Jason speaks his line, Cliff explaining that it was enough to pay rent. The redhead clasps her hands together and takes a few steps closer to Jason, eyes looking at him with hope, "And dinner at the Adlon? With a bottle of champagne ? Oh Cliff!" The woman hesitated only slightly before wrapping her arms around Jason, who perfectly acted like she was out of her mind. Well it probably wasn’t acting.


"Maybe a glass of champagne?" He agreed and Gwen looked into his eyes a moment. There was a beat of silence that was clearly not suppose to be there, but somehow, it was natural for the pair. Taking a breath, she leaned in and kissed him, pulling him close to her by his shirt before releasing him.


“Alright.” The kiss, while expected, had got to him. Jason had to tell himself that it wasn’t Gwen kissing him, it was Sally Bowles kissing Clifford Bradshaw. But the feel of her lips against his brought a sudden rush of emotion to him, almost to the surface. It came through in the way he delivered his line, but it turned out to be perfectly appropriate.


Wasting no time, she tilted her head, delivering her next line, "Why so gloomy?" She paused again, “Because we never have dinner at the Adlon any more?”

“Cut!” The director called out to them, standing up and walking up to the stage. “I like what you’re bringing to the characters, I do. But I want to see more. You two seem to have a natural energy between you - I want you to take that spark and put it into your delivery. Dig deeper.” Jason moved back towards stage left and picked up the script he had dropped, avoiding Gwen’s gaze the whole time. He didn’t really know how to respond to the fact that the director had finally picked up on their chemistry. “So let’s move on a bit further...Take it from line 31. So Sally, you’ll be picking up your suitcase and beginning to leave the room. Okay, take your places!”


After a quick glance to find the line she meant, Jason again put his script out of sight. Watching Gwen walk away from him, he ‘dug deep’ as the director had suggested and summoned an old memory. “Don’t go,” he spoke, a hint of desperation in his tone.

Her footsteps were quick and deliberate but when she was asked not to go, Gwen paused much like Sally would. Her back was to him as she asked, ”What?” The desperation in his tone was all too familiar to her but instead of grating on her very last nerve, it made her heart constrict tightly in her chest. Turning around slowly, she looked at Jason with a bit of disbelief.


Straightening up, Jason locked eyes with Gwen. “Please...don’t go.”


”A-are you serious?” She sounded winded, clearly confused both in character and out. The words were just too real, he was saying everything she had wanted to hear in the past. For a moment, she couldn’t help but envy the fact that she couldn’t have her own version of Clifford Bradshaw...but that was just a fantasy.


“The hell with Bobby. Maybe - maybe I like you here. I need you. I need -” Jason swallowed, not even realising that he had taken a few steps closer to her. It suddenly felt a bit too real. Gazing into her eyes, he almost forgot his line - but the pause only added to the effect. Straightening up, he went on: “The truth is, Sally, when you’re out all night...I can’t sleep. Our little bed suddenly seems so empty.” A vivid memory returned to him as he painted the picture in his mind through the lines of the script: waking up in an empty bed, no trace left but a single note on his dresser… Taken aback by the memory, his voice weakened slightly. But again, it only added to the effect. “I’ve - I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. Anyone at all.”

"You truly mean this? Gwen's voice was full of apprehension, a feeling similar to one she had felt in the past filling her lungs, knocking the air from them. She knew what the next line was, why couldn't he speak to her like that when they were together...if she truly meant everything to him.


“More than I’ve ever meant anything.”


A brief pause fell between them before the director called out, “Cut!” once again. “That...was what I was looking for from you, Jason. You two, I can tell…” But she trailed off, perhaps not wanting to instill too much hope in either of the auditionees before allowing the others to give the scene a go. Jason didn’t look at her - his eyes were on Gwen. It took a few seconds before he was able to break his gaze, and he turned away from her. Once called off stage, Jason sent a nod towards the director and without further hesitation, began to make his way back to the green room.


Gwen jumped slightly as the director called cut, her wide brown eyes turned to look at the woman as she clarified what she had been looking for. She was about to say more, but trailed off, leaving the pair in silence. Feeling eyes on her, Gwen turned back to Jason, only to see him staring at her. Unable to look away herself, they simply watched each other before he broke the gaze first. Being called off stage, Jason headed back first, leaving Gwen to stare out into the audience at her daughter in the front row.

Wondering what Lorelei thought about all that, Gwen exited as well, taking her time as she headed back to the green room, it was clear that something was different about her when she entered. ”That was...you were...good.” Clearing her throat, she looked away from him, ”Nice job.”
with: Jason Pyroclast

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
Bailey & Farrid's Apartment, Queens, New York
July 3rd, 1971 (Morning)

Interacted: Farrid ( Inb4Cloaker )
Mentioned: N/A

​

Bailey's eyes widened at the honest man's reply, perplexed by his earnest words. Her roommate blatant words conveyed, and his averted eyes only furthered the awkwardness between the two as time fleeted by. Ever since her arrival in New York, this was perhaps one of the first time someone had asked her out on a date in the most straightforward way, of which had taken no guise of concealed pretenses. Although shocked initially, the southern girl would abide by Farrid's less-than-delicate way to go about it, with a slight smile. While it was out of the blue, and not so smooth, Bailey had appreciated his sincere approach. From the way the Syrian had attempted to emulate her southern dialect, to the way he was working his shotgun, she could tell that the man was as anxious as she was. It was almost as if the histories of the duo had been thrown aback to be reevaluated by a simple lunch proposal. Nevertheless, Bailey was quite elated to hear it from him, as she herself, had needed a distraction from her internal troubles. Perhaps this was a chance to go about, should she take the leap of faith.

Bailey chuckled lightly, with no words to offer. Instead, she studied Farrid's anxious state of mind via his busy hands and roaming eyes. She was thrown aback by his curly hair and attentive posture of a former fighter. Where their jokes and sarcasms were a part of a daily routine for the two, they had served to omit the two's personal scrutiny of themselves - until now. To Bailey, Farrid is a good friend, of whom have had his fair share of troubles. Her gray eyes wandered off, as she reflected upon her own pasts. She pondered upon her worthiness of being a candidate for such a situation. Bailey had never thought of pursuing her own romances. Even if she had, she knew it would not end well, given her past and profession. But to her and Farrid, the predicament was far from their workplace's dilemmas. The man was simply asking out of his heart. Bailey acknowledged this, as well as his courage - something she knew that she had lacked. She will figure something out, Bailey thought, as what was a brief pause in between Farrid's sentences had reached out to her as well. Her cheeks were dyed red, and her firm grip found its grasps within the confines of her dress. Bailey found it hard to breathe, as her heart raced faster than before. This time, it was something else, never minding the whiskey shot that she had gulped down before getting out of bed. Before long, the silent truce between the two was broken yet again.

"... well... " Bailey paused, as she made her way past Farrid's door and into his room. She took the leap.

"... I- I... w-would be more than happy to go out for lunch with ya. Even without the candles." she continued, diverting her eyes briefly.

The girl tapped on Farrid's desk lightly, as her way of coping with the situation. What was once a tomboyish and eccentric gunrunner was now a baffled young girl that stood before Farrid. At work, she usually put up her facade of a confident auditor, of whom had treated everything else as numbers on a spreadsheet. But when it came to romantic interests, she was as green as a winter's batch of peas. There was no aid for her cause of being an inexperienced personnel.

"I'm going to fetch something decent..." she said, with her hair falling past her eyes, concealing her flushed visage. Bailey did a roundabout turn and made her egress quickly. She paused by the doorframe, and diverted her gaze towards Farrid.

"... maybe I should get something to fit with your Mossberg for our date?" she smiled, pointing at his scattergun.

She wanted to slap herself a bunch, as she made her exit towards her room. What was that? She thought. Bailey contemplated her lines, shortly after she left. While it was a jest to help her cope with the scene, the gunrunner would have gone better with a more elegant line to concede with Farrid's propositions. But she has yet to give up on her personality, and she was content with it. Perhaps Farrid would not want it to get anymore awkward than it was now, like her. Bailey's door shut behind her, as she threw herself onto her bed. Her arms wrapped around her pillow, squeezing it tightly. What is this feeling? Why does she feel dizzy and flushed? Bailey sighed audibly, as she tried to catch her breath. She was clueless when it comes this, despite being able to deflect most social callings at work. This time, it was different, as she had seen in Farrid's eyes and postures. She neither had the intention of letting the man on, nor did she planned this. Yet here she is, being caught in it all. There were many things the two have yet to share amongst one another. But in it, Farrid and Bailey have had a common understanding of their own personal worlds. Perhaps if she was a man, it would all be so much simpler, Bailey thought, but each world has its own nightmares. The girl put on a pouted face, as she threw her pillow across the room, all the while throwing punches against her mattress.

"...Dagnabbit! This feeling is like a needle in my haystack..." Bailey muttered under her breath.

"... yet. It feels... pleasant." she whispered, as she firmly grasped her blanket.

The room grew silence for a couple of minutes, before a light turn of Bailey's doorknob had unveiled a mysterious figure. Hair long red hair flowed from her snow-white face, as she donned her summer dress with a few embellishment to address her frequent preferences. A few white ribbons to secure her waistline, as well as a pair of black pumps to finish. While the girl was not one for jewelry, she had found it sufficient to have a pair of miniature ear cuffs. There was a certain shine to her, as a whole, discerning her choice of silver earrings and emboldened makeup. They were simply going out for a bite, but Bailey cannot help but try to look her best. Perhaps it was in vain and would otherwise look unnatural? The Texan thought, as she turned towards the wall and slammed it lightly with both her hands, as if a teenager throwing a tantrum. It didn't take long for her to be noticed by her roommate. One thing was certain for her, and perhaps Farrid as well - everything was about to change. Everything has changed. As the midday light enlightened the living room, Bailey shyly eyed Farrid, as she held onto her purse with a tight grip. But then it caught her attention. Did Farrid mentioned lunch? Or did he meant later in the evening? Bailey froze where she stood. As helpless as she was in preparing for their little date, Bailey had failed to inquire the time for their date. She was as red as a ripe apple, and as clumsy as she could ever be.

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad​

Maintaining a deliberate stare, the medic found it increasingly difficult to not look over towards the person in question. Farrid had felt this kind of anxiety in other situations before, why was it that he couldn’t tolerate it now? Answering his own question with another, Assad asked himself if it would make sense to compare asking the gunrunner out on a date to defusing a bomb or evading gunfire. In any other situation, he would’ve laughed at the mental comparison, but not now. Noises were amplified all around him, and the Syrian driver could’ve sworn that his heartbeat was loud enough to be heard from across his room. As the silence continued to hammer down on Farrid’s resolve, the prior insurgent let out a sigh of acceptance. He didn’t know how he expected this to go, but he hoped that this situation would iron itself out should the gunrunner object to his offer. He appreciated the woman, and didn’t want something such as spontaneous actions from the medic to ruin the friendship they already established. Building a stronger foundation means tearing down the old one sometimes, unfortunately for Farrid, he was not an architect.

Refocusing his gaze on the woman as she approached, the medic gradually allowed his body to break from the hunched position he was in. Doing his best to stand tall again, the prior insurgent readied himself at the sound of her first word, but was quickly disarmed when she confirmed wanting to go out for a date. Widening his eyes momentarily, he took note of her hesitation, but thought little of it in that moment. To say he was surprised by her response would be an understatement, and it was all the medic could do to not ask her to reconfirm what she just said. As though she was matching Farrid’s own first unsure initiative, her aversion of eye contact did well to convince that she may very well be in the same boat when it came to romance. Before he could snap out of his trance and formulate an adequate response, she had already begun to retreat from his presence. The comment about his weapon and changing attire was the last he heard from her, along with the sight of her vibrant red hair. Unable to move, his still reeling state was soon replaced by relief, doubled anxiety, and a hint of joy.

“Yeah, I’ll do the same...” He said, long after she had entered her own room and closed the door. Pushing off his desk, the prior insurgent took an unsteady step back before falling ungracefully into his chair.

Resting a palm on his forehead, Assad took a deep breath in a futile effort to calm himself. Well, he had acted on his emotions and, theoretically, got the response he had longed for. Why was it that he wasn’t elated? Internally, he felt like a weight had been moved off of his shoulders, and was happy that she accepted his request. Still, the prior insurgent couldn’t help but reanalyze every second of his last conversation with the woman, and what he could’ve possibly done differently. Perhaps the greatest emotion he held was doubt, and it was insurmountable. Her hesitant manner may have been nervousness, but it also may have been a reflection of her not knowing how to decline him. Analyzing her tone in a way similar to that of a commander surveying land before a battle was unfair, and he was aware of this, but he couldn’t help it. Assad was a scarred figure from a war torn country, knew very little about dating, and was unsure of his own actions; it would be ridiculous to assume that everything would go smoothly. Cursing himself under his breath, the medic backhanded the desk beside him before promptly wincing from his poor choice. There was little he could do about the situation now, since it would be out of his control until the evening drew near.

“Oh. Wait.” Farrid had been so caught up in his own troubles that he almost forgot what Bailey said. Dinner was the subject he had in mind, but she was considering lunch. Double taking at his closet, the medic could’ve just told her that he meant later tonight, but he would be damned if he made the situation any more awkward or worse. Springing to his feet, Assad lunged for his closet and swung the door open. Lunch it was.

By the time Bailey had emerged from her room, Assad had rushed himself through donning a more appropriate set of clothing. Cargo pants were swapped for black slacks, boots were traded for a pair of leather shoes, and his brown rolled button up was switched by a more presentable white variant of its type. Cuffs undone and a black tie hung over his shoulders, yet to be tightened or structured. Farrid would’ve been unaware of the gunrunners presence had she not hit the wall, albeit lightly. The sound was enough to draw his attention, and he arched his back to peek out around the corner. Sure enough, she was standing there and appeared a bit more anxious than he would’ve predicted. He could gather that she was nervous, but didn’t imagine it would rival his own anxiety. The view of her stunned the Syrian driver, and he quietly slipped out of his room despite his disorganized tie and parted cuffs.

He wanted to compliment her appearance, or fix his own appearance, but was unable to rationalize beyond the need to question the woman’s feelings. Her pounding on the wall conveyed her own uncertainty, and it was enough to persuade him to inquire about it. Hands finding their way into his pockets, Farrid leaned against the doorway to his room before speaking.

“You know we don’t have to go out on a date if you don’t want to, right? This is abrupt, I know, and I definitely could’ve pulled this off better, but...” Farrid trailed off, searching the ground for an answer as he struggled to think of something to say, yet all he could find were more of the same or questions. Was this right? What should he tell her? What does he want want for himself? What does he want?

“... I want this to work.” Assad said, barely above whisper. Gazing back up at Bailey, he met her eyes with his own as he let loose a shaky sigh. “I’ve made mistakes in my life, and I ask myself if I could’ve done something different to correct them. Some of them are insignificant, but others haunt me. Staying where we are won’t scare me, but bottling up my feelings or making you uncomfortable will, and it’ll be another thing that haunts me; I don’t want that.”

Shifting his gaze from her face to the flag behind him, Assad realized that he had addressed his nightmares indirectly. It was the truth, though; he didn’t want her to haunt him. Like before, he committed to drowning his own feelings before pursuing something his roommate didn’t desire. Hesitantly, he continued.

“I don’t want to make you upset. I just... have to tell you. You make me happy when I’m having my worst moments, and you may not want to admit it, but you’re great. All the time we spend around each other, whether it be during work or something else, are some of the best memories I have in this place, and I feel like I want more. I think of you during some nights when I can’t sleep, and sometimes, it pushes my past away.” Farrid wasn’t sure if his words were the correct ones to choose, and he refused to look back over at the woman. Readjusting his position on the doorframe, the medic glanced down at his shoes as he reviewed what he was uttering. Each phrase came from a source that he had long repressed, and he was finally conveying his feelings into words.

“Hell, I guess you already haunt me.” He finished, shaking his head in disbelief. Farrid wanted to slam his door close and vanish before he could be subject to her response, but his slouched stance was locked against the wooden frame, unable to move.

ماذا الان؟

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: None.​

 

[Misty Gray]

Emery Callahan​

The front door of the Callahan house slammed shut. The loud noise echoed through the house and was then followed by a slightly quieter sound that matched Emery's voice. "Shit. Sorry..." the redhead said, having not actually intended on making such an entrance during her rush inside her home. "DAAAAD?!" she shouted out as she walked along the hallway. Walking via the kitchen, she couldn't help but laugh to herself as she saw plenty of sandwiches on the counter still waiting to be eaten. For a woman who ate very little, Sinead always managed to make too much food for everyone else. Had the girl not already eaten at her friend's house, she would have happily scoffed one of her mother's tasty sandwiches.

Emery eventually found Peter and rushed over to him with a bright smile on her face. "I'm glad you're still home. Katie's mum and dad are having car trouble, so my lift to work fell through and I really should be on my way to the city by now. I couldn't possibly be late for my first shift. I hear the manager at the jazz club can be a real you-know-what!" she joked, obviously referring to Sinead. "Would you be able to give me a lift, Dad?" she sweetly asked. " Please?" she added, lightly nudging his arm.


Bellz (Peter)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Spoiler: Trigger Warning

Heavy mention of death, loss, caregiving and grief

Although Maddox's office was arguably the most appropriate place for Syd to unload his emotions, he was still slightly taken aback by how quickly he had let himself spiral out of control. In the 9 years that he had been without her, of course he had adjusted. Life was completely different now, and there was very little that jumped out to remind him of her save for the memories that he shared with his family. Time had healed him to an extent and to be able to talk about her without getting too emotional was a step forward he had already made long ago. However, sometimes the sadness came over him as an unstoppable tidal wave, provoked by some problem - the problem in this case being that Roxie had made him reflect on the lack of romance in his life - and he just had to ride it out. At least by now, he knew of ways to cope with it; he just had to remember what to do when it happened.

Once he had composed himself, Syd opened his eyes, still gazing vacantly at the floor between himself and his counsellor. Maddox gave an observation then, of how he had helped Skye and the appreciation for freedom that the two of them had shared, having both spent years of their lives in abusive orphanages. When asked whether he felt trapped by his grief, Syd looked up and made eye contact with the man. He didn't like the word 'trapped', only because he wished he could say he wasn't. But when he couldn't think of a better way to describe it, he sighed in defeat. "'Trapped' sounds so negative, Dr. Parker." Syd paused, biting down on his lip for a second. "I just love her. I love her so much. Maybe that's the reason I can't move on, but I can't see myself ever not loving her, so..." This time his despair came out in the form of laughter. "I just wish I didn't have to move on to move on, you know?"

Even though the topic of Skye had dominated his thoughts for several years, it always seemed to create more underlying issues as he went through life, to which he was often blind. Syd's smile faded and the distant sadness returned to his eyes. Finally moving to take a sip from his glass of water, he listened as Maddox went on to tell him that it was indeed possible to love another whilst still honouring his love for Skye. At first Syd frowned, unable to understand how this could possibly be true. But his expression soon softened as he let a sliver of hope embed itself in him. No one had ever told him this before - maybe there was some truth in it. After all, Maddox wasn't often wrong. Before he could think of a way to respond, however, his counsellor reframed his earlier question and asked him what he would want Skye to do if their positions were reversed. Syd leaned back against the couch, staring at the man with a faint smile on his face. "Of course I'd want her to be happy. I wouldn't want anything else for her." Picturing the love of his life living out her days with somebody else was difficult, but picturing her alone was even harder. "Of course I'd want her to be happy..." he repeated, his voice nearing a whisper as he came to realise what the man had done. He grimaced lightly as the reality set in again and put everything back into perspective: Skye was the one who was dead and alone, and it was he who had to work out how to navigate life without her. Drawing a smile from nowhere, he continued, "She never liked seeing me unhappy. I was scared of being honest about how I felt when I was looking after her. I didn't like talking about death with her. I didn't like getting upset around her, or frustrated or angry or impatient. I didn't want to admit how hard it was for me to look after her and watch her get worse, but I'm sure she knew. It was easier to hold myself together around her than it was around anyone else, though, because...well, we didn't know how short her future was going to be - I just wanted her to enjoy our time together. It didn't have to be more depressing than it already was, you know? I was trying to make the most of my time with her, so even though it was hard, there were still lots of happy moments. Right up until the end. And - and I think that made a huge difference."

At some point, Syd's hands had come together in his lap and, once again, he had gone back to gently stroking his wedding ring. The faint smile remained on his face as he gazed into the space between him and Maddox, not even aware of the single tear that fell down his cheek. "Finding the time to be happy with her was important - for both of us. But I can't be happy with her anymore, can I?" Having somewhat lost himself in the moment, it came as a genuine question. "If I want to be happy, I have to do it without her, now. And she knows that...she must do. She would never trap me on purpose. She doesn't have a single bit of selfishness in her." With a distant yet tender look in his eyes, Syd turned his attention back to Maddox and exhaled. "But where is it?" he dared to ask, shaking his head slightly. Perhaps he had just dived a little too deep into the past, but when he tried to bring himself back into the present, part of his mind must have been left behind - for now, beneath the soft expression on his face, there lay a slightly unhinged look. "Not with Roxie - she's already fucking the lawyer." Syd laughed lightly and tilted his head back, his gaze drifting between the serene paintings on the walls. "And he's probably got the whole not-a-widower thing going for him, so I guess she made a wise choice there, right?" It wasn't funny - deep down he didn't find it funny at all - but he was laughing anyway.

Interactions
Misty Gray Maddox

Bellz Roxie (mentioned)
RayPurchase Mitch (mentioned)

 

[Misty Gray]

Maddox Parker​

It could have looked as though Maddox had taken a risk by reversing his question to ask what Syd would have wanted for Skye if she had been the one left widowed. However, by now the counsellor knew enough about the kind of person Skye had been and he trusted his assessment of Syd that had brought him to believe the younger man would only want her to be happy. His "risk" paid off as it caused Syd to consider the question and realise Skye would have wanted him to be happy too, even if it meant moving on.

"You gave your wife everything she needed in her last months of life. I suspect your love and strength wouldn't have gone unnoticed." Maddox glanced to the books that lined one of the shelves before looking back to Syd and briefly nodding. "I believe you wouldn't be doing Skye a disservice by moving on. It wouldn't be dishonouring her memory or replacing the love you both shared. That will always be a part of you. From what you have told me of your relationship and of your wife, she would have wanted you to be happy." It wasn't often Maddox shared his own opinion on such a personal subject, not with a client. But at the same time, the textbooks only had limited value. None of the books, journals and previous case studies told Syd's story. There was no script and no approach previously tailored to the needs of the individual seated before him. "What does remain is for us to work together to help you consider which direction you wish to take your personal life in now."

Maddox sent Syd a faint, reassuring smile as he spoke up to acknowledge that he would have to be happy without Skye, even stating his late wife wouldn't be selfish enough to stop him from moving on. Although he knew it wasn't always so simple and emotions could cause a relapse very quickly, Maddox still felt Syd's words reflected progress and that was a step in the right direction The subject soon turned back to Roxie; someone Syd had only met the night before but the manner she'd been spoken of certainly made it appear the woman had left her mark on him. Maddox couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow when he heard the man's words about her "fucking the lawyer" and accompanied by a severe change in expression. Roxie was clearly more significant than Syd had first suggested and there was potentially a feeling of jealousy behind his harsh words.

It was tempting for Maddox to make a joke about the fragile integrity of lawyers, but even with Syd's laughter, it would be far from appropriate. It had been the first time "the lawyer" had been mentioned, but the counsellor chose to roll with it. "You've told me last night was the first time you'd met Roxie, but would you say she's left a lasting impression on you?" he asked. "Given she lives with your cousin and you've pointed out you're likely to see her again, this may also open up the opportunity for you to build bridges and perhaps allow Roxie to make a more informed choice about you." Maddox sat back a little as he tried to untangle the added complication that had now been thrown into the situation. "And what do you know about the lawyer? Do you think they're already in a relationship with each other or is the 'fucking' just a casual thing?" he asked. Whether Syd was chasing a woman already in a relationship or not wasn't for Maddox to judge him on. All he could do was prompt him to consider the effects such complications could have on his own recovery.

Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[RayPurchase]

Mitchell Van Gerwen


Quite simply the car journey had whizzed by. The conversation was easy, the company was pleasant, both to listen to and on the eye. He took a brief look away from the road towards Roxie as they took the turning towards Lexington. She was beautiful she was funny, part of him couldn’t help but feel that this was some sort of mistake, taking pity on him maybe, I mean she's stunning, she's funny, she's intelligent. If college had taught him anything she belonged with a proper jock or a clichéd ‘bad boy", and he was neither of those things, yeah he jogged but he hadn’t taken to a football field in over 10 years, not willingly anyway, and he was a lawyer for goodness sake, the very epitome of a by the book guy. But his smile remained. The positive vibes he was getting smothering his normally chatty and near self sabotaging self conscious.

“Ah a fellow Upper East Sider, where all the best people are from I hear. I’m over in Yorkville, we’re practically neighbours?”

He pulls in next to the parking machine, giving it a nudge with his elbow as if that would somehow rectify the issue. He chuckled and shook his head.

“Well if someone tries to slap a ticket on me, I’ll let you sort them out, sounds like you scare the hell out of them,”

He followed her upstairs, the grin still plastered on his features as they entered her apartment. Met her yesterday, lunch today and you’ve already made it to her apartment, I mean that’s two stages further than the last broad he'd met. He let out a low whistle as he looked around the apartment. Now this was fun, admittedly his own apartment was a bit more, well let’s not beat around the bush, boring. But this was fun and welcoming, the afternoon glinting off of the light blue walls, almost like the sun glinting of the waves. He would have kept at the opportunity to. However any thoughts of exploring sort of swept out of his mind as Roxie gave him a kiss on the cheek. Immediately a rush of endorphins surged from his system and he was only just about able to give a nod and return the wink. As she near enough skipped off to her room, he took a seat on one of the armchairs, his cheeks reddening. He hurriedly removed his equally red tie, folding it and stashing it in his blazer pocket, trying to at least look a little more casual with what he had. He grin was now very much stuck on his face, almost childlike in glee, pull yourself together, it was a god damn kiss on the cheek... his grin remained unflattering however, his cheek still warn to the touch.

He looked up as he door opened and she walked in. He let out a low whistle in response.

“You’re still scoring 10s from me. And I’d say you look just about ready for lunch. Dealer's choice, it's your area, what’s the best place to go?”

(Interaction: Bellz Roxie)

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Syd's laughter died as soon as Maddox asked him whether Roxie had left a lasting impression on him. Rubbing at his eyes, he took a deep breath as he pondered the way the woman had made him feel. He had never thought of himself as the kind of person who could be so easily affected by a woman. Yet here he was, bringing her name into his counselling session the very next day after their first meeting. Once brought to his attention, Syd realised that he had hardly stopped thinking about her since their first conversation. "No," he tittered, though he wasn't exactly being honest. "She just - it's just been a while, okay? Since a woman that beautiful came and spoke to me like that. And...since I spoke to a woman the way I did to her. Roxie isn't just an attractive woman, she represents the whole problem, see, that I have with...with attractive women in general." Losing track of his sentence, Syd's cheeks turned slightly red and he let his gaze drop to his hands. "It's not about her." Even though Maddox's question had lead Syd to internally address his feelings towards Roxie for the first time, he still refused to acknowledge the extent to which the frustration he felt was indeed about her. It was true that the problem spanned beyond her, but his defensive side was preventing him from admitting even to himself that she had left a more personal impression on him.

After further deliberation, Syd sighed. "But I guess...you gotta start somewhere, right? To practice talking to attractive women, I mean? Maybe Roxie could be my starting point. You're right, Sav'll probably end up hearing everything from her anyway. Plus, I'd really hate for her to turn my own cousin against me. I just gotta get past that Mitch guy first." Syd's eyes narrowed as he pictured the lawyer's face. Not often finding himself directly involved in legal issues, he hadn't got to know Mitch too well, so whatever short interactions they had had in the past had now been overwritten by the incident at the party and the brief conversation they had had earlier on that day.

As though reading his thoughts - which probably wasn't too hard, given the sour expression on his face - Maddox prompted him with a question about the lawyer, and how close Syd thought the man might be to Roxie already. Syd's jaw tightened, the jealousy shining like fire in his eyes. "I don't know," he spoke through gritted teeth. "I doubt they're in a relationship, because the way she was leaning over the bar when she spoke to me...No, I don't think so. And he might have hit me too after I spilled my drink on her, which he didn't. Though he might also be too bloody nice for that. Or he just doesn't have the balls." Syd smirked, but quickly wiped it from his face, realising he might be coming across as rather immature. Not wanting to lead the counsellor down the wrong path, he admitted, "I guess I'm talking about eye-fucking, here. Going on flirty little smiles, like. But I did leave them home alone in my parents house when I left to come here, and with the obvious spark of chemistry between them I've no doubt they could've -" Before he could put his disturbing mental images into words, Syd decided it perhaps wasn't necessary and instead held his tongue. He didn't want to think about which room, which bed, which sofa - and he doubted Maddox would understand Syd's point clearly enough without the imagery. Bringing a hand to his head, he shielded his eyes in slight shame of his jealous outburst. "Anyway, Mitch is no real threat. He's just some...loser. Nothing to worry about." Syd inhaled sharply as he brought his arm back down to the armchair and looked back to Maddox. "Not that I'm trying to get between them, whatever they are - like I said, it's not about Roxie, it's about women in general - but I would like to make amends with her properly, I guess."

Thinking back to the counsellor's offer to help him work out a direction to take in his personal life, Syd thought back to their mention of Skye and how she would want him to move on. "I think it would be good to take that step, you know, if someday I'm going to be happy with...someone else. I'm not saying that's definitely gonna happen, but - I mean, I never expected to be alone at 30, you know?" He sent Maddox a melancholy smile, but there was at least a degree of hope in it.

Interactions
Misty Gray Maddox

Bellz Roxie (mentioned)
RayPurchase Mitch (mentioned)

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

Aliana Cartwright
Leo Sullivan

The smile on Leo's face never went away as he looked up at his dad. Even though he was in prison and this was the only way he would ever be able to see him, Conor still made an effort to be there for him and that was all he needed. If he were to ever hold any resentment, it would more than likely be for his mother due to the fact she never made an effort to see Conor. Sometimes these thoughts went through the young boy's mind but he'd push them away. If it had nothing to do with fun or his pets, he wasn't in the business of thinking about it. "Aw geez. There were not any cute girls at that party, dad. Just Thomas and Lorelei. Mom's taking me to the beach soon so maybe." He shrugged his shoulders slowly, giving his father a cheeky grin. Ali playfully pushed the side of Leo's head. "Hey. Not something you should be focusing on, kid." Leo waved his mother off before turning back to Conor. "Anyway, I've taught Charlie how to swim so now he hangs out in the fish bowl with Charlie." He said, referring to the hamster in fish. Ali could only shake her head, grateful for the distraction that was Leo. On the inside, she was dreading being here, actually regretting telling Sinead she would. A part of her felt guilty, often thinking, 'How dare you come here? Not to check on Conor or save your marriage, but to help someone else save theirs?' She started to get antsy and tapped her finger against the table, her bracelet making a soft noise.

When he turned to address her, she shook her head. "Mom is fine; she had business of her own to attend and we promised Leo his visit so..." She trailed off, gesturing to the room they were sitting in. "Here we are." She found it difficult to look him in the eye, often looking off to the side. When she did look at him, briefly, she took in how rugged and hardened his features made him. Maybe the same thing happened to Peter and that's why he can be so cold to Sinead now, she thought to herself. "Yeah! Mom says promises are binding which means you can't break them and if you do you go to hell." Aliana pinched the bridge of her nose before looking at her son. "I did not say that. I said if you break them, you're an awful person." To which Leo replies, "Well yeah but awful people go to hell don't they? So really if you break a promise you go to hell." Ali pointed her finger at Leo then looked to Conor, longer than she had the first few minutes of being there. "This is the shit I put up with. He does this to me all day everyday." She said with a small smile before playing in his hair. It started to fade when she realized she was procrastinating in telling him why she was here.

With a deep sigh, she turned to him. "I'm not just here to bring the kid... I need a.... Favor." The word was difficult to get out of her mouth, considering she hadn't visited him in years and now here she was visiting him for someone else. To keep Leo in the dark, she started speaking in code. "I have a friend who is going through some shit.... And to be honest, a lot stems from her husband being in prison so much... I guess, I need to know what happened so she can better know why he's like this." She hoped he would understand she was speaking about Peter and Sinead, as she continued to avoid his gaze.

Conor ( Misty Gray )
​

 

[Bellz]

Lucy Porter
​

The Detective explained what was being done with the investigation but Lucy still wasn't satisfied...the police could only do so much and in all honesty, she was sure her family would be able to get to the bottom of it quicker. Time was of the essence if Arlene was in danger and Lucy would waste no time telling James as soon as she could. His question about Arlene possibly choosing to disappear was something that could have been a possibility...but she had more faith in the woman than that. She loved Olivia very much, why would she leave her behind? Maybe because she knew she was in danger...

"I'm sorry, I really wish I could give you proper information. But all I know is I saw her some time ago, and she seemed fine. Nothing was explained or told to me that could have predicted her disappearing. Anything further you wish to know, I would have to say I'm not too keen on speaking without my lawyer present." The blonde gave the detective a look that would show she wasn't going to change her mind. "Now I feel like that little girl in the other room has stayed in this station long enough...Let me get her home with family, where she belongs. I can come in for further questioning if needed sometime next week."

As much as she didn't want to have to do that with Mitch present, she knew that it might have to be done to get the police off their backs. Arlene could have been in any kind of mess, and the police involvement could possibly make things worse. This Patrick Dawson seemed like he needed to be found and questioned first, not sitting here questioning family.

"Now is there anything more that I can help you with Detective Smithson or can I get my children home now?"

***
Thomas Porter​

Thomas hummed softly in thought as Olivia asked what they should play, "Well, what can we do in here....?" He looked around, noting that there was a lot of eyes around them, with a lot of windows. He knew his mother wouldn't want them to be too rowdy so Thomas decided on a simple game, "We could play I spy!" He cheered lightly before once again looking around the room, "I'll start..."

He couldn't make up his mind at first but finally he decided on a green filing cabinet in the corner of the room. "I spy with my little eye, something green!"


with: Detective Smithson / Olivia Misty Gray

 

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan
​

Peter had heard his daughter's voice from downstairs after unsuccessfully finding Braden and he jogged down to see what she wanted, "Hi Emmy," He greeted her as she expressed that she was glad he was still home. He listened as she explained that her friends parent's were having trouble with their car, so her ride fell through for work. Peter wasn't sure why his daughter hadn't come to him for a ride in the first place, he knew she was at her friends, but it was still something that was puzzling to him.

Her joke about Sinead caused him to snort before he nodded his head, "I got nothin' better to do darling. Let's go before you get the lecture of a lifetime." On their way out, he was quick to grab two sandwiches that Sinead had mentioned. Once in the car, he managed to polish off one sandwich before even getting in and the other was in his free hand as he drove out of the driveway and down the long street that lead out of their little neighborhood.

Dialing the radio to a local rock station he knew Emery would like, he himself would have to admit that the tunes the kids were into nowadays was pretty great. Rock n roll had come a long way since the beginning and he only saw it going up from there. One song he knew well came on the radio and he started to hum as he polished off his other sandwich.

Looking to Emery, he reached out to place a strand of hair behind her ear, singing:"Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be. There's a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly. Why she had to go, I don't know...She wouldn't say. I said something wrong, Now I long for yesterday...yesterday.

The word's were all too real to him the more he thought about it, which is why after a few verses, he trailed off...turning the radio down slightly as he cleared his throat. "The Beatles got me through a lot of shit in prison you know. As you kids use to like their music when you were younger, especially when we would sing it to you." He paused as the music carried on before speaking some more, "I thought about those songs a lot...and you kids. I don't wanna end back up in there Em, and I'm pretty positive I won't. I don't think your mother and I would make it..."

with: Emery Misty Gray

 

[Bellz]

Roxanne Carriveau
​

Roxie's smiled sweetly, "Thanks hun! And I'm starved!" When asked where the best place to eat was, Roxie had to think. There was quite a few places in the area that were her regular hangouts...Before she could think any further, she needed to check something first. "Hold that thought, I have to check the answering machine." She murmured before walking over to the bookshelf near the window, which held the answering machine. Pressing play on it, Roxie listened as she was informed she had one new message. The message began to play and the deep tenor voice of her father could be heard in the room, "Roxanne Beatrice Carriveau, have you forgotten about your meeting with your mother and I this morning? It is not wise to keep us waiting." With that, he hung up and that was it for her messages. The warning was odd in itself from anyway you looked at it, and for some reason Roxie's heart dropped at those final words.

What was her father going to do? She was a grown woman, she didn't have to go to those horrible and stuffy weekly meetings over morning tea on the yacht. All her parents ever did was tell her what she should have done with her life, and what she should be doing now. At only the age of 26, both her mother and her father already thought she should have been married to some sleazy businessman who makes millions and poking a hole in the condom to make sure the money supply never ran out.

"Sorry about that...my father...don't worry about that last part. He's just gonna have to live without seeing me today." Shrugging her shoulder's the woman was use too rebelling against her parents. "As I was saying...or maybe not saying yet, there's a pretty good deep dish pizza place just a short walk from here. " Her stomach growled at the thought of her meat lovers pizza and hummed, "Let's blow this joint." She said, nodding her head towards the door before reaching out to take his hand.

Out on the streets, the day was pretty busy, as it always was in the city. Roxie had lived in the city all her life...being in the quiet suburbs last night was unnerving to sleep in, she always had the roar of cars and traffic below as her white noise at night. As beautiful as the Porter's house was, she knew another side of wealth that was just as beautiful located in the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. The only thing she missed about living with her family, was the beautiful tower with gorgeous views of the night lights. "I could never live in the suburbs, " Roxie said suddenly as she looked around the towering buildings around them. "Silence is not necessarily a good thing. And it was far too silent for me. I missed my neighbors getting into a fight with the delivery man every night." She laughed. The pizza place was unlike what one would expect a woman of her standard to choose, it was a hole in the wall with a few tables inside but most of them were outside. Roxie looovved it.
with: Mitch RayPurchase

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
Bailey & Farrid's Apartment, Queens, New York
July 3rd, 1971 (Morning)

Interacted: Farrid ( Inb4Cloaker )
Mentioned: N/A

​

​

Farrid's body language and his speech did much to prompt the girl's thoughts. She was glad to hear it from him, lest she be the one to do it. Contrariety and discordance were what Bailey and Farrid had initially confirmed to be the aftermath of their eventful, and perhaps heartfelt morning. Bailey could have given time to abide by her roommate's actions. A part of the young girl had wanted to bail out, but there was a certain sentiment that had tugged at her inner competitiveness. Pride had long been Bailey's opponent and comforting agent for as long as she can recall. But ultimately, she did not want for what their friendship to be torn apart should this fails, among the doubts and her inexperienced course in the uncharted waters of romance. She contemplated if she was the one rushing things, but Farrid's humble expressions only gave her a solid reassurance of the path they were walking down. Bailey pressed herself for an answer from her heart, as she stood in silence, bewildered by the man's array of words.

Farrid spoke from his heart, accompanied by his sincere words that had long been buried beneath the two's common ground of personal liberties. Like many things they have shared in the past, there were a certain distance between the two, of which had now been called into question. Farrid had every rights to know Bailey's thoughts, as did she for his. The formulas in the auditor's head all came to the same answer. This was something she could not account for, nor can she take it lightly as mere numbers on a page. There were no solid data in the garden of romance, just pure words spoken from one's earnest feeling of affections. How will she reciprocate his thoughts? And how will she escape if everything shatters? Bailey ran by her thoughts, before coming to a realization that this was something she cannot just parry and getaway unscathed. But she had considered herself to be broken goods. Her pasts, present, and future were all in accordance of her own hideous personality. Will Farrid be able to accept her, despite her internal ugliness?

The girl sighed slightly, as she hid her face in shame beneath her falling locks of hair. The time that she had spent with Farrid had given her much insight into his own troubles, despite the latter had little words to go about it. She saw it in him, as she did her father. The rough and coarse thousand-yard-stares of a modern paladin, of whom were all but mighty when the seeds that they have reaped for the greater good, have taken the guise of a manifested inner evil. As much as she was afraid to admit it, Bailey did not want to bear the burden of watching someone she cared for to be consumed by their own evils. The scars of her troubled youth in Texas were of little note for her, but deep down, the girl knew the consequences. However, looking back, the two were fragments of the same broken vase. The pigments of their pasts might be different, but in the end, they were all but strokes of a painter's brush upon a larger canvas. Everything that Farrid had said began to settle.

Bailey crept forward, making her way towards the man, of whom had spent all of his words, like a soldier out of ammunition. There was no turning back for the two of them. The only way, was forward. Bailey had traded her composure for an all-out ultimatum. The room grew brighter, unveiling the creature in black, red and white, as she lifted her visage. Before long, a warm sensation befell the Syrian and the Texan. Bailey's face were drenched in tears. She was not the same person as she was before. Erupted like a sentimental volcano, the girl was crying. Her arms wrapped around Farrid's torso with a firm grasp.

"I... I just wanted to grab lunch, ya know...?"

She paused, burying her face within the confines of Farrid's chest. Her arms beating against his back. Bailey could not find any word for it. It was the first time she had been given a wholehearted revelation from her friend and ally. The things that they have seen together, and the things that are yet to come, were enough to give the girl what she needed to take the first step. Who would have thought that she would be given the full attention from someone she respected and cared for, even as a friend. While Bailey could not make sense of the situation, she was elated to hear that she had made a distinct impact on Farrid's course. For better or for worse, she had to take responsibility. In this moment, there was no shame to reinforce one's ideals for the one they cared about, Bailey contemplated.

"... y-you're bad at this, ya know that? I- I'm not a good person. Given our profession, you should know that... so... why?... You can't just... You can't do this... You have no right to do this to me..." she continued, as her limbs enclosed upon the man's shoulders, holding him tightly.

Beams of light pierced across the room. The un-curtained windows dispelled away the darkest corners of the living room, as Bailey hugged Farrid firmly. The girl had instead spiraled down into her own darkness. Self-loathing thoughts, tethered grips upon her roommate, and her own doubts. These thing made her ever more unstable. She did not know what she wanted for the two. She needed to hear it from him, but the gunrunner's words would not come out. She still had her uncertainties, as well as her disdain for the man's abrupt expressed feelings. It was not the same as from whence they were friends. Bailey did not ask for this, yet here she stood, holding onto the man tightly. She needed to be reassured. She wanted to be reassured.

"... I'm broken goods, Farrid. We all have our demons, and you deserve better, Farrid. Dagnabbit... I ought ta put a round in you right now ... " the southern girl's voice cracked, as she tried to hold back her tears, but to no avail.

 

[Misty Gray]

Maddox Parker​

Maddox nodded along with Syd in understanding as he cleared up what he meant with regards to women and how Roxie had highlighted his troubles with attractive women in general. Syd maintained the issue wasn't about Roxie, and Maddox wasn't convinced the woman in question wasn't more significant than he was letting on, but the counsellor chose not to push the issue and risk causing his client to close down on the subject.

Maddox smiled when Syd seemed willing to test the waters and practice communicating with attractive women. "Roxie would be a good starting point. Given what happened with her last night, it might prove challenging, but I have every faith in you, Syd. Regardless of the outcome, it will open up the door for you to keep trying as you'd have confronted a bigger obstacle already by approaching Roxie." Maddox listened on and continued to send an encouraging look to Syd, especially upon hearing he was motivated to make amends with Roxie by his need to avoid a falling out with his cousin. When the lawyer was once again mentioned, Maddox raised a curious eyebrow. Although it would likely look like it was the way he'd spoken of the competition it was actually the fact the name Mitch seemed to register in the back of Maddox's mind. Considering he had a meeting with Conor Sullivan's lawyer, Mitchell Van Gerwen, in a short time, it wasn't beyond the realms of possibility that he was the same person. In fact, it was more unlikely that Mitch and Mitchell Van Gerwen were two different people. Either way, it wasn't relevant. The sessions were confidential, as was Conor's case. There was no reason to bring it up and remaining impartial was Maddox's professional duty.

As Syd explained how he figured the lawyer and Roxie weren't in a relationship, it seemed like his client was still in with a chance of becoming better acquainted with the woman in question. Maddox didn't give any reaction to Syd's behaviour which could be perceived as childish. It was clear he did like Roxie and jealousy brought out the kind of feelings people preferred to keep locked away. It was good that he was able to express them in the sessions as it would reduce the chance of any immature words coming through should Syd try to build bridges with Roxie.

"I agree that you should try to make amends with Roxie. I would like you to focus on doing so before our next session. Whatever happens with her, we can talk about it then and decide the next step." Syd was clearly on the same page and he too acknowledged that approaching Roxie would open the door to him finding happiness, even if that was with a different woman altogether. The next thing Syd said caused Maddox to unexpectedly think of his own personal life. "30 is still young, believe me," he reassured him. The counsellor was 34 and it had been some time since he'd been in a significant relationship. He was no stranger to speaking to women and dating, but it rarely lasted beyond the next morning. Sometimes, it was down to the simple fact they'd lacked any spark beyond physical attraction. But mostly, he'd always allowed his work to take up his time and convinced himself he wouldn't be able to give another person enough of his attention. It seemed the conversation had reminded the counsellor he too wasn't in favour of spending his days alone.

Maddox was aware the session was in its later stages. "How do you feel about taking the step we've discussed? Approach Roxie to make amends and that's the first hurdle out of the way, whichever way it pans out. I can't find you the happiness you desire, but I can certainly work you to help guide you in the direction you choose to take." He would wait until he was sure it was the right point in their conversation before addressing something he could actively control for Syd. "How are you getting on with the medication? Any side effects or reservations?" he enquired. Unlike his colleagues, Maddox preferred to take the approach of avoiding over-prescribing as he believed that left patients at the mercy of the drugs. How could his clients overcome their difficulties if they were only being hidden and controlled by the pills alone?


Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[shadowz1995]

"Understood, Sir."

It wasn't the original target he had in mind the prior night but it was good enough. The idea of killing someone who knew he was being hunted by an assassin brought some excitement to the chase. When a mark was unaware, it was almost too easy and for someone in Dante's field, easy was dangerous. You could easily become accustomed to easy and make careless mistakes along the way to a more challenging target.

This "Kyle" sounded like an unbearably easy mark. Targets that hung around clubs were always easy marks. Dante gave the mob boss a polite bow before he turned around and went out the door without any further dialogue.

He had work to do.


------------------------

The Red Lounge

Dante was lying in wait in the building directly across from the nightclub. His gear was very simple. A three piece suit, a 9mm pistol, chloroform, his knife, and some garrote wire to pay homage to the conversation with his medic friend from yesterday. Hopefully, he'd never have to see this particular corpse in his makeshift clinic.

The Roman assassin held position for about 3 hours before his target finally rolled into view. One Mr. Summers, all dressed up for a night on the town and with a girl on each arm. How delightful. He was going to have a fun night out tonight.

Dante came out with the same mindset. It was going to be a fun night out. He even dressed for the occasion.

Kyle and his escorts went into the club, giggling and flirting, while Dante merely watched through the second floor window, a smile mirroring Summer's own grin. He stayed up there for about another hour before finally starting his night on the town. The man was probably deep enough in drinks and women to not notice his presence at that time.

-----------

Easy.... too easy....

Dante didn't like it when things were too easy. It made him suspicious.

Even the guards were easy to fool. All he had to do was stand around nearby and pretend like he was waiting for a friend of his to show up at the club before some female vultures caught eye fulls of his high quality threads and obviously, "not from around here" vibe he was purposely giving off. Dante knew he was easy on the eyes and the clothes really do make the man. At least, the impression of the amount of wealth the man had.

One bold woman decided to try her luck and lead him inside. She was probably thinking she just landed free drinks for the rest of the night and she would be right. As long as she provided camoflauge, Dante would play along.

Once they were inside, however, things became impossibly dull. The music was low quality at best, the women were painfully obvious in their motivations, the men were equally as obvious, the staff hated their jobs, and the guards looked like they were just begging for someone to start something. Just to have something to do tonight.

If they only knew...

-------

Kyle had been in the VIP lounge and as suspected, was neck deep in cigarette smoke, lipstick, perfume, and whiskey neat. He didn't even have bodyguards. Lord above, this man fancied himself powerful, didn't he? How dense can a human being be? Did he honestly believe that he got away with the betrayal with no repercussions and was just.... living it up? After stabbing the most powerful man in New York in the back? Truly?

This was too damn easy.

The bounds of human stupidity never ceased to amaze.

------

"-at a jerk. Like honestly, what kind of person does that to a lady like me. That's why I like You. You've been nice to me and have been buying me drinks all night without asking for anything in return. I'd... like to return the favor? At my place maybe?"

'Right. What was this woman even talking about? Well, it doesn't matter.'

"That does sound nice, miss. However, I have finally found the friend I was waiting for. You see that man over there? In the VIP lounge?"

"Yes? What about him?" the woman asked as Dante reached into his pocket and pulled a roll of hundred dollar bills. He pressed it into her hand, "For the rest of the night. I just need you to do me the favor and ask him to go into one of the private rooms with you. Use that money to pay for it and the rest is yours to keep. You can consider us even if you do that."

Now, under normal circumstances, no woman in her right mind would accept such a deal but given that Dante had bought her possibly a gallons worth of alcohol throughout the night, she was so piss drunk it seemed like a good idea. "He looks handsome. You aren't patient enough to wait to go to my place and want your friend to join in. Fiiiiine by me."

Then the woman stumbled off to perform the task given to her by the handsome well-dressed fellow. Kyle was probably far more drunk than this woman was and with the way she was dressed.... well.... Kyle would have a hard time resisting the offer.

----------

"Alright ladies! Lezzz *hic* get things rolling! Izz time to get to da REAL fun tonight."

Some polite giggles followed the drunken comment but there was no real humor or even desire in their voices. If anything, they sounded how the guards looked outside. They just wanted this night to be over with.

Truly, it was a shame they got locked in with this client tonight. They would lose much more than some dignity.

Kyle Summers slovenly stumbled through the doors of the private room without an ounce of shame or grace, with his two beautiful escorts trailing close behind. The mark slumped onto couch that was pressed against the wall and he looked to the stunning ladies approaching him, completely unaware of the strange man in the shadow of the room, closing the door behind them.

The band in the club started playing loud and upbeat jazz, as per Dante's request and handsome tip, just as the knife was introduced into it's new, soft, fleshy home in the first escort's neck before being rendered homeless. Ripped away from its home so suddenly. The blaring saxophone and trumpets drowned out the alarmed screams of the second escort as she watched her coworker collapse to the floor in a sputtering, gurgling mess of crimson and panic. The second escort soon follow once the blade was introduced to her heart once, twice to each lung, and once across the neck for good measure.

Kyle Summers in his drunken stupor was alarmed and panickstricken but could not find the coordination to do much in retaliation. The liquid courage was enough to prompt him to stand and take a wild swing at his assailant. Dante easily side stepped the blow, sheathed his knife and pulled out the garrote wire. He was supposed to be sending a message tonight, after all. Another inaccurate haymaker was thrown which the Roman easily slipped past.

Now, Mr. Summers was his.

The wire was looped around his neck and the moment Dante applied a bit of pressure, the metal already bit through the skin and into the soft tissue underneath. Dante crouched down and yanked Kyle onto his back, bending him over backwards and then slowly..... pulled.

The man couldnt even get out a cough in protest. Not even a gurgle and the wire sliced through his trachea. He merely flailed wildly and with all his strength to try and free himself. With every twist and turn, the wire dug deeper and deeper. "James sends his regards, Mr. Summers. You should have been more careful with who you did business with." The target fought harder upon hearing this. As if it would free him....

Eventually, the struggle lessened. And lessened. And lessened. Until Kyle Summers remained inhumanely still. Dante's back was slick and warm from the blood that ran freely from the traitor's neck. Thankfully, black was such a concealing color. You couldn't even tell he was wet unless you got very close. You'd smell the blood before you could see it.

The hitman relaxed his posture and allowed the former target to drop to the floor beside him. "That's how a professional does it, Mr. Assas." he quipped to himself with a chuckle, harkening back to Farrid's confusion with such wounds. Blood had directed the room from three sources and it quite literally looked like a massacre had took place here. Dante was now prepared to bestow some mercy as he pulled out the chloroform and doused his handkerchief in the chemical. He approached the innocent ladies he had stabbed.

They were still alive, barely. That was the thing with death by stabbing. It wasn't like the movies and shows portrayed it. It was the furthest thing from instant you could get. It took minutes. Sometimes hours before the sweet embrace of death finally took you. Before the cold set into your very bones to drag you to that final slumber. The assassin placed the handkerchief over the nose and mouth of the first escort. She moved to resist, one hand still clutching at her throat to stem the bleeding but her strength had long since left her. She just weakly pawed at his hand as her eyes closed slowly. The chloroform performing its miracle and sparing the woman any further pain as the remainder of her life ebbed away from her.

Dante repeated the same process for the second woman before turning back to the reason he was here. The Italian unraveled the garrote wire from Kyle's neck and kicked his body over so his Soulless eyes were staring at the roof. The message was sent but the reason why had not yet been.

How should he do it? Writing it in his blood seemed a bit tasteless....

There was that thing the Colombians did to rats....

That would have to suffice. The jazz song was almost over.

Humming along to the song the band was playing, Dante reached into corpse's severed throat and pulled it open further with his fingers. With his free hand, he reached in and dug upwards until he acquired his secondary target. Kyle's tongue. He hooked a finger around the base of the tongue and pulled it harshly downwards until the tongue was laying on the outside of Kyle Summer's neck, through the bloody ruin of a crevice Dante had opened.

That would be enough. Now, just one more thing to take care of.

------------------

The happy phantom was humming the song he had requested of the band for the rest of the night. Swaying lightly to the song playing in his head as he finished digging. Satisfied with his work, he climbed out of the hole and chucked the heavy, black bag in. Sadly, no loose ends could be allowed. An iron rule for any hitman. If Dante had to kill every single person in that club, he would. Luckily, that was never the case. Still, it was shame that she never got to use that money he gave her.

....what was her name again?

Oh well.

------



Dante held a small smirk on his face as he called Jame's personal number after he finished filling the unmarked grave. "Job's done, Sir. Loose ends have been tied up. The message was sent rather clearly I'd say but the job was quick and quiet. You should hear about it in the morning. I'll take the minimum payment for this job. It was far too easy." With that, he clicked the call and sauntered back to his car. Swagger in his stride and happiness in each step. As if he got a promotion that night.

"Hm... wonder if Ms. Bailey picked up her flowers. I may need to deliver it to her. Oh, I also must thank her for this knife. It cuts exquisitely." he spoke to the emptiness around him.

Misty Gray
Mentions:
Pilgrim59 Inb4Cloaker

 

[Misty Gray]

Conor Sullivan​

Conor grinned when it was confirmed there hadn't been any cute girls at the party. "Alright. Just take your charm with you to the beach," he joked. When Aliana pointed out girls wasn't something he needed to be concerned with yet, Conor made a point of pretending to zip his own mouth shut. "Your mother's right. No need to be under the thumb so early... Keep your freedom for as long as you can." It was at that point that Conor figured he would have benefited from actually fastening his lips shut. His words could be perceived as being in poor taste not only for prison limiting his own freedom, but also it sounded as if he was getting a dig in about his marriage to Aliana. "Because, when you do love someone, you've got to put in the effort and show her you're in there for the long run. Gotta be ready for commitment," he said, hoping to redeem himself from his bad joke at least a little. Conor tried to keep up with the conversation about the pets. A dog couldn't fit into a fish bowl, so it must have been the hamster he'd been teaching to swim. "Ah, no mate. You don't go putting hamsters underwater..." he trailed off. He closed his eyes and shielded them with his hand as he rubbed his forehead in something of a nervous fashion. The thoughts of the hamster drowning could only take him back to his own nightmares. The water filling his lungs as his own head was forced down into the filled bathtub. Vinnie Romano's threats. Lucy's desperate cries. Conor had to force his mind out of the dark memories that continued to plague him and instead back to the room where his son sat happy to see him. Conor opened his eyes and forced a smile onto his face, lightly shaking his head. "Only the fish goes in that fishbowl. Hamsters can't swim and they don't need to. Please, keep them on land," he firmly told Leo.

Conor heard the tapping sound caused by Aliana's bracelet connecting with the table. He looked down to see the piece of jewellery she was wearing and it caused him to tighten his jaw as he thought about it. Tommy had been a good man and a dear friend of Conor's. When the young man was murdered, it hurt a lot of people. Most of all, it hit Aliana hard. When she continued to wear the bracelet the kind young man had given her, it didn't bother Conor. In the end, he believed Aliana had chosen him, not Tommy. He understood why she wore the bracelet - it had been the last gift she'd received from Tommy before he died. Yet, years later, it only just really began to get to Conor and it felt wrong for him to resent the man who wasn't even around to defend himself. It was just difficult for Conor not to feel bitter since Aliana had separated from him. He felt like he couldn't hold a candle to sweet, pure, perfect Tommy. How could he? He'd shown himself to be nothing but aggressive and irresponsible. He didn't make a point of speaking up about it, but he knew he should have been the one sitting in Tommy's place the night he was shot dead during the meeting between the Porters and the IWU. The only reason James had asked Tommy to attend in Conor's place was because he had feared Conor would have exacerbated the tensions around the table. Did Aliana deep down blame him too? "Looks like Dr. Parker's in for a long session next week..." Conor thought.

Conor simply nodded his head when Aliana spoke up to confirm she was only present because she had to be, not because she wanted to be. "Here we are..." Conor slowly copied his estranged wife's words. Before he could allow the atmosphere to take a further nosedive, Leo spoke up again and dragged Conor back to Earth, where his features could only soften in his son's presence. The conversation turned to how people went to hell for breaking promises, to which Aliana clarified awful people broke promises. He wondered if he was meant to take such a comment personally. "Well, I hear it's hot down in hell and I do need to top up my tan," Conor remarked, holding out his arm to look at his skin tone. But he then firmly shook his head. "I think that punishment is a bit extreme. People make mistakes and what's important is that they learn from those mistakes. That they grown and become better people from it. That they admit they screwed up and would do anything to make it up to those they've let down," he said, shifting his focus to look Aliana in the eyes. "I would hope that then they will have time to prove it and to avoid being trapped in hell," he said, still looking at Aliana despite addressing Leo.

Conor was dragged out of the moment when Aliana spoke of needing a favour. He quickly nodded his head and showed willingness to hear her out, seeing as he did owe her. When she started speaking in code, Conor soon realised she was talking about Sinead and Peter. But she wanted to know what had happened and he wasn't sure if he could tell her enough with Leo present, not even in code. Not as subtle as his wife, Conor looked to Leo and send him a playful smile. "Leo, can your mother and I have a few minutes alone? There's some drinks by the door where you came in - get yourself some juice, yeah? The guard will probably be watching you. It's because he knows you're dodgy," he teased the boy.

Conor looked back to Aliana and let out a sigh. "Pete had a hard time in here. There's a constant battle for power and dominance, with people wanting to assert themselves over those they see as weaker. They tried it with me, I fought back and most of them learned not to try again. But Pete isn't a fighter, not like the people in here. They saw that and persistently harassed him, breaking him down. There's nowhere to run in here and he was outnumbered. Our family can't do shit behind these bars. Pete was in a different block to me, so I couldn't be there for him when it counted. I'd see him in the aftermath, at mealtimes, and there was fuck all I could do to help." Conor sat back and shook his head. "Pete had to find a way to protect himself and build up his own defences. Sinny, bless her heart, I suspect she won't understand that. She's always tried to keep us guys from fighting, telling us we don't have to be tough and peace is the way forward. But that's not how our family's world works. The last thing Pete will want is to be told he doesn't have to be tough, not after what he's been through." Conor let out another deep sigh, feeling torn between Peter and Sinead. "But she needs reassurance too and I'm not sure how she can get that, other than Pete being able to give it to her. I'm afraid she's another person I've let down by ending up in here. She lost Dad and then Savvy's biological psycho-dad. Finn left. Ryan left. Pete and me ended up in here. I can't blame her for taking this shit personally. She needs to know she won't lose Pete too. And Pete... if he's still struggling the way I think he is, then he needs help none of us can give him." Conor sat forward. "Do I need to know anything? Has anything happened between Sinny and Pete that we should be worried about?"

Melanin-Gxdess (Aliana, Leo)
Mention: Bellz (Peter)

 

[Misty Gray]

Detective Smithson
~ New York Police Department ~

The Detective pinched the bridge of his nose as Lucy told him she wouldn't speak any further without her lawyer present. He knew not to expect a straight answer from the Porters but had still attempted the impossible. "If you do happen to have any information you'd wish to share with us - with or without your lawyer - you know how to reach me. Likewise, you will no doubt be hearing from us as we continue the investigations." He stood up but didn't start walking as he made eye-contact with Lucy. "I suggest you all stay out of Connecticut. The last thing my colleagues over there need is people getting under their feet. If there is a crime scene, we want it to remain unspoiled," he remarked, taking advantage of the lack of lawyer to get his snipe in.

When conversation turned to Olivia, the Detective nodded his head. "The girl will need to remain in your care whilst the investigation is ongoing and I'll make sure a social worker meets with you in the coming days to assess the situation," he advised. Sensing the woman's potential growing impatience, he led her into the room where Olivia and Thomas were, then left them to make their way out of the station.

*******

Olivia Sullivan

Olivia quickly nodded her head when Thomas suggested they play I Spy. She listened as he told her he spied something that was green. She slowly looked around the room and let out a sigh as she concentrated on the objects around them. For a little while, it seemed like she'd grown bored of the game or had changed her mind about playing at all. Then, she quickly pointed to the green houseplant on the shelf and looked eagerly to Thomas. When she was told that wasn't the right answer, she let out an audible groan. "Well, it is green," she informed him. She then looked around again before pointing at the green filing cabinet. "That drawer thing over there!" she told him.

Soon after, the door opened and Olivia quickly turned her head to see Lucy enter the room. She wasn't surprised to see the woman. Arlene had always told her who the few people she could trust were. If anything was to happen to her mother or if she needed to go to anyone else but her mother, she should trust Lucy and James first. After them, it was Syd, Conor, Sinead. But right now, it was Lucy and as much as she liked the blonde woman who had entered the room, it wasn't her mother. Olivia quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she figured something had happened to Arlene.


Bellz (Lucy, Thomas)​