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⋆ ⁺ ₊ ౨ৎ the evening’s true final course has been served.

the name. the motive. the wrap-it-in-a-bow answer to coronado's most violent, public death in a generation. the words are precisely crafted. deliberately delivered. a miller with a cause. a man unlucky enough to become a convenient villain. and what a convenient occasion to present him to everyone on a silver platter. ariya's hand stills around the stem of her glass as she processes and her stomach twists. her brother would have made a convenient scapegoat if he was still around too. maybe it's this very thought that doesn't have her swallow the presented bait. or maybe it's the fact that by now she's spent enough time in this city to know when something doesn't add up. things with stakes this high are never that easy. a killer motivated by warped politics wouldn't stage a point-blank execution like that — not in front of a crowd, in front of an audience of people, some of which he knew, people entirely unprepared to bear witness to that kind of violence. that wasn't just a statement. it was a message. a message meant for a very specific audience. the sheer scale refuses to click into place in her mind. not next to the culprit they've handed out. the trauma left in the assassination's wake, the scream echoing in her ears even now, it can't be written off in a byline this neat. she remembers that day. some mornings, she wakes up already halfway through the memory. the color of blood. the sound of the shot. sometimes it's not the premier on stage. it's people she cares about. but the ending is always the same. she's trying to talk about it. trying being the operative word. with some state-recommended trauma therapist who probably signs the same confidentiality waivers the high council hands out like candy. the woman asks good questions. but ariya's not sure she wants answers from someone she can't fully trust. who can she trust these days, really? she shifts in her seat slightly, eyes moving subtly across the room. she isn't scanning for threats. she's scanning for simone. one of the few people whose name crosses her mind at the former question sitting in her chest. maybe if she finds the same doubt in her eyes, it'll be proof enough that her intuition still works. but she doesn't find her. just strangers dressed like allies and allies that look a little too much like strangers. a thought surfaces in her mind then, quiet and razor-sharp: if she meets the gaze of a del bosque and they find traces of disbelief lingering anywhere on her face... her name might no longer be found on a guest list but rather next in line on the chopping block. so, she does what she's always done. she masks. neutral. polished. lifting her glass, taking a sip and turning her head ever so slightly like she may have just let the information sink in. but her fingers drift to her mouth, knuckles grazing her lower lip under the pretense of fixing her lipstick. "you heard that, right?" she murmurs against her hand, too soft for any ears nearby to catch but not for the listening device she slipped on before leaving her apartment. a beat. she exhales. "...bullshit." she can almost hear leon saying it too in that gruff and matter-of-fact tone. like confirmation of what she already knows. maybe it's her imagination. maybe he's silent on the other end. but the imagined echo still steadies her. it's enough to re-center her. enough to keep her functioning. she rises from her chair slowly, unhurried, not drawing attention. just another guest, preparing to make one last round. one more circuit around the marble floor. one more chance to overhear the wrong thing from the right mouth before she takes her leave. perhaps she shouldn't overstay her welcome.

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⋆ ⁺ ₊ ౨ৎ @intheseaofred. LOCATION: classia tower, ariya's apartment. DATE: a few days after the happenings of this night...

ariya is a mess. though she rarely admits it, not even to herself and surely not to others. she prefers to believe that, with a bit more childhood conditioning, she might have taught masterclasses in emotional compartmentalization. the art of setting your inner turmoil aside just long enough to appear functional had practically been her bread and butter since she'd been old enough to think. and yet, this time, it was undeniable. the storm that had unleashed itself within her ever since her brother's necklace brushed against her fingertips sat trapped in her chest, outdone only by the guilt of remembering simone's injury (which made the blonde the recipient of frequent texts checking in on her) and her own visual reminders of what had happened. her scraped palms and the now fading cut from whipping branches tracing her right cheekbone like a half-forgotten memory. the bruising from the fall she'd taken had been the easiest thing to hide of all. still, she wasn't exactly giving news anchor ready. even worse, she wasn't giving conrad-ready. it was this very reason why she'd taken it upon herself to use every feasible excuse she could think of to avoid bumping into him. how on earth could she begin to explain what had happened when she was barely beginning to wrap her own head around it? how could she have faced him without breaking down? last he'd heard from her, ariya had insisted she was feeling unwell. her last text containing some half-baked excuse about not wanting to get him sick before she'd silenced her phone altogether, trying to swallow the guilt of lying to the one person she least wanted to lie to. she should have known better. the thought hits her all at once when she hears the knocks followed by his familiar voice on the other side of her front door. of course he would show up. of course he wouldn't let her disappear with a flimsy text and radio silence. her heartbeat spikes, thudding against her ribs as if it too was trying to run. "just a second!" she calls out, her voice thinner than she intends. ariya spins on her heel, eyes darting across the apartment like she might find a version of herself lying around that looks a little more stable. her hair is twisted into a lazy low bun, strands that had come loose hours hours ago framing her features. she was still in her favorite matching pajama set, soft cotton in a muted blush tone, comforting in its familiarity but far too intimate for this meeting she hadn't rehearsed for. she lunges for the long-sleeved shirt slung over the back of the couch, yanking it on quickly. the sleeves swallow her hands. an intentional choice. if conrad couldn't see the scrapes and cuts, maybe he wouldn't ask. maybe he wouldn't look at her with that penetrating kind of worry she couldn't handle. ariya takes one more breath, smoothes her hair down with trembling fingers and unlocks the door. when it swings open, the words die in her throat. there he was — every piece of him she missed, every part she was terrified to face. her mind scrambles for something to say, something that will ease the tension in her chest, that will make this seem normal. and yet, all she can seem to muster is a soft and quiet "hi" as her lips curve into a tentative smile.

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a breath catches in her throat upon the intrusion of her personal space. he lingers there like a cloud of smoke, light yet heavy all the same, leaving her lungs and heart stuttering as they're fighting the invisible vapor that might just suffocate her if she let it. his touch burns with a familiarity that he's long lost his claim to. it's different — they're different — but nostalgia has always been a companion cruel enough to send fleeting reminders, flashes of memories, to the forefront of her mind. perhaps under different circumstances that's what she would have gotten stuck on but the fear coiling in her chest isn't due to the disappearing inches of space between them. not tonight. it's the violent reminder of the device leon had bestowed upon her, well hidden in the jewelry by her ear — the opposite side of where his fingers choose to taunt her, by nothing less than some stroke of luck. she'd been confident in the untraceable nature, the placement, the silky locks serving as another shield. but with teo this close, her heart trashes wildly with the impending danger of being found out all the same. she'll let him believe it's all him. better he thinks each shuddering breath and shiver down her spine is solely his doing. the prominent thought commanding her instincts is just one. she needs to play this smart. if she flinches too much, turns her head too quickly, lets her eyes flicker with too much alarm... teo’s observant in his own way. ariya can’t risk it. she needs to throw him off. something nearly impossible to do. he'd always seemed unshakable but she'd be damned if she didn't try. she'd stepped too close to a lingering flame, it only served her right that now she was stuck playing with fire. "flirting with your cousin? is that what you think i did?" she asks when she finds her voice. a sigh falls from her lips that lands somewhere between teasing and disappointed, hand moving in time with the sound as it lifts and reaches out for him. the motion freezes just for the fraction of a second, like there’s an invisible line left to shatter, before she breaks it all the same because she must and allows it to settle against his cheek. "teo, teo," she hums, thumb brushing softly past his skin, "what am i supposed to do with you?" she holds his gaze, willing herself not to look away even though her throat is threatening to go dry. "all this time to study..." the gentle motion stills against his cheek, just to pat it twice. "...and you still don't know me at all." she doesn't withdraw her touch right away, making it a point to brush her fingertips past his jaw and down his neck as they travel, allowing them to settle against his chest. she's determined to give him something to focus on. something to draw his attention away from where his own hands linger. her eyes finally follow the movement of her touch, grateful to free herself from that piercing gaze just for a moment, as she watches herself toy with a button on his shirt. her voice is low, expression pensive when she speaks. "i'd tell you to brush up on your homework but i suppose the subject no longer calls for it." her gaze flicks back up then, as if trying to capture his reaction to her words. her fingers flatten against the fabric of his suit and finally — she pushes. him back, herself away. gentle but firm. slipping further from his reach, pulling herself back out of his orbit, creating treasured space that has clean air flooding back into her lungs as she instinctively draws a deep breath. but her eyes don't look away. not quite yet. "i like the suit, by the way." her lips curve when she speaks. the smile is heavy, loaded. she takes another step back, inching herself closer to the muffled sound of music from inside. "you look nice."

He catches the scent of her perfume as she steps closer to him, a signature that's all Ari; warm and familiar. In contrast, he's a maelstrom of ever-shifting pieces; different tailors, a new cologne, changing tastes — never again found in a place once he's left it.

"Careful," He echoes, doing away with the remaining space between them, the ease of a man who is in the habit of overstepping dangerous lines. "If someone overheard you talking like that, they'd undoubtedly think you're cruel..." Teodósio captures a strand of silky hair between two fingers, a hundred tactile memories running between them. He tucks it behind her ear, letting his hand linger against the base of her scalp.

"Taunting your ex? Flirting with a man who could be his brother?" Not that he imagines Andrea had actually done so tonight, not here and not yet. He's too careful for that risk, or maybe just too neurotic. But the truth doesn't much interest Teodósio. If she likes to imagine that he's jealous, he'll pick up a paintbrush and help her complete the picture.

And when she's this close, it's easy. Moonlight pours over Ariya's face, tilted back to meet his gaze. Beyond the balcony door, a violin trills a muffled solo. All the while his touch ghosts along her neck, forfeiting the curtain of her hair; soft like a brushstroke.

"Gloating about it, even... Who knew you had it in you?"

Poor Ariya, he thinks, eggs always in the wrong basket. Not only would Andrea fail in helping her find where she stands, he doesn't even know where to find it for himself.

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there's a sort of routine to the way he fills up the bowls for the cats that betrays his former claims about his lack of ownership over them and her eyes sparkle with the appropriate amusement at the quiet observation. the furball in her lap stretches, a quiet meow heard in passing before scout departs from his resting place atop ariya and the couch to collect his dinner. she follows suit then, rising from her former position to approach the table he'd set for them. "not even a little charred?" she hums, soft and teasing, though there's an evident warmth bleeding through, "we might have to start discussing your payment soon. typically only the first taste test is free. correct, chef?" she slides into the seat as if she'd claimed it a million times before and, almost out of instinct, she finds herself pulling the chair just a few inches closer to where conrad had put down his own plate. it happens before she can think better of it, like her body is responding to a lingering gravitational pull. she inspects the tacos, lips curving into a gentle smile. when was the last time someone had cooked for her? not at a restaurant or fancy event but in the comfort of their own home without a major occasion. it had been a while, certainly. it had been a while since she had done more than half-heartedly throw something quick together, too. it takes her exactly one bite to release a noise of approval, eyes finding conrad's as she nods eagerly. "you're hired. name your price, whatever it is." her eyes remain locked on him when he speaks as she hangs on every word he says. the sentiment was familiar. everybody needs somebody. it was a belief she'd echoed before and yet, somewhere along the way, the reality of it seemed to have gotten caught in the crossfire of the position she'd placed herself in. the list of people she trusted had dwindled significantly since her brother's passing, the list of ones she relied on had become even shorter. she liked to think of herself as reliable but when was the last time she'd actually let herself lean on somebody? today, she realizes, gaze studying conrad's features like she's trying to catalogue details into memory. as long as it's the right person. ariya places the taco back on its plate once he finishes speaking, wiping her hands clean before reaching one out towards him, pinky extended in a silent request for him to loop his own through it, much like something she would have done when they were much younger. she meets those bright blue eyes, her gaze not shying away as she speaks. "pinky promise to be your person if you promise return the favor?"

He tilts his head just slightly, a small movement that shows just how attentively he listens to her, even when the words of a reply don't form on his lips. Their dynamic has changed, both of them have changed over the years and yet somehow in this place, it feels like nothing ever changed, it feels easy and normal, like falling asleep on your bed after a long day. The conversation flows and the small silences that linger don't feel uncomfortable.

His eyes flicker back towards her figure, his heart beating just in time to remind him of the dangerous feelings he is unwilling to admit, "don't get cocky now" it sounds like a warning but without the edge it is supposed to have, instead its softened, lost within his smile. If, Ari, only knew just how much she had distracted him in these past few days.

The phone he always used to lose around at work, the same one he often left at home simply because of how little attention he paid to it, using it mostly only for work and little less, was now always tucked in his pockets, just to make sure that if she needed him, he would be within reach.

He puts in the final touches, leaves the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink and washes his hand before setting up the table, the food ready for them to enjoy, just before he moves of again to feed the cats. All three of them looking at him with attention before moving to their usual spots, "c'mon, let's see if I did well enough for you, and unfortunately they are not burnt" he replies, trying to not engage with the little pang of jealousy he feels by picturing Ariya smiling at another man.

He stops, lets her sit down first before doing the same. There are many ways in which they are different, but in some they are identical. "It's strange, isn't it?" Conrad still remembers the first time his sister was able to cook dinner for the first time and even if he was a bit proud, he could not help the odd feeling of actually having someone do something for him. It was easier and natural to be the one always taking care of things. "But, not bad?" he asks before picking up one of the tacos and giving it a bite, still looking at the woman in front of him "I'm still learning that no one is actually meant to be doing everything on their own, it's okay to rely on someone, as long as its the right person" he had enough of trusting the wrong people in the past, however, something in his heart told him he could still trust her. The one that had never disappointed him, the one he had missed so much.

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she doesn't flinch when he turns to face her. doesn't look away either. the balcony air feels as though it has turned taut as a wire. and still, she holds his gaze. steady and full of searching, expression unreadablen in the half-light. at his last remark something flickers across her expression. it's not hurt, not quite surprise, though there's traces. it's something else. something that seems to spur her on enough for her to draw closer. her body moves as if its been waiting for the opening, smooth and quick, minimizing some of the distance between them. "careful," she says, voice pitched just low enough to make it intimate. she stops still an arms length away, as though there's an invisible line she knows not too cross. too dangerous. like her subconscious is instinctively warning her not to get too close for comfort. "if someone overheard you talking like that, they might think you sound jealous." the words are almost teasing, though there's some bite behind them as she holds his gaze, studying those all too familiar eyes up close. her lips curve, pulling into a smile that's sharp. she wants to swallow the next words but they escape her before she can think better of it. "maybe my type is simply someone who doesn't keep me guessing where i stand."

'Andrea and I have already made our introductions, you know.'

He could say that he knows, that he'd seen them interacting. Not close enough to have the faintest idea what they were talking about, obviously, but it makes little difference. He knows every one of Ariya's smiles, knows the ones that are real from the ones that aren't, and Andrea – whatever he'd said to her – had earned the former.

"More the fool, he."

If Ariya's meant to take the hint, she refuses, continuing to tell him how well they got on; how they've even exchanged numbers. He bristles at that, all the irritation he had swallowed when speaking to Andrea earlier that evening rising back up his throat.

He's no wiser for it, can't put his finger on what irks him about it, except an inexplicable feeling as though someone has stolen the die, or slipped a card out of his hand and left him at a disadvantage for it. "What could you possibly want with my cousin's number?"

As if that isn't enough, it's apparently his fault introductions had waited this long.

(It is his fault, but that's not the point.)

"Please accept my apologies, Ariya." It's caustic and sharp as Teodósio turns abruptly, the line of his body now facing hers. "I didn't realize he was your type."

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“Grief is love’s souvenir. It’s our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I love well. Here is my proof that I paid the price.”

— Glennon Doyle Melton (via 89words)

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she eyes him for a beat, without fully turning to glance at him. like she can't risk letting him read her full expression. like she's dissecting his words. like she's trying to peel back each individual layer of his reaction until she's left with answers she should have stopped digging for a long time ago. eight years to be exact. "andrea and i have already made our introductions, you know." she says then, the pause that follows delicate and measured to let the words sink in. "he's easier to talk to than i expected from someone sharing your last name. no immediate sharp edges. we even exchanged numbers." her gaze flicks to teodósio, a quiet challenge in her eyes. "you could have spared him the trouble of introducing himself. but then again, you never liked making things easier for anyone, did you?" she doesn't say it cruelly. in fact, it sounds almost like she means it. like she understands — or assumes, at least — that making things hard is one of the only ways he knows how to keep things safe.

It's a rare thing for Teodósio to wonder what other people are feeling, but standing on the balcony with Ariya – as if suspended in time – he wonders what she's feeling. How many times had she asked him about his family, his life, wanting to be part of it? How many times had he resisted; distracted her, put her off, kept her at arm's length?...

And now she's here. Not a thief in the night, but an invitee on a very exclusive guest list; one over which even he hasn't had any say. How does it feel? Teodósio tilts his head back, working a crick out of the muscles in his neck.

'Besides, Andrea doesn't make himself scarce when I walk into a room.'

"Maybe he's stupid." The words spill savagely out of his mouth as he rights his head, turning to flash Ariya a look. "Maybe you should really take pity on him, out of all the people you could approach when you walk into a room."

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"that depends," ariya says, eyes flicking upward like she's considering the question seriously. "are you the kind of man who makes good on his book-lending promises or the kind who just likes to say he has a library?" her voice is light, evidently teasing and something warmer lingers beneath it. a curiosity that could grow if allowed. "andrea del bosque, bookworm. who knew?" she doesn't sound mocking. in fact, there's the faintest note of approval tucked into the words, maybe even a little intrigue. at his question, she reaches for her purse, as if deciding something mid-thought, plucking out a minimalist business card containing her number. she offers it between two fingers, head tilting slightly. "here. for when you feel like arranging our next meeting." her lips curve into a smile, eyes sparkling with the faintest hint of well-meaning mischief. "we'll call it a two-person book club."

"I think I could get you that hazard pay you're looking for... if we go about it the right way, that is." Not that his family would ever pay her for anything, but he has near-unlimited amounts of money, more than he knows what to do with at any given time; he could afford to use a bit of it, even if on something more a joke than anything serious. "He would never tell me about a crush, but I'll keep my mind on it, I'm sure something'll come up." Truthfully, the only true childhood memory he has of Teo is that of finally finding out the thing that Teo'd been holding over his head for... what was it, weeks? Months? Years? And the heartbreak that came after, the questions, the answers it provided, his world turning upside down in a way that makes him sick to his stomach to this day, a roller coaster he can't get himself off of. "Oh, I never claimed to be perfect. But I have a decent collection of books, you're more than welcome to borrow from it at any point. My library's my favorite room in my home." That's true; it's big, but not cold. Dark, but not oppressive. The chairs are comfortable, there's a fireplace that's consistently burning in the winter, it might be his favorite place in the world. A brow raises at her next words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And when will be the next time we see each other?"

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"i have no trouble telling you apart," she says, evenly, no bite behind it. just the quiet confidence of someone who has looked too closely before to ever make that mistake. someone who used to light up at the sight of his frame before his face ever came into view. she doesn't step closer. just leans lightly against the railing, eyes flicking toward the scenery stetched out before them like it might give her something else to focus on. there's a calmness to her posture but it's practiced. the kind people wear when they don't trust themselves to show what's underneath. "besides, andrea doesn't make himself scarce when i walk into a room." a beat, then a dry glance sideways. she lets it hang there, soft but pointed. not quite an accusation, not quite nostalgia. maybe something in between.

Back when they were seeing each other, some eight years ago, he hadn't considered the way her career choice might one day come to haunt him. She'd been young then, years away from the set of a news station or a broadcast microphone. Now, he can't escape her. Not even here, it seems, in the heart of his own domain.

There's a stiffness in his spine that wasn't there a minute ago, but no visible change in his demeanor as Ariya approaches, the satin of her dress whispering over the balcony's marble. "So take them off... The dress is long; you'll still look a vision." He doesn't clarify whether he means a good one or a bad one. Instead, he lends an ear as Ariya reassures him that she won't linger. Teodósio doesn't respond with please, don't be silly, or even no, that's okay. He just listens, eyes on the dark, inimitable blue of the night sky.

"Maybe you were looking for Andrea. I'm told we look similar from behind."

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"i know," comes the reply, quiet but unmistakably hers. ariya steps past the threshold like she owns the night rather than wandered into it. as if his voice didn't give her momentary pause. her heels click softly against the stone, deliberate, unhurried. she doesn't look at him at first. just crosses to the edge of the balcony with the kind of practiced poise that makes it seem like she was invited there, not dismissed. "i figured if i was going to lose any more feeling in my feet, i might as well do it somewhere with a view." only then does she glance over her shoulder, expression unreadable. "didn't realize you'd already claimed it." a beat. "don't worry. i won't linger." but she doesn't leave, either. not yet.

LOCATION — Isolde in Villa Solana DATE — July 18, Pt. I STARTER — Open to Any/All

He'd thought to escape the crowd temporarily on one of the villa's quieter balconies.

Unfortunately, the entrance behind him marks the third time he's been interrupted in a span of ten minutes. He has no interest in putting on another charade of false humility in response to "this place is a maze!" or a near-identical sentiment, so Teodósio speaks before he's spared the glance over his shoulder. "Ballroom's the next door over."

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"fair enough," ariya concedes, tone still light, "though i imagine most media personalities show up with more appetite than discretion." she lets that hang in the air for a beat. just an observation wrapped in silk. at his follow-up, her head tilts slightly. "i find timing matters almost as much as the questions," she says evenly, "you barge in too soon and people mistake curiosity for opportunism. too late and someone else tells the story for you." she pauses, the barest flicker of something more contemplative crossing her expression. "so, as for what’s really got me waiting…" her eyes lift to meet his with calm precision. "timing is everything. you don't typically get second chances to get the story quite right. i suppose the perfect opportunity for the takeaway i'd like to leave people with has simply not presented itself yet."

"i've had plenty of media personalities knocking at my door," he corrected, even gently; "but not under the circumstances." as if an assassination would be anything more than routine... but katashi was meant to pretend like the premier's death had wounded him, just as what was expected out of everyone in their nation. "not quite? what's been getting in your way?" there was something sharp in his gaze, not quite suspicion. "more time? time is all we've got. what's really got you waiting?" not, of course, that he expected her to share...

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"your secret's safe with me," ariya replies with a mock-solemn nod, one brow arching and her tone landing on teasing, "though i feel like i should get hazard pay for being complicit in anything that might risk your mother's wrath." at his comment about being seen and not heard, something flickers briefly across her expression. understanding, maybe. recognition. then it's gone again, replaced by a faint smirk. "well, i look forward to whatever memories resurface. i'm sure there's something semi-humiliating buried in there somewhere. a bad haircut. a regrettable crush. a secret collection of sea glass or something." she tilts her head slightly at the self-deprecating remark. "reading is deeply endearing," she informs him, matter-of-fact, "very mysterious of you. brooding, even. the fish thing… less so, but i suppose no one's perfect." a beat. then, her mouth quirks. "you're climbing the ranks fast, andrea. keep this up and the slot might just be yours by the time we next see each other."

"Don't tell my mother, she'd practically be hospitalized." Andrea's being a bit dramatic, but he's also never been brave enough to challenge Luciana. He doesn't want to know what would happen to him if he did. As if it were his choice that she kept him, carried him, and then didn't ship him off to wherever the fuck his father is (whoever he may be). "Better for us to be seen and not heard, probably their thought process." Or, in Andrea's case, not seen and not heard and not acknowledged unless he's massively fucked something up. "I'll tell you what, if I can remember anything, you'll be the first to know." Andrea's memories of his childhood are blurry, and the ones from before his personal revelation even more so; he doesn't remember even a minute of what it was like to think he was Rafael del Bosque's second son. Therefore, all memories of his cousin, siblings... everyone, really - they cut out before that moment, like a TV trying to show a picture on a station that's mostly static. "As for me, I'm not sure how endearing I am. I like to read. Is that endearing?" He's still wearing a slight smile, almost self-deprecating, just bordering on reassured. He doesn't need to prove himself to anyone, he knows who he is. "I don't like to touch live fish, how's that?"

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ariya hums thoughtfully like she's weighing the new information with all the gravity of someone selecting a new premier. "well, if the rugs are to blame, then i suppose the real enemy here is interior design." her smile tugs wider, eyes glinting with dry amusement. "though i have to admit, there's something fitting about teo being raised in a house that literally muffled his footsteps." her fingers toy lightly with the bracelet on her wrist before she lifts her gaze back to him. "as for endearing... well, i'd rather you endear yourself to me than him. that seems like the more sensible option, all things considered. but tell you what, andrea," she says, lowering her voice a little like she's letting him in on a secret, "if you happen to come up with any more embarrassing stories about him — and i mean the good kind, the ones that would give him that little glint he gets when he's extra annoyed — i'll consider fast-tracking your application." her grin curves, warm and wry, like she's joking with someone more friend than recently introduced del bosque. "no pressure, of course."

"I mean, it wasn't his fault he walked so quietly, I don't think he was trying to scare me every time I rounded a corner." Andrea doesn't remember much about Teo's mother, but she was a dancer, wasn't she? That partially explained his tendencies to move like he weighed next to nothing. Andrea's nearly positive that Teo could walk up behind him without alerting him even to this day. "Oh, do you want me to stop endearing him to you?" He hasn't really thought about Teo having secrets. If anyone in their family has secrets, it's him. Everyone knows everything about everyone; things get out, and then they get locked up in the vaults labeled Family Business, and no one not named del Bosque knows a thing past that. He's glad for an excuse to stop thinking about whatever secrets Teo might be hiding from the rest of them. "Elena also moves very quietly, to be fair," he adds when she tells him he might be earning the title of favorite. He doesn't think he's ever been anyone's favorite anything. It's not like his competition pool is large, but he'll take what wins he can get right now. "Or maybe the rugs in the house are just thick." Or maybe he's so caught up in his own head that he doesn't pay attention to anything until it's too late; he's certain Teo would say it was that last thing. "I'm honored to be in consideration for the title, no matter what."

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"you mean to tell me no person working in media before myself has made the trip to come see you at your workplace? don't make it sound too lonely now, mister shibata, or i might have to start making it a new habit." the ease with which she says it sounds light-hearted. a joke shared between two people at this event that didn't hold loaded history. she's not sure she's fooling him but she'll be damned if she doesn't try. "not quite. the quest for knowledge never ends. comes with the job, i suppose. but your input was certainly appreciated. i only wish i'd had more time to pick your brain."

"i'm not so sure i believe you. about your creativity, i mean. twice now we've met in places i wouldn't expect." his tone was light, just shy of friendly. "i have been well, thank you. how has your writing been going? everything you've hoped for?"

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her laughter is soft but real. there's something about the image of an eleven-year-old andrea haunted by the silent ghost of teo. "that's horrible," she says, clearly delighted, "horrible and weirdly on brand." she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the smile still lingering. "honestly, i don't know if that makes you both more endearing or deeply concerning. maybe a little of both." then, with a mock-thoughtful hum, she adds, "it does explain his talent for just... appearing. always just behind you. like a very expensive shadow with secrets." she lets the words hang for a second before turning her attention back to andrea. "you're doing very well in the rankings so far, by the way," she says, "cousin-induced trauma and all. very compelling." a beat in which she gently nudges him with her elbow. "a few more confessions like that and you might just clinch the favorite del bosque title."

That genuinely makes him laugh; he doesn't think anyone's ever called him normal before. "I'm flattered, I think," he says, the smile remaining on his face. "If you want looming, I'm sure we can find Elena... she's got most of the looming genes." He's definitely the looming sort, but he knows how to put on a good face at these parties. When he gets back to his apartment tonight, he'll surely be back to looming. Tilting his head in consideration, Andrea rubs one hand over his jaw. "Well... when he first moved in, he used to scare me on a near-daily because he moved so silently. Mind, I was, what... eleven? - and I was so used to Monarosa being herself as she walked around the house, so I'd turn the corner and Teo'd be right there and it terrified me. Used to give me nightmares, I'm being genuine. It was like he was always watching me. I don't know if that's more embarrassing for him or for me, but... I think he goes to great lengths to avoid being seen in any embarrassing circumstances, honestly."