christianhowcrd

[christianhowcrd]

ROWAN THANE‌:

Rowan laughs when Christian references his old man bones, a brow raising as she takes another sip of her wine. “That who I saw you talking to this morning? He’s like ninety, so I think his old man bones trump yours,” she teases him gently. Still, she glances out at the horizon and what, to her, looks like a clear sky. But she’s definitely not an expert and for all she knows the three clouds in the sky mean there’s a hurricane coming. “A few times, yeah,” she nods when he asks if she’s been here before, pushing blonde hair behind her ears. “I think we’re gonna see about going diving tomorrow morning, Andy’s been talking about it nearly nonstop.” She can’t really see Charity being the type to go, but she extends an offer anyway, not only out of just wanting to be polite but because she does genuinely enjoy Christian’s company. Plus, it’s a good way to segway into the fact that he’s a married man who seems really cozy with her sister and what all of that means. “The coral’s supposed to be really pretty ‘round here, if that’s something you and Charity would be interested in. — How is she, anyway? I feel like we’ve been missin’ each other most of the trip so far.” Not that they would have any reason not to miss each other, would it not be for the show they’re both on. 

Christian laughs in return, leaning back in his chair to take a moment in this hilarity before he responded. “I mean, I suppose he knows these waters better than I would, even though we’re totally in the Caribbean Sea, and there is nothing to fear. The waters above have more strength to them here, nothing a good captain can’t handle.” He could go on and on about seafaring, since it was such a passion of his, but he didn’t want to bore his lunch companion. “Diving! What an excellent venture! You know what? If I’m not crashing a romantic interlude for two, count me in. And yeah, I heard the same thing about the sea reefs down here, and as much as I love a boat, I have an appreciation for the waters below too. I will definitely ask Charity, even though she did mention something about going shopping....have you not...run into her? She’s usually sunbathing or shopping, and we’re too...I suppose our honeymoon phase run it’s course, you know?” He’s not good at explaining what the deal with him and his wife is, not in the way that doesn’t raise eyebrows. And he knows that when word gets to Charity, she’s going to have it out with him and he simply couldn’t wait for that storm to pass over. “What about you and Andy? It must be nice, having a little couple’s retreat in sunny sunny Saint Barts. Like Catalina doesn’t have enough sunshine, you know what I mean?” 

[christianhowcrd]

JOLIE DE BEAUVOIR‌:

Now occupying a space from her father now, after being greeted by the echo of his voice and her peeping into his office, the blonde made sure to make herself feel right at home. Even if she felt the opposite of such considering all of the horrid memories lurching around the walls through all of the life changes of losing her birthfather, Pierre, and the welcome of Christian and Lourdes into the residency. There were once intensive changes. Yet, this was the life she had. Always valuing and admiring each person in her midst. The girl was beyond grateful for the opportunity to have a free afternoon to see the father figure in her life. Raising a minimal, brushed eyebrow toward her father in an attempt to recollect all of the seas of patrons known to the family, she instantly remembered and illuminated like a light bulb at how she remembered the couple. “Oh yeah! Claire is the attorney and Topher is the investor. I remember them. They were always nice to me,” she noted through an angelic tone. Although, through the grapevine, the older daughter heard from her younger sister all that was still happening with their mother and the sudden eruption of friendships. “When did she end up leaving for her lunch?” It was a genuine question. Only asking for Jolie knowing how long to make herself snug in the residency of her childhood before having to make a swift exit before Charity arrived. The relationship between mother and daughter was still strained. There was complications to their backstory. Putting it into words was often difficult. Sometimes, it was best to not discuss it but sooner than later, she knew she couldn’t run nor hide any moment longer. Not with this reality television show in everyone’s faces.

Embraced in a warm hug, it had instantly caused Jolie to sigh of relief at the welcome. This was something she had never endured from her mother. It was mostly hostile, cruel and words of belittlement. Every once in a while, a reference to her birthfather, who was gloomy thought in her conscience at how little she knew and heard only lavish stories from her grandmother. In the end, the girl trusted Margaux’s words over Charity’s as the years went on. Now seated, she allowed herself to get comfortable by tucking her leg underneath the other and sheepishly smiling towards Christian. “Instant coffee would be great actually. I’m rather exhausted from finishing off the last of the boxes. I need to find a location for my office and that’s going to be a challenge,” she admitted through a stiff, rolling sensation of her shoulders knowing the knots were clear as back in her back. In the upcoming week, she had lined up one too many tours of local offices for her Speech Pathology office, it was going to be something she was dreading but it would all be worth it in the end. Laughing softly at her father, she did agree with his words and how she hadn’t been doing well with taking care of herself. “Yeah, I’m guilty. I’ve just been so busy adjusting to the move and dealing with what’s going on with Vince and his case. I’m just….. I haven’t been taking care of myself.” Shamefully admitting, the shameful range of her tone soon matched and flushed upon her vibrant demeanor, knowing self-care was always the first tip to sanity. Every time Margaux de Beauvoir was mentioned, all the blonde could allow the vibrant state of illumination to consume her. The woman was the best grandmother that she could ever ask for. Always willing to be there for her, but importantly those that were important to her granddaughter. After all, she gave her only granddaughter the childhood house of the de Beauvoir ─ the same house her birthfather, Pierre, lived in. “You should. I think she’s coming back from France soon. Impromptu business trip but she’ll be happy to see you,” she answered through a child-like beam overtaking her petals and her usual enthusiastic tone. Margaux de Beauvoir was everyone’s saving grace. How grateful she was to be born into this family and have the face of the matriarchy as her grandmother.  Her hand resting upon the side of her chin, it was a mental note from the older parental figure about her mother and how touchy she got on the subject of Reina. Whilst the blonde only knew Reina briefly through minimal interactions, it baffled her slightly. “Why is it a touchy subject?” Genuinely questioning, tilting her head to the side knowing Jolie rarely followed with the drama and simply minded her only business. The last thing she would want to do was upset anyone ─ even if her relationship with Charity was far from healthy. A stutter guiding into her next words, “I never ask unless I am genuinely concerned, Dad.” Referencing to why it was a touchy subject but yet, she understood if he couldn’t disclose for any reason. Although, the news of Lourdes and the involvement of Cleo had caused a perk of subject change with the older sister at the moment. “Oh my god!” A shriek of cheerfulness darted off her prong effortlessly. All she could do was clap and feel relief that something was looking forward to the younger sibling. All she could do was be engulfed with contentment and being proud. “Honestly, that’s so amazing. Does she like it? Last time I saw Lourdes, she was glued to her phone but I am really happy for her. I know and remember Cleo from school. It’s no wonder that she pulled the connections to help Lourdes out.” Whenever Jolie had parted from Catalina fully, the other blonde in the Halliwell family had promised to take Lourdes underneath her wing. It was proven benefits at how Cleo was able to help out Lourdes and put her foot forward. Sometimes, well the majority of times, outsiders giving tough love helped when family failed. Still, all she could was be beaming. Even with the mention at Vince, the apple of her minimal applied blush brightened to a faint pink, biting on her lower lip. “Vince Cassidy but close,” she reassured immediately toward the father. Whilst he wanted to guess for himself, it was close enough for her to give him the guidance to know her boyfriend’s surname which more than recently, people got it mixed up with Cassie. Feeling bit restive, melting into her chair as now she was hugging herself in the topic of relationships wondering what Christian thought about Vince in their last encounter and if this decision for them to move in together was ideal. It had been well over a year since they had been together but it was a substantial change to all of Jolie’s boyfriends in the past. Clearing her throat, the next set of words were delicate and hesitant, “He’s the first boyfriend I’m moving in with…. so, I think…. that means it’s serious.” 

Before she was his daughter, Jolie had been Christian’s goddaughter. Her late father, Pierre De Beauvoir, had been nothing short of the man’s best friend since they were young boys. And looking at Jolie reminds Christian of him. It feels like yesterday that they lost him to an accident, with Christian having to pick the pieces up not only for his parents, but also for his widow and goddaughter. But Christian had mourned his best friend in secret, in the company of his office and his maps and globes, like he always did with a death in the family. Maybe it was some kind of super power, or just a case of luck that put the older man at the helm of things, no matter how much he just wanted to take a backseat and rest. But there was no rest, and he wondered if had ever been wicked in a past life. To assuage Pierre’s widow, he had decided to marry her within the year, simply because she had cried destitution, and had a young mouth to feed as well. And before they knew it, it had been a good twenty years of being married to Charity, and Jolie was nothing if not his own daughter. And if at all he needed to look back on his life to see the good things he had done, all he’d have to do was look for Jolie’s happiness in the crowd. When he met Pierre again, he’d be sure to tell his friend all about how well his daughter grew up. 

Holding onto Jolie was like holding onto memories; as she started to let go, there was little Christian could do to keep her in his embrace, without becoming the least bit teary eyed over it. She is so your daughter, Pierre. “Yeah? Instant coffee it is, then!” As he walks over to his little cubby, full of things objectively good for midnight snacking on the late nights he had to stay up for business meetings, he’s still talking as his hands are working. “Have you selected any locations? Or maybe narrowed the neighbourhood? I hear Avalon is a good place to open up an office space, especially this time of year. If you need any help, I can get in touch with a broker friend of mine. You remember the Meisners? Eddy’s actually in my poker club, and I’ll him to ask his daughter for those link ups.” While the water heated, he turned to face Jolie, nodding. “Okay, shoot me another problem. Let your father tackle those for you, because it’s the least he can do for the daughter he almost never sees. Maybe then you will have some space in your belly for some chilli corn carne! I made leftovers, and maybe we’ll invite the Halliwells for dinner too. I swear mija, don’t force me to force feed you everyday. Working from home means that I have all the time in the world, and your bedroom is still upstairs.” It was more of a joke than an actual threat, simply because for one, Jolie has never needed more than a simple nudge in the direction he wanted her to go in, and two, she was an adult and he couldn’t treat her like a child anymore. As much as he would have liked to, though. “Ahh I see. I swear, I tell her to take me with her to Paris, but I feel like she just doesn’t love me enough to take me with her. It’s like ma petite macaron just doesn’t consider me her macaroon anymore. Nah, I kid of course. I will definitely drop by when she comes back.” Bringing over the hot mug for Jolie, he sets it before her and smiles. “Drink up. And your mother will be gone a while. I don’t really know what the deal is, but maybe...maybe your mother is finally learning to make friends again.” He shrugs, lips pursed in a straight line as he sighs. 

Shaking his head when he hears the fear creep in the blonde’s voice, he raises his hand to dash any of her fears. “Jolie, it’s alright. I just mean that...” He sighs, feeling rather awkward discussing his friendship with Reina, even though they were the furthest things from friends, but not quite sure what they were. “Charity and Reina have been like...two bulls locking horns. They are very similar in temper, and I suppose your mother is just...” Christian hates talking about Charity in that way, an implied negativity that came from years of being jaded by their marriage. He had loved and respected her once upon a time, but twenty years takes a toll on anyone, and maybe it wasn’t that grand of a secret that their marriage had been suffering for a while. How is he supposed to tell Jolie any of this? He knows Lourdes’s reaction will be to fly off the handle and scream and curse her lungs out. And he can envision Jolie’s tears, her running away to Margaux. These were fears that kept him up at night, everytime he thought of leaving Charity. “insecure. The Rhodes moved in five years ago, and every time they squabble, it feels like the end of the world. So maybe complimenting Reina before Charity is something to be left to the people who can handle her temper best. Like...your sister. Or Evelyn. God, maybe even Claire could handle that tantrum better than you or me.”  

“I’m sorry mija...” The man apologized sheepishly for the mistaken name. “Lourdes has called him so many things, I almost called him Jared Faulkner, even though I’m pretty sure it was just that one finding two names in her little phone and pulling her old man’s legs. That chiquita has gotten me good so many times now...” Christian could ramble on about all the ways in which Lourdes pranks him, but it’s a well known fact that Lourdes is a free spirit. And of course Christian loves his youngest daughter, but keeping up with her is exhausting. This though? It’s a change of scene he much appreciates. Their languid conversations, sitting informally over tables and curled up in chairs, catching up all the things they had missed out on. “But yeah, Cleo did that for her, and I think it’s teaching her some responsibility. The kids are very good, so well behaved for their age, in fact. I feel like Reina’s just going easy on her, but you didn’t hear that from me, my dear.” He winked, sealing their little secret between them. The blush creeping in Jolie’s cheeks when she talked about Vince Cassidy made his heart warm; she, of all people, deserved to be loved and cared for, and if she says she’s found herself a man like that, he will believe it. “Well, whenever your man is in town, tell him your old man wants to see him. You know, give him the good old shake down, spout something about casual violence for breaking your heart and all that good stuff....I’m kidding, mija.” 

[christianhowcrd]

REINA RHODES‌:

Her shoulders stiffen when she feels Christian put his jacket around her, the unexpected gesture taking her by surprise. It’s downright gentlemanly, which is something Reina never experiences thanks to her bonehead husband and his lack of manners or, really, anything that could make him a decent human being. So of course, since she doesn’t know any better, Reina’s a little put off by it. “You’re never gonna stop doing shit for me that I didn’t ask you to do, are you?” It’s once again slightly annoying, but she still finds herself wrapping the jacket around her just that much tighter, and moving just that much closer to him as she stands and watches the sea below them. This must be a dream for him, Reina can’t help but think to herself. He loves the ocean and they’ve been on so many fucking boats throughout this trip that she wouldn’t be surprised if he eventually manages to hijack one of them and take it for a spin on his own at some point. The thought puts her at ease just slightly, because if anyone deserves some peace after the night they’ve just had it’s Christian, and she knows he’d enjoy that. For a moment she lets herself think about how nice it’d be for both of them to go out on a boat one day, no distractions, but she knows with both of their spouses around that’d be next to impossible to make happen. Still, it’s nice to think about.

She’s snapped out of her little fantasy when he brings up the vodka yet again, and Reina shakes her head in disbelief at his antics, a small smile threatening to break through her rigidity. Trust Christian to be able to do that with one stupid fucking joke, even if it doesn’t last long. The surprise she catches on his face when she looks up at him is honestly hilarious, but his real justification for what he did for her has Reina cocking her head. “Right.” Friends. A word they keep using even though it’s far from the truth, something Reina’s finding herself coming to terms with more and more as time goes on. They aren’t friends; friends don’t act the way they do around each other, and although they’ve toed the line before they’ve never actually had the balls to even hint at that being the case. However, the combination of wine and vacation and the fight she just got into has Reina feeling more brave about broaching the subject than usual. “And that’s what friends do? Swoop in and go against their wives to save me and the vodka?”

For a moment, Christian hesitates. Did his chivalry come across as flirting, and was it making Reina uncomfortable? But she drew the jacket closer to herself, and he sighed in relief, letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in. He chuckles, a smile on his face growing as the woman beside him complains about something that frankly, Christian will take in stride as a joke. Placing his own hands in his pockets, he looks back out into the open sea, waiting for Reina to say something. The silence was replaced by the noise of the waves, stretching across the length of the beach. St. Barts was a beautiful island, and the fact that he couldn’t sail these waters yet was a damn shame. But there is still enough days in their trip for him to nicely coerce a captain to let him at it. After all, he didn’t like to think that time was limited, because what was the point in being a pessimist over that? “Uhh...the weather, am I right? The sea looks really good tonight. A little choppy, but hey, that’s the seven seas for ya...” He took his hand out of his pocket, running it through his hair as he awkwardly waited for something to say. 

Watching Reina crack a smile over the vodka joke feels like a big accomplishment to the man, as he awkwardly rubs his hand on the back of his neck, smiling back at her. “Uhh, I...I guess so? I mean, that’s what I do for all my friends. But my best friends, I...they...let’s just say I would have left them to flounder.” Maybe that wasn’t what would convince her though, that he was trying to just befriend her. Even though Reina made Christian feel different, like that feeling of being young and in love, of having something to look forward to everyday; it was wrong and he was wrong to feel that way about someone who wasn’t his wife. And who was very clearly married to another man, even though he is nowhere to be seen when she needed him the most. “But, my mother didn’t raise a scoundrel, so I cannot leave a lady high and dry, you see. Speaking of which, we should...probably get back inside. Something tells me someone’s already cracking a whip in there for our return.” 

[christianhowcrd]

REINA RHODES:

Reina tries to ignore the way blood rushes to her face when Christian calls her something as simple as sweetheart, like she’s fucking fifteen again and not a forty year old woman with a husband and children and a life that doesn’t involve him, and she lets out a scoff to cover up her humiliation, rolling her eyes at the mere thought of going back inside. “Well, they can wait. I’m not going back in there right now.” There’s still this awkwardness between them, a feeling Reina just can’t shake no matter how much she tries, and she’s annoyed her cigarettes are inside her bag at the table because she could desperately use one. Instead she just stands there, rubbing the goosebumps off of her upper arms despite the fact that it’s not even remotely chilly outside. She takes a beat, perfectly content to stand in silence if that’s what it takes to keep them at a level of normalcy, but eventually her pride gets the best of her. “I had it handled,” she reiterates, her strange need to let him know that everything would’ve been fine without him showing its face once again. 

Truthfully, though, his interference had made things easier on her and while Reina’s often too proud to admit something like that, she doesn’t want Christian to think she’s angry at him. Being irritated is one thing but pure anger is another, and deep down she knows he’d only been trying to help her. “I do appreciate it, and I appreciate what you were trying to do. Those women are just so fucking neurotic.” His wife being among the worst of them, but Reina doesn’t voice that aloud for fear of looking jealous — even though she is and she knows it, despite it being painful for her to admit. “Just — I’m still annoyed, but—” Heaving a sigh, she looks at him briefly before her gaze turns back to the scenery below them, as it isn’t exactly in her wheelhouse to show gratitude to anyone and she can’t help but avoid eye contact. “Thank you.”

Christian nods in understand, swallowing whatever words he was going to say to Reina. It’s not an easy situation to sit through, and Lord knows she’s been a strong woman, and he admires that about her. Noticing the shiver and her hands on her forearms, without any thought, the man shrugs off his own coat; it wasn’t the thickest thing, but it was polite for dinner and in the moment, it was better than just shivering. He closed the distance between them, placing the coat upon stiff shoulders. “It’s looking like a cold night....” His sailor’s intuition had never failed him when it came to weather, and maybe this was his way of navigating through Reina’s sudden outburst of emotions. 

The rest of her explanation was unnecessary for him; Christian had long ago resigned to the fact that he would never understand women. Maybe his mother and sisters were cut of different cloth, or maybe Charity was what they called high maintenance. But the man didn’t mind, he had learned to accept her outbursts for what they were, and even Reina’s chilliness doesn’t phase him. But the stark difference wasn’t lost on him; his wife would never apologize or acknowledge her cold snappiness. But Reina did. Even though she didn’t have to, she still acknowledged it and...---and nothing. Christian knew it was wrong to keep drawing comparisons like that, but there is a part of him that wants out. He looks at Reina and he’d be lying if there wasn’t a part of him that cared about her, more than just their platonic interactions. “They were wasting precious vodka. Call me a connoisseur if you must, but I respect alcohol. It keeps me sane through...some intense things in life.” The man is ready to just joke till the brunette before him cracked a smile almost. But the thank you catches him off guard, and he looks surprised before he is able to wipe it off his face. “You’re---uhh, you don’t have to---umm...” He stumbles through his words, shaking his head. “Don’t mention it, Reina. We’re friends.” 

[christianhowcrd]

ROWAN THANE‌:

closed for @christianhowcrd​​ location: some restaurant in st. barts time: mid afternoon

Rowan has never really been sure what to think when Christian is involved. He’s a good guy and this much she knows — and once upon a time she had watched him and her sister together and thought that there could be something there, but now that Jason is back in the picture (and Christian still has his wedding ring on his finger) that all seems to have been a fever dream. Regardless, Reina and Christian still spend a good amount of time together and are, apparently, friends — and while Rowan would love to just take it at face value and accept the fact that Christian is a genuinely good guy, in her experience those don’t come around very often and since he’s married to someone who is arguably certifiable… she can’t help her suspicions. Which maybe makes her just as insane as the aforementioned, but that’s besides the point. They’ve been at the restaurant a few minutes already, menus in hand and she’s thankful there’s a generously filled glass of white wine in front of her. “You havin’ fun?” She asks, glancing up over the menu at Christian with a polite smile and a raise of her eyebrow. “This trip is… something.” Which feels like a safe answer. At least no one has gotten murdered yet.

This trip has certainly been quite fun. St. Barts is a beautiful vacation spot, a beautiful island and a marvelous dockside that he’s been meaning to take advantage of. But sitting here, at a seafood place by the coast, Christian will say his lunch companion was a surprising, yet entertaining one. His and Andy’s friendship ran well and deep, and it was only fair that Christian extend that friendship to his wife. Besides, it’s been fun so far, since they both decided their culinary tastes matched, as did their wine pairings. “I’m having loads of fun, actually. I asked one of the captains if we could take his boat for a spin, and he said when the weather stops turnin’, because apparently the seas are unpredictable? My old man bones are doing okay, so I don’t know what he was talking about.” He chuckled at his own joke, trying to break the ice. “Have you been havin’ fun? Lots to do here. Have you been before?” 

[christianhowcrd]

REINA RHODES‌:

CLOSED / @christianhowcrd​ LOCATION: Bistro at the Atwater TIME: like 8pm or something idk

Reina fully expects a shouting match to occur at the dinner she’s been summoned to for filming purposes, and so when the Housewives and their husbands all sit down and get settled, it’s no surprise that things go South fairly quickly. Her own husband is away on business, as usual, so she’s left to fend for herself (not that Jason would be much help anyway), but Reina doesn’t mind. She’s good at holding her own against these women and it shows in the way she managed to easily combat the verbal sparring they were all throwing at each other. Once it got particularly nasty, however, Reina could feel her blood pressure rising, and it took everything in her not to start throwing punches in every which direction. Her temper hasn’t gotten that bad in a while but for some reason with these women, it’s impossible for her not to become easily enraged. She supposes that’s why she’s on a television show like this, it’s the reason they’re all there in the first place. Her only saving grace comes in the form of Christian and his own temper, which is admittedly much less volatile than Reina’s is. 

Once they’re all simmered down she somehow manages to get ahold of herself, but everyone’s decided they need a break and Reina doesn’t hesitate to take one as well, stalking over to an abandoned balcony right off the main dining room in order to give herself a moment to breathe. Out of sight, out of mind — and she desperately needs a minute to herself, although that minute is short lived. She feels Christian’s presence before she sees him and she wonders what it means that she’s so attuned to him when they’re just friends, but she quickly disregards the thought as soon as it comes. She’s annoyed at him, and that trumps any gratitude she might be feeling. Despite the fact that he’d stood up for her and effectively shut down the brawl that was about to start, Reina doesn’t need any man to fight her battles for her. “You didn’t need to get involved like that.”

Even before the filming crews and the cameras, Christian always knew that these women were capable of terrible things. He doesn’t mean it in an unpleasant way, of course. He just means that they are bored, and when they get drunk, they get nasty. He, like the other husbands, always preferred to just sit back and pretend like their wives weren’t going to douse each other in gasoline at any second. But this time he had had enough. Christian’s anger had always been the quiet kind, a rumbling beneath the surface and an eerily cold tone replacing the usual warmth he held in his candor. He had said something not wasting precious Moscow Mule, and instantly he meets the fiery lashes of the other women, but he could care less. He lets the anger go, trying his best to smooth things over with everyone else in there. 

It had been a break between main course and dessert, when the man decided he needed a smoke break, despite him never having a pack or a lighter on his person. Christian didn’t smoke unless it was a cigar, and that was also only for the special occasions. No, he was going out into the balcony to see if Reina was okay. If she asked, he just wanted to make sure she didn’t make a quick getaway. But she starts talking and he sighs, stopping his steps behind her. “...I’m not one to waste precious vodka, sweetheart.” But she’s right; he didn’t have to get involved. But he did. “I...they’re asking for you back there again.” 

[christianhowcrd]

REINA RHODES‌:

I’m always right, Reina wants to inform him, but now doesn’t seem like the time and she’s just glad Christian hasn’t decided to argue with her. His concern for her wellbeing has her uncomfortable, though, and she narrows her eyes when asked if she’s alright for the second time. “I said I’m fine. No I don’t need to sit down, good God. I’m not a child, Christian, I can handle a little fall.” She clears her throat then, uncomfortable with how the air has shifted between them — not only now, but it feels like there’s a permanent change every time she realizes they’re not acting like two people who are married should be acting with each other. Reina didn’t give one fuck about it before but things are different now, they’re on camera during the majority of their time together and she’s not really interested in getting screamed at by her husband for being too friendly with Christian, but at the same time that doesn’t mean she has to act like a complete bitch to him either. Just the tiniest bit of guilt begins to settle over her as she realizes she’d been a bit too snappy to him — it’s not his fault she’s paranoid as hell, and for all she knows he thinks there’s absolutely nothing going on between them — so she lets her shoulders fall and tucks her hair behind her ears as she forces herself to take a fucking chill pill and be a normal human being to him instead of a crazy woman. “Thank you. For catching me. You’re right, I would’ve bruised my ass and you would’ve had to hear me bitch and moan until you took pity on me and got me some ice or something.” In reality Reina probably would have sucked it up and dealt with any pain she felt, never one to show vulnerability to anyone even in the case of a bruised ass, but this is her attempt at keeping things light between them.

“For a fall like that, I would have had to take you to the emergency room, Reina. You should have seen Pierre’s skull, we honestly thought he was a goner...” Christian’s ramble down memory lane was always a sad one. It had been years since his best friend had passed away, and talking about him now made that ache more pronounced. In lieu of everything, he sometimes wonders what life could have been if he was still around. But it’s not the time to dwell on memories, and he brushes his hands against each other, as if to wipe off the evidence that he had ever held Reina in his arms, regardless of the context. He understands being snapped at; maybe the women in his life think he needs to be told in curt sentences what to do and how to do it. And he doesn’t mind it, at all. “So, about the rest of the boxes. How about I do the heavy lifting from the top and you could handle the ones at the bottom? I see a box of books and don’t mind if I take a peek in those...” 

FIN

[christianhowcrd]

REINA RHODES‌:

For a good few seconds Reina is fully prepared to fall flat on her ass, despite how embarrassing that would be. It’s inevitable, and even though she hates feeling like an idiot, at least Christian’s the only one who would bear witness to her mishap. However, the inevitable never comes and she somehow finds herself upright despite losing her footing, and it takes Reina a little too long to realize Christian’s arms are what kept her from making an idiot of herself. It feels like everything’s frozen for a moment, she’s got her hands resting on his chest as a way to keep herself balanced as she just stares at him, dumbfounded, looking like a complete fucking idiot until finally her brain starts working again and she pushes herself away from him. “Don’t—” Don’t touch me, is what she’d been meaning to say, the harsh statement almost too easily slipping off her tongue. But Reina catches herself at the last second, not wanting to make Christian feel like he’d done something wrong. Because he hadn’t. They hadn’t. He’d simply been making sure she wasn’t going to fall, that’s all. “I’m fine.” A little shaken — maybe not entirely due to her near accident, but Reina won’t admit that — but fine. Immediately, she’s looking out the windows and anywhere else someone could be lurking to make sure no one spotted them. “You can’t do that. People on this island love to run their mouths, you know that. If anyone saw that, it’d be everywhere. Look what happened to Miles and his… whatever the hell she is.” Cleo, her brain supplies, as if she hasn’t known and been close to the woman for five years now, but Reina’s too frazzled to put that all together at the moment.

If Christian had been an unfaithful man, he would have taken advantage of the situation. After all, a damsel in distress, and he was basically her knight in shining armour. But that wasn’t who he was; Reina was married, as was Christian. They had spouses, and families, and lives they had lived before they met each other. To risk it for something Christian was sure was just a fluke, it wouldn’t do. He lets her down easy, and watches her look through her windows like a crazed woman. He’s reminded of Charity, and how careful she tends to be about how they look from the outside too. “You...you were going to fall, straight on your ass. And these floors aren’t friendly on the bones. I know ‘cause I’ve been there too.” He wanted to try and lighten the mood, as if him saving a friend had cheapened that bond between them. But he’s pretty sure Reina doesn’t want to hear about the skull fracture at fifteen when him and Pierre were playing tag in Margaux’s estate. “....Right. You make some fair points, Reina.” He didn’t know how to refute it, so he let her just make the assumptions, and nodded along. “Are you alright though? Do you need to sit down, sweetheart?” 

[christianhowcrd]

JASON RHODES‌:

“So I said, ‘if you’ve got a problem, buddy, you can leave, ‘cause this is my goddamn bar’ and then he said, ‘actually, I do got a problem’ and then, uh —” Jason smirks as he takes a gulp of his whiskey, recalling the memory of how he’d beat the shit out of that pompous asshole with ease. “Let’s just say he didn’t come back again. Anyway, I ain’t allowed to do that anymore.”

“I wonder why, buddy...” Christian had popped by here for a drink and to meet some business associates, people he hadn’t talked to in a while who decided to come down to Catalina Island for the views. Hearing Jason Rhodes speak rubbed him the wrong way, in so many unexplainable ways. Maybe it was the casual mention of violence that set Christian on edge, or perhaps it was those latent feelings he wasn’t going to admit to. “You give every patron a warm welcome like that, or was he a special one?” 

[christianhowcrd]

JOLIE DE BEAVOIR:

special delivery for ; @christianhowcrd​​

location ; the howard residency

date & time ; february 30th at 12:30pm

Teetering into The Howard Residency in Avalon used to be more bitter than sweet from the brawny recollection of the girl. It was not only her childhood home but the place she frequently avoided if her father, Christian, wanted to meet up with her due to the elusion of her mother, Charity. This time around everything felt different. Perhaps, it was because Jolie was moving here with her long-term boyfriend, Vince, and the new work opportunity was something she could not pass up. While she adjusted much of the past year for Vince, they agreed upon making this work and allow the change tides to bring them here. Or for Jolie, back to her hometown again. The past couple of weeks had been consumed with unpacking and bringing life again to the de Beauvoir household ─ the one her grandparents, Margaux and Blaise, established their family to this growth of wealth community. Now, it was her own. There was plenty for her to do and many of faces to see but holding off another day on visiting her father, Christian, the man who came into her life at six years old and happened to be the best birthday gift a girl could ever receive. After all, while she didn’t share this with anyone, on her fourth birthday, right as she was blowing out the candles and she wished for a father. Two years later, there he was and watching her grow into the woman that Jolie was currently.

“Dad?” The echo of her inquisitive tone bounced off the oddly bare walls. Wandering further in her search, only to find the door to his office cracked open. It was an instant sign and made her head in that direction. Peeping her head through the door, the upturn of her beam greeted him with her twinkling seafoam hues, “Hey, Dad. Sorry, hopefully, I’m not interpreting anything but I wanted to finally stop on by inside of making you come my way.” After all, being absorbed in what was currently unfolding for herself was thrilling, Jolie was far from the selfish type. Always feeling guilty if she had to focus on herself rather than others and building them up. “I spoke to Grandma Margaux a couple of days ago. She sends her best regards and will bring you back to the biggest present ever. As well, you know how Grandma is, but she made me deliver a present to Mrs. Rhodes,” she politely informed. “She’s gorgeous. Seriously, lucky husband, she must have.” It was random chatter but it allowed her to enter further into the familiar office. Approaching him behind his desk as she embraced the father with a bear hug, grateful to be back with Lourdes and him once again.

“Door’s open, come inside mija! Mindful of the carpet, please.” Christian was sat at his desk, working on crafting some office memos and emails when he heard the familiar voice of his oldest daughter. While he didn’t admit to it, the man was attuned to the footsteps of the other occupants of this house; of Charity’s Louboutins making their way through familiar rooms, of Lourdes’s louder than life presence and how the whole house moves with her, and of Jolie’s, who was soft and the complete opposite of everything this family was. He turned in his chair, a warm smile on his face when he saw her peeking in. “Come inside already, Jolie! I can assure you, your mother’s not here. I think she’s at lunch with Claire. You remember Claire and Topher, our neighbours?”

He then proceeded to close all his windows, because the memos could wait, but time with his daughter could not. Standing up from his desk, he stretched, and then walked towards Jolie to embrace her in a warm hug. The peace he felt within him as he held onto his mija was priceless, as if his worries had begun to melt away, and all the things that keep him awake have been put to bed. Reluctantly letting go of her, he nodded. “Sit, sit. Can I get you something to eat? Drink? We’ve got...” He looked at the portable trolley on the other side of the office, “instant coffee, some whiskey and I think a juice box. Or a LaCroix. And for edibles, I think it’s just tea biscuits. But there’s leftovers in the fridge that I can heat up. You really should start eating more, mija. Look at you, all skin and bones.” At the mention of Margaux De Beauvoir, his smile only grows. “I hope ma petite macaroon is doing alright. I haven’t seen here since the Founders’ Day Ball, and I really should pay her a visit, no?” Even though Christian wasn’t her son, Margaux was the closest thing to a mother figure he had since his own parents’ passing. And when Jolie talks about Reina, he nods again. “She’s great, Reina is. Don’t tell your mother about that though, she gets a little touchy about her.” He was saddened by the words he spoke, having to warn his own daughter about her mother’s jealousy. “But they’re great neighbours, I can assure you that much. Did you know, Evelyn’s daughter Cleo got Lourdes a job as the Rhodes’s nanny? Lourdes, and a job! Seriously...” He shakes his head in mild incredulation, finally seating himself on the edge of his office table. “Now tell me mija, how have you been? And where is that man of yours, Vince...Cassie? No, no, don’t tell me, I know I’m close.” 

[christianhowcrd]

REINA RHODES‌:

“Do they say that?” The ghost of a smile plays on Reina’s lips as she teases him. Christian always does shit like this, talks like he’s writing the next Shakespearian fucking masterpiece, and even though Reina finds it completely absurd she doesn’t ever find herself annoyed like she once thought she might. If anything, it’s amusing. “The ocean can be unpredictable too. With storms and things,” she contradicts, cocking an eyebrow at him before she moves behind him to pull another box from a shelf. “Although, I guess you’re more experienced with that.” This is normal, the easy conversation and the back and forth they often have. He’s such an easy person for her to talk to and she needs that, honestly, with the shit show her life can sometimes seem like. She’s so caught up in her thoughts that Reina doesn’t realize she doesn’t have quite as good a grip on the box she’s grabbing as as she thinks she does, and before she knows it she’s struggling to keep things steady. “Oh, fuck.” Her words come too little too late, as a box falls to the ground from above her, then another, and it’s such a tight squeeze between her, Christian, and the shelves that she can’t stop herself from losing her footing.

Christian ponders on the statement, nodding along to it as he’s moving boxes alongside her. “You guessed correctly. Sailing was the only thing my old man and I had in common, and when he passed, I...I guess it’s always been my safe place. Even in a storm, I know I’ll be alright. If I die, it’s because I meddled with forces I shouldn’t have.” He shrugged, setting the box right outside, before coming back for another one. It was in that moment, that he instinctually plants his feet on the ground, as cardboard and knick knacks rain around them. He catches Reina in his arms, as if by sheer luck that she’s right here and the moment feels a bit too comfortable, and for a minute, Christian forgets that he’s not a young man holding his leading lady from her certain doom on the train tracks. “You...you alright there, sweetheart? Really could have taken a nasty tumble there...” The man has yet to make a move about letting her down though, so enamoured he is by her. 

[christianhowcrd]

ANDREW THANE:

There’s a laugh that comes with the man’s words, a smirk following. He’s sure the other man will probably regret the decision to play street hockey with him. “If you say so, man. S’kinda rough playin’ goalie without knee pads. But if you insist…” He laughs lightly at his own words, lining up the shot. “Your funeral, Howard.” He ends with, raising his stick for a slap shot.. 

“I mean, I haven’t played hockey since college, and even then I did for the ladies more than my own enjoyment. Maybe it is...” Christian had to trail off, trying to concentrate on the slap shot that he knew he wasn’t equipped to handle. “Okay, I’m ready Thane. Hit me with your worst shot.” 

[christianhowcrd]

CHARITY HOWARD‌:

Smoothing out the creases of her dress, admiring the way the garment shaped around her body, Charity was slightly startled to hear her husband’s voice echoing into the room. Her smile faltered nevertheless, although it recovered quickly as she spoke. “You like? It’s a new dress,” The blonde twirled in a circle of moment, before finally turning to face Christian. “I thought I’ve already stolen one person’s heart already,” She stared at him pointedly, as she slowly approached him across the room. She knew she was hardly the dutiful wife, and the man standing before her was hardly someone she recognised anymore. But still, she was keeping up the charade, because there was no way in hell she was going to break her facade first. “You know, I got to look my best for this show after all. Do you think I’m looking my best?” 

Truth be told, coming back to his marriage felt like an elaborate game of Charades. They were pantomiming a perfect family, with their two loving daughters and a life worth envying. And for the last twenty four and a half years, Christian played his part as best as he could. But he was no actor, and it was only so long before this facade broke his back. “Honestly honey, some days I wonder if it was my heart, because I look nothing like the guy in the wedding photos.” He kidded, pointing to the aforementioned picture on the wall. “You look your best. You know you always do, Charity.” No affectionate pet names, no gesture of affection. But he did look her up and down, pretending like he cared about the dress (Christian didn’t know anything about dresses, despite all the women in his life), and nodded approvingly. “You’re gonna kill it out there, darling. I know it.” 

[christianhowcrd]

[christianhowcrd]

[christianhowcrd]

Oscar Isaac in Won’t Back Down (2012) dir. Daniel Barnz

[christianhowcrd]

CLEO HALLIWELL:

Silked baby blue orbs weaved into a familiar tucking and roll sensation toward Christian as a scoff soon followed suit afterward. He was always one to think further into the point that was presented in their conversation. Typical Christian, Cleo had deliberated. Instead of letting her words be the point of context, knowledge fell of the prong in each one of their discussions. The blonde said one thing. His fatherly motion always coursed at the moment. At least he proved to be a father figure in comparison to the mute, lifeless golddigger by the name of Arthur Halliwell. An ounce of her wondered how her father was coping with the envision of the reality show in the household but then again, she didn’t care. Just like Arthur cared to bond with his eloquent, gashing with brutal honesty, of a daughter. Then again, it didn’t consume her to the slightest seeing how the other sisters received minimal treatment. At least they had football as a conversation starter. “Not with me, Christian.” The usual gashing, yet razor-sharp tone made a clear entrance as a singular hand of her slammed against the countertop with no injury stampeding through the hand veins. Whilst a conceited, yet self-assuring beam rose upon her mouth corners, “People think just because I’m small ─ which is wrong and offensive considering I’m 5′4″ ─ that they could baby me.” A fleeting pause inserts the moment for emphasis. Not for the other’s words or input. Only to allow an obnoxious ‘wrong’ to dart off her silvery, oddly welcoming tone of range that was often picked apart as nails on a chalkboard by her enemies in past. “I hate when people doubt me. I can run fucking laps around half of the men in these high power of positions and make the numbers only to be let down because I’m a woman. I will keep fighting. I will be the best and baddest bitch in this entire world.” Ranting off on a tangent, the passion immensely laced throughout each of her words. No one would step in her way or deem she was not capable of holding a position of power. Cleo Halliwell could do anything she wanted to put her mind to. Letting the last ounce of her tangent fade away, a hand-cut swiftly through the oxygen to prove that she was finished, letting the air consume her lungs. “Briefly,” she acknowledged in a civilized tone. Typically, the woman would’ve found it in her nature to be all over these producers and testing their ability. Unfortunately, she had been preoccupied with other measures. “I’ll make sure to give them a warm welcome.” Just like that, a guileful thought fell upon her plump petals. A light flickered. Thoughts were rattling and becoming her best friend. She’ll grace them with wide arms in her Cleo fashion. As long as it had a reason to benefit her. “Cracker?” Repeating, a vaulted brow in concern shot up towards him. “Are you sure you want to use that word?” Every part of her wondered if Christian knew what he was saying half of the time when attempting to use the millennial slang. It was proven that his age was showing each and every time they hung out together. Leaning her petite frame against the stool’s back, an authentic beam and a glow rose upon the inch of her overlay. Only a few could dismantle the truth interlaced in the next words, “Fucking fabulous. Nothing for me to complain about. I’m just living life and loving it.” 

What could Christian even say? He was always a father, even when he didn’t have his own children, way before he was even thinking of marriage. He had always been a third parent with his siblings, and with his peers he was always the guy looking out for everyone. It was always his thing, and it would be no different from when Cleo would come up with these outlandish claims of people trying to get with her money. He would never understand that lifestyle, and a part of him didn’t care to, either. He was sat on his stool, hand resting on his chin as the blonde woman talked, nodding and hmm-ing when it seemed appropriate. He thought he had almost missed his cue to reply, opening his mouth only to close it again in the wake of Cleo picking her spiel back up. “Yes queen, yes, you’re gonna slay those men....---okay I’m going to drop the lingo. It just feels so off, doesn’t it?” He smiled for a moment, a laughter trapped in his breath as he sighed. “I believe in you, my dear. Honestly, I have always said that the future is female, and not only because of Hillary Clinton. You go get ‘em, tiger.” He leaned in to tap his fist against her forearm, in a attaboy fashion. “You want a slice, Cleo? I made extras, and I think you’re going to like this one much better than last Thanksgiving’s.” He didn’t wait for her response, getting up to find himself the accouterments with which to slice and serve his pseudo niece some pie. Bringing back a plate and his tools, he chuckled at Cleo’s incredulousness. “I’m afraid that’s 90′s surfer buddy talk, dear. Lourdes had nothing to do with this one. But is it offensive? I really can’t tell these days, but it’s always good to stay on top of that stuff.” Pushing the plate of pie, decorated with a fork, he waited for the woman to take a bite and test it for him. “Just fabulous? Are you going to treat this old man the same way you do your Twitter audience?”