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"No strings, though maybe if you don't want to lose your rent, just don't bet it all against a girl who bats her eyelashes and swears she won't be upset if she loses," she teased with a quick wink, and then the facade dissolved. Shoulders rounded and her posture loosened, the act disappearing as she slid into the comfort of her own skin, the mask no longer necessary for the remainder of the evening. She ordered herself a bourbon, then gestured towards the other's drink to grab him a new one as well. Once the bartender returned, Elena took a long pull from her glass and hummed contently, slouching slightly with and elbow on the bar and her chin in their hand. "I don't fleece people who can't afford it," she said, then tipped her head slightly towards the booth where her marks had gone to sulk. "Those assholes could afford it."

Staying in his own lane was far easier without the rest of the gang loitering about. Where Zane could slink into the shadows, blend in with the crowd, and feign a menial life rather than one where he felt scrutinized at every turn. Or perhaps that was a projection of his internal judgement and distaste. Regardless, he kept a low profile at the bar and watched in quiet observation as some woman conned a poor sap out of practically everything in his wallet–– and then she promptly perched herself next to him on a stool, clutching her earnings with a death grip that he wouldn't blame her for. "It depends," he eyed her warily before dropping his gaze to her fist, "are there strings attached? Because I can't afford to lose my rent like the other guy."

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If he liked a challenge, then this would perhaps be his most difficult one yet by her reckoning. He leaned close, words ghosting her ear in a way that made her tilt her head slightly, the line of her neck lengthening with the movement as she listened with that same comfortable grin set on her lips. She hummed a noncommittal note, ring finger tracing a light, idle path on the rim of her bourbon. Confidence rolled from him in waves, each movement and word deliberate, a hook and line with the express purpose of pulling her to a desired end. Elena could play that game.

"Okay, sure," she said finally, gaze flicking from his mouth and back to his eyes as she took another quick sip of her drink, "What are you dying to know? You clearly watched me with the darts." Her finger drummed on the bar, a mirror to the way she liked to twirl one of the tiny objects between her fingers not unlike a conman with a coin. In another life, perhaps she'd have been just as gifted with sleight of hand, though she'd certainly taken up a life of smoke and mirrors to some degree. "I'm also quite good with a billiards cue," she added as her tongue pressed briefly into her cheek, eyes alight with something mischievous. "Or is that what you want? Just to watch again?"

Rafael smirked, his confidence settling into every corner of his posture as he leaned in slightly, his presence radiating a magnetic pull that matched Elena’s own. The air between them crackled with a mix of challenge and undeniable chemistry, but he wasn’t about to let her believe for a second that she had the upper hand. Not tonight. He let her words settle, the playful edge in her voice only feeding the fire that always burned hot within him. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached for his drink, bringing it to his lips but never breaking eye contact, a slight smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth.

��Hard-won secrets, huh?” He chuckled low, his voice a mixture of amusement and something far more dangerous, like he was already imagining what those secrets might be—and how much fun it would be to uncover them. “I like a challenge; I don’t back down from one.” His tone was teasing but underpinned by a raw intensity that suggested he meant every word.

He tilted his head, watching her closely as he took a sip of his drink, savoring the burn of the liquor before setting the glass down on the bar with a casual yet purposeful gesture. His body was leaned in just enough to invade her space, but not too much—just enough to make sure she knew that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Keep up?” he said, his voice dropping an octave, almost a purr. “I don’t think you realize who you're dealing with.” He leaned in a little closer, his breath brushing against her ear. “But by all means, try me. I’ve got a feeling you’ll need more than just your secrets to keep me at bay.” There was something daring in his eyes, a challenge she could take or leave, but one he knew she wouldn’t easily back down from. The game was on, and Rafael was more than ready to play.

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location: golden sands beach tag: @dispitcous Tatiana Uche

For the entirety of her career, Breslin made an awful habit of working far too late to the point of running herself ragged, and apparently she'd yet to break the habit. She recalled something her father said to her constantly, that if she didn't let herself take a break, her body would take one for her. He'd meant it in terms of her health, but that was exactly what happened. What began as a quick break taken on the couch in her office to text her wife turned into a dead-to-the-world six hour nap where she awoke slightly delirious and a touch angry with herself for allowing this to happen.

Instead of going home, however, she went to the beach and parked herself in the sand, legs folded, as early morning light began to gild the clouds with the very beginnings of a sunrise. The sound of sand shifting under feet caught her attention and she turned, squinting slightly in the low light. No one she recognized, but her position meant other people usually did.

"You're pretty quiet," she said, "Almost didn't hear you over the water."

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The sound of her friend's voice went practically unheard as Yeva bounded into the kitchen, and Breslin laughed as she scooped her up and propped her onto her hip. "Hi sweetheart," she greeted as she pressed a quick kiss to her temple. "Your mom did leave the door unlocked. Good thing the only intruder came with a blueberry muffin for later," she continued as Ambrosia entered the kitchen, then gave her goddaughter another quick squeeze before she put her down and let her run off to her bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, Breslin dropped into the nearest chair and pushed one of the paper cups of coffee closer to her friend, then took the other for herself. It was a rare treat to simply spend unplanned time together, especially in a positive situation. Lately it seemed like the only time they really saw each other was when someone died violently--an unfortunate occupational hazard for the both of them. "I think I remembered how you take it," she said, glancing at the other coffee. "Anything interesting happening on your end?"

Ambrosia was equipped to handle most things under pressure, but some things fell through the crack. Sometimes she could be absent minded, when she heard the front door open her body tensed. She even paused doing her daughter's hair to retrieve her firearm while remaining silent. A finger over her lips, until the familiar voice rang out through the house. Ambra locked the firearm, and finished the ponytail in her daughter's hair as the child bounded past her. "I'll be out in a minute!" She called belatedly as Yeva darted with the quick reflexes of a three-year-old to greet her godmother with a fit of giggles. Her son had spent the night at a friend's house, even though she still wasn't sure that was a good idea.

"Damn, did I really leave the door unlocked?" She called out to her friend as she entered into the kitchen. A smile formed across her lips, "Well this is a whole lot better than the i'm alive texts." She sauntered over to pull her into a hug. "Shocking we both have time. Yeva dear, go play in your room."

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The quick placation from the other woman prompted a short laugh as Breslin shook her head and held up her hands in appeasement, hoping to calm Chloe somewhat. "Breslin is fine, I think we're probably on a first name basis at least while we're in a coffee shop," she said, smile still bright. Though people certainly referred to her by her title while she was district attorney, it took on another strange layer of respect now that she was mayor, and occasionally hearing Mayor Royce out of the mouths of people she knew felt a little stilted. She could be just herself in a busy tech cafe.

As she took a sip of her own coffee, she scanned the current array of patrons at the cafe. Most of them were huddled over screens or working on something with an alarming amount of focus considering the bustle of the space. It wasn't obnoxious by any means, but Breslin couldn't imagine getting much done here. "It is good. I haven't been here before--do you come often?" Her eyes fell on Chloe's belongings briefly. "To work or just... sit?"

Chloe’s eyes widened slightly as she realized who had chosen to sit opposite her. Her cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink. “Breslin… I mean, Mayor Royce. I’m truly sorry I didn’t recognize you for a moment. Please forgive my foggy brain—spending hours typing away must have clouded even my eyes.” She gestured for the other woman to sit, though the Mayor didn’t wait for an invitation. Not that she needed to. When Chloe was just a name in the event scene, barely more than her connection to the Network and its CEO, Breslin had placed her trust in a young woman to assist with her campaign. It had been a gamble, one for which Chloe was still grateful. Without that opportunity and the trust in her skills, her life would likely have taken a very different turn.

The brunette smiled down at her cup, the friendly, teasing tone of the other woman lifting her spirits ever so slightly. She’d still beat herself up over the easily avoidable mistake, but that was something to worry about later. “Still the kind soul you’ve always been. Thank you so much, Miss... Whatever you would’ve ordered would have been too much, so thank you for getting me a refill. I hope you’ve treated yourself as well. The coffee is surprisingly decent.”

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Despite still feeling as though she mentally waded though pudding, Elena managed to pull herself together enough to crack a weak half-smile at the remark. "I have seen blood before," she confirmed, words clearer now than even thirty seconds ago. Blood in general was not the issue, it was seeing it in unexpected places. Battered knuckles, an unfortunate accidental slice from a chef's knife, a bloody nose, right up to whatever nonsense her employers pulled all had the potential to shunt Elena rudely out of her own brain.

"Sounds like he deserved it, then," she continued, still lingering awkwardly near the door. At least she hadn't walked into the middle of a fight. Leo was certainly right about one thing--Elena was not cut from a fighter's cloth. She liked her desk-job life with computer screens and plants and press releases, but a small part of her admired the stranger for so willingly putting someone in their place by a physical means. Again, the quick flash of blood on a paper towel dropped a cinderblock on her chest, and she stared a beat too long before snapping her gaze to the other woman.

"Oh. Uh--" She's said something, and Elena missed it. "I'm. Uh-- fine," she said, nodding dumbly. "Sure."

Her gaze flicked to the woman’s pale face, the way her eyes lingered just a second too long on the blood swirling down the drain. Great. A fucking lightweight. Arden exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “What, you never seen a little blood before?” she remarked cruelly, more annoyed at herself than anything for throwing a sloppy punch. Not like this woman asked to stumble into the bathroom and come face to face with something usually reserved for a doctor's office.

She turned off the tap with more force than necessary, then flexed her fingers, watching the fresh bloom of red seep through the paper towel. “You sure would. Think this is bad? Pretty sure he split a fuckin' artery from how much his nose was bleeding --" Arden paused, remembering herself. She turned to look at the brunette. "Asshole wouldn't keep his hands to himself. Had to make him after a certain point." The last thing she needed was for this woman to get spooked and run to the cops -- that was the last thing the Kurtlar needed right now. "You know how it is."

She tossed the bloodied towel into the trash, stepping away from the sink with a roll of her shoulders. “Probably," the chef repeated, eyes flickering over the other. "You good though? You look -- you need some water or something?"

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"Suit yourself," Elena said with a shrug, smug grin still plastered on her lips. Admittedly her interactions with Eli were few and far between, but he seemed decent enough for someone in their line of work. She ordered a beer with a tiny fraction of her winnings, then hopped onto a barstool and made herself comfortable. "Ooh Eli, I've been doing this since I was like... nineteen," she quipped, batting her eyelashes up at him dramatically. "I've navigated my fair share of tangles with pissed off frat boys. They're all the same," she said, then twisted slightly in her seat to motion to the booth where the set of them she'd just destroyed nursed their bruised egos. "All bark, no bite."

Elion minded his own business, slowly sipping on a glass of whiskey on the rocks, though he was starting to wonder whether getting a beer wasn't better; he'd be on the third bottle by now compared to barely licking the burning liquid gold while trying to remain sober and alert. He let the sounds pass by him - dirty jokes, drunken shouts and audible dissatisfaction over a lost game of... darts? By the time he glanced over his shoulder, the crowd was already scattered and all he managed to see a woman walking victoriously up to the bar. "I've already got my poison of choice, thanks." He smirked, slightly lifting his glass. "Friendly advice, though, you should watch your back. Especially in such places. Men don't usually like losing to a woman."

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"Smart girl," Elena said with a hum of a laugh, then ordered a beer for herself as well as one for the blonde at her side. When money was significantly tighter, this sometimes paid her rent or supplied groceries for a week or two in addition to buoying her ego, and now she simply did it to remind herself she could. It was like a long, satisfying stretch after sleep, and the drinks a handful of cash supplied didn't hurt anything either.

"I'm Elena," she said after taking a drink, and then she turned slightly to motion to the area of the bar with a billiards table and a darts board against the wall. "You ever play? I buy almost all my drinks like this when I'm out," she continued.

Taylor probably should've been saving whatever extra cash she had left for her own place, but after the shit show she'd had at the hospital that night, the idea of heading home to deal with Vince's bullshit was enough to make her bang her head against a brick wall. So, Sunset Grill seemed a far batter place to waste a few hours.

"Well," She shrugged, lifting her half empty beer bottle in a lazy toast, a faint grin tugging at her lips. "If you're buying," She added, taking another swig. "Who the hell am I to say no to a free drink?"

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Delighted with the order, Elena's smug grin turned wide and sunny briefly as she flagged a bartender and ordered two identical bourbons, opting for top shelf at the last moment. It wasn't like it was her money spent on expensive liquor, after all. "Salud," she said once the bartender placed both drinks in front of them, then lifted her glass slightly for a moment before she took a sip. At the question, she tipped her head briefly towards the booth where the men she'd fleeced now sat, their mood very obviously soured after a round of darts.

"Doing that," she said, grin wolfish, "Which means drinking for free." She took another sip, then leaned comfortably against the bar as a content expression softened her features slightly. It probably said something about her moral fiber that taking some moron's rent money instilled a warm sense of nostalgia in her, but now was certainly not the time to examine that.

The bar was a place to help her think, which sounded counter productive if she said it out loud. One elbow rested on the bar, as she stared off into the distance. Feigning her gaze was locked perusing on the liquor selection displayed behind the bartender. The magic words "I'm buying" gained her attention immediately. A grin offered to Elena as she turned herself in the stool to face the other woman. "I'll never say no to a drink. Bourbon, little ice." Sadie's fingers pointed at the glass bottle on display. "What's the occasion?" She hadn't been paying attention to the dart games earlier.

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Aubrey Plaza getting ready for Screen Actors Guild Awards VOGUE Magazine February 2023

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The surge of fondness at the sound of a familiar voice quickly cooled into icy weight that settled uncomfortably on her chest as she silently watched her former best friend slide into the seat at her side. It had been ages since they'd seen each other properly, each meeting now little more than eye contact across a room when their current circles brushed, and for her part, the pair of them seemed content to pretend they never happened. She'd watched him fall nearly three decades ago, ached to keep it from happening, helpless to do anything but watch as he drowned in his grief.

"No, of course not--" she assured, all the heat gone out of her voice. For a moment she stared, lost for words, her usual ease replaced by a tension that threatened to make her vibrate out of her skin. Some part of her wondered how things might be different if she'd dragged him out of his spiral, if she could have helped him even though she knew the truth of such an endeavor. You can't help people that didn't want it, people who couldn't see a future for themselves outside the strangling darkness that suffocated every match struck with shaking hands. He was lost the second he got the call.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, voice rough, "About-- him. Enzo--" she continued. They stood on opposite sides now, a line drawn between them, but she spotted that familiar weight and Breslin had never been good at killing bad habits.

The convergence of a past life wasn't exactly high on his bingo list this year, but inevitably the sight of a woman he'd have recognized anywhere, in any given state, had Nate recalculating the odds of fate and all that bullshit. Once again, he stood upon the precipice of devastation. Enzo remained missing, the board - his friends, dead and he remained as in the dark about the how and why as he'd been the day police had arrived upon his doorstep at the age of twenty-one. Fate was a sick bitch. And yet, Nate shifted his shoulders, readjusting his jacket as he pulled out the seat beside his former best friend. The sweet smell of alcohol that lingered in the air churned his stomach, but he'd had as little say in walking through that door as he'd ever had. A misnomer reaction that he could neither fight, nor accept. A gentle smile offered to the barkeep and a moment later, little more than a club soda with lime was placed in front of him. A menial glance between the woman and the screen and the one beside him shifted a breath of a laugh from his lips; he didn't know the one on the screen. They existed lifetimes apart, but the divergence of their lives could have been explained by a simple joke that started with the mayor and a criminal walking into a bar... "Habit," he starts in a rather flat tone, he doesn't have the capacity for much else. It feels like he's spent every day since the gala trying to counteract each telling glance that might have heaved another bricks-worth of blame upon his shoulders. It'd been his job to keep the family safe. Alive. And he'd failed, in every aspect. "My usual seat, I mean. Not in the habit of crowding people who look like they'd rather be left alone." And yet, that was perhaps exactly what it looked like. Gravitating towards the burning flame of familiarity - or perhaps he sought out something else entirely. Someone no longer within the realm of recognition. "I'll move, if you're uncomfortable, Bres."

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location: ambrosia's home tag: @ambrosia-bng

“You keep your door unlocked? What if someone breaks in?” Breslin called from the doorway as she pushed her shoes off with her toes with two cups of coffee precariously gripped in one hand and a paper bag of pastries held in the other. Stopping by her friend’s home a little after 8am was not a planned adventure, but she didn’t have anything pressing on the docket today, and the pair of them had been too swamped with the fallout from the gala to do much other than occasionally send an I’m alive text. This rare gap called for a spontaneous coffee date, plus enough pastries to share should her godchildren make an appearance. She had a reputation as favorite adult to maintain.

“You awake? Hello? I require attention,” she continued as she made her way through the familiar hallways of her best friend’s home and to the kitchen, her first impulse being to check there and drop off breakfast if she found it vacant. “I swear to God if you’re not here—“ she mumbled to herself as she continued to make herself at home as though she hadn't just intruded unannounced.

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Polite. Gentle even, despite the recognition obvious in his gaze, something that momentarily left the mayor speechless as she floundered for words a bit more in line with what he’d offered her even after the adder’s snap he received moments before. Her brows knitted and she waited as though expecting the other shoe to drop, light eyes laser-focused on finding the smallest change in demeanor. Finding nothing, her shoulders dropped minutely, the motion practically invisible as tension leaked out of her like a held breath.

“No, no— just the—“ She waved vaguely in the direction of the television, which now played the opening for a football feature about the impending draft. With a sigh, Breslin placed her readers on top of her head and rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger. “How ‘bout them Rams,” she finished flatly. This Breslin was the polar opposite of the one holding a press conference on the other side of a camera lens--where words came with eloquent ease to that iteration of herself, this one needed a break. With a resigned sigh, she closed her laptop and turned to face the man more fully. “You can sit. I won’t bite despite initial impressions.”

Gabriel's gaze drifted toward the television screen just in time to catch the tail end of the press conference. His eyes lingered for a moment longer than necessary, recognizing the woman on the screen immediately. Breslin Royce, the mayor. He couldn’t help but notice how different she appeared now, in her unguarded, casual state. He didn’t need to say anything about it; he preferred not to make a big deal out of things that others often did. Instead, he turned his attention back to the bar, noticing the way she composed herself—distant, but not unapproachable, as though she were deliberately choosing to remain unnoticed.

When she spoke, Gabriel's lips twitched in a fraction of a smile. Her bluntness, her rawness, was something he appreciated even if it came across as slightly offhand. It was almost as if she were waiting for him to comment on the obvious—that he’d noticed her, recognized her—but he wasn’t going to. He didn’t want to be the one to point it out. He didn’t want to break her invisible shield. Instead, he just kept his tone neutral, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“Someone bothering you?” he asked, his words thoughtful, deliberate, and devoid of judgment. Gabriel had a way of asking questions that were less about curiosity and more about understanding, about wanting to know the person beneath the surface. He was good at reading people, often more than they realized. His gaze flicked to the television for a split second again, but he kept his expression even, patient, as he awaited her response.

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"Ooh, she likes bourbon," Elena said, wiggling her eyebrows playfully as she caught the attention of the bartender and doubled her order. She gave silent confirmation on buying a moment later when she unfolded a bill from those folded into her palm and handed it to the bartender, who gave her change a moment later. Satisfied for the time being, she tucked the remaining cash into her back pocket and pulled the pair of drinks close, then eased one towards the stranger at her side.

"I'm Elena, by the way," she said as she drew the tumbler to her lips and took a pull of the amber liquid within. It wasn't her money, technically, so she'd splurged on something a little nicer than run-of-the-mill bourbon, and she hummed a pleased note before she set the glass down. "And you appear to be a right place, right time sort of girl," she continued, eyebrows lifting as she tipped her head towards the other's free drink.

there had been no shortage of venues to occupy her time. to keep her entertained during the hours where she was not discussing the latest cases. or digging into what precisely had transpired the night of a gala. it had simply been another night where she was strolled down another street, where she had ducked into the first establishment that spoke to her. the upscale ones were often not worth her time, for the gossip typically divulged on who was sleeping with who's husband. and while that scratched a particular itch for some cases, this one seemed to stretched beyond that. which is precisely where her head was at, before a voice drew her from its depths .

" you are buying ? " the words were repeated, with emphasis on a particular word. it hadn't gone unnoticed. the game that had been played not far from the bar, between this mystery woman and her latest sucker. " alright then. i'll have what you're having . "

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location: outside the pr firm where elena works tag: @camibarone "Fuck, I'm late, I'm sorry," she said the second she spotted a blonde lingering near the bottom of the stairs that led to the highrise where the firm that employed her kept their offices. Despite the heels, Elena descended the steps with grace uncanny juxtaposed with the string of irritated curses that fell from her lips in a continuous stream. Once she reached Cami's side, she dropped her purse on the ground in front of her feet and swept her long jacket from its former position draped over an arm to across her shoulders. It was a long day, and while a little time with her favorite Barone would surely be a balm to a bad mood on any day, her late departure put something of a crease in their evening.

"These fucking princess-- the god damned-- can't just--" Christ she needed a cigarette. Or a joint. Or a lobotomy. With a heavy, dramatic sigh, Elena finally released her jacket and picked up her purse, gaze on her phone as she situated herself with one hand and typed messily with the thumb of the other. "Did you get an uber? Where are we going?" She paused, finally looking up, and wrinkled her nose. "Was I supposed to help you with something?"