#Andreas is such a good friend

[feyhunter78]

Among the Sun Ch 20

Description: You and Andreas spend some time together in the gardens before he is due to depart.

Ch 21

“Do you remember when we were younger, and your brother threw a spider into your lap during studies?” Andreas asks, a wide smile on his face, his deep brown skin, tanned further from his day in the sunny western shores of Opzelua glowed in the noonday sun. His curls wild—ruffled by the strong winds of the day—released from the hold he had coaxed them into the night of the ball.

“I remember how you screamed and left me to die alone.” You say, elbowing him sharply when he laughs.

“I was ten, what could you have expected?” His laugh is infectious, coaxing a laugh from you, the frown falling from your lips.

“For you to help me?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “You asked too much of a poor librarian’s nephew.”

You roll your eyes, the wind catching in your hair and lifting a few strands as you knelt down beside a pond, colorful koi fish swimming contently just below the surface. “Ah yes, a poor child who enjoyed the privileges of royalty while mercifully avoiding each and every one of its burdens. What a miserable child you must have been.”

Andreas kneels beside you, taking a bag of pellets from his belt and tossing a few in for the fish. “I did not avoid every burden, I was still married off, just as you were.”

You lean back on your hands, soft grass pillowing your palms, and tilt your face up towards the sky. “I think it is going to rain.”

He looks up as well. “There is not a cloud in the sky—y/n!” He sputters, when you splash him with water, a mischievous smile on your face.

“Was it not you who said it was callous to make light of my situation?” You ask, flinging yourself to the ground when Andreas attempts to splash you back, landing on your side facing him.

“Was it not you who said that you were not caged within your marriage?” He shoots back.

You snort when Andreas joins you on the ground, both sets of your fine clothing being stained by grass. “It is not so bad; the emperor is kind to me.”

“That is good to hear.” He says. His eyes are a dazzling forest green, nearly glowing with a supernatural light, a remnant from his mother’s side of the family.

“I cannot say it is a love like the one shared between you and your late wife, but it is beginning to sprout. Perhaps in time it will bloom.” You pick at a blade of grass, holding it up and watching as the wind takes it.

“You do not wish for love like mine, love in great measure brings grief in equal.” Andreas says, his eyes downcast, his voice soft, mournful, ripped away by the wind.

“My friend…” You reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “I mourn your loss as well, do not shoulder it alone, I am here for you, share it with me.”

Andreas rolls onto his back, eyes closed against the sun. “Myra was beautiful, kind beyond measure, brilliant beyond boast, and a wonderful companion. Never did a morn come, I did not thank the gods that she was beside me, that she chose me . A foreign born, former servant, with nothing to offer her beside my utter devotion.”

“But she did choose you.” You say, smiling sadly at the way he fidgeted with his fingers. A trait you picked up from him, a clear, subconscious sign of difficulty speaking, of vulnerability.

“She did, she could have had anyone, and yet she chose me. She loved me, accepted my devotion and in return catapulted me to power. Though I would have taken her if dowry was nothing but a snippet of her voice, a fleeting touch of her hands, a glimpse of her smile. She could have had nothing, and I would have considered myself a richer man than any king.”

You bite your lip, tears pricking at the back of your eyes. Andreas always spoke so eloquently but his inflection, the way he weaved his words together, spoke volumes of his adoration for his late wife.

“I do not think I shall ever love again, how can I, when my heart is entombed in stone along with my dearest light?” He takes a deep shuttering breath, and you are aware of what he must say next.

“You do not have to speak of it if you truly do not wish to.” You tell him, lying on your back as well, giving him further privacy, so he no longer had to feel your eyes on him.

“It was late at night, we had been riding all day, a wolf ran out into the road lunged at her horse, scared it. It took off running, and I gave chase, shouting her name, but something had happened, and it tripped, sent her tumbling off. The healers said she died quickly, painlessly, a broken neck, it was a clean break, nothing compared to the violent shattering of my heart.”

You choke back a sob, heavy grief for your friend, for yourself, for everyone you have lost, for everyone Andreas has lost begins piling onto your chest like great boulders. You are glad when clouds began to cover the sky, a gloomy atmosphere felt more respectful to the tale your dearest friend was telling.

“I must admit, I went quite mad with grief. Ordered every wolf in the vicinity hunted down, brought their pelts to her side. I do not know whether I wished to show her I had avenged her, or if it was some kind of twisted offering, but I could do nothing else. She was the one I wished to turn to, who I wished would comfort me, and she was gone. Now I must live on, for the sake of her people, her child.”

“You have a child?” You manage to ask, voice all but swallowed by a clap of thunder.

“A son, Leon, he is a bright boy, happy, loved, he is in the care of his grandmother while I am here. I will depart tonight to be reunited with him.” Andreas sits up and gives you, his hand.

You take it, tears slipping down your face mixing with the rain. “I am overjoyed to hear you have a small spot of brightness within your gloom.”

He nods, a weak but true smile on his face. “I will have his portrait sent to you, perhaps the Princess Gabrielle will find him suitable in the future.”

“Your schemes grow bolder with age, I see.” You laugh, but you know Andreas can see through your bravado.

“Y/N, there is no shame in grief, have you even mourned the life you once had?”

You stand with his assistance, the air thick with rain. “What is there to mourn?”

He squeezes your hand. “Your stubbornness grows with age as well.”

“I have mourned, I ensure you.” You have, you have mourned your life many times over, but it does you no good to dwell on it.

“Then why are you crying?”

You give him a watery laugh. “I am crying for you, my dearest friend who has lost the love of his wife, do you think me so selfish your story would not move me to tears?”

He hugs you, a warm, strong hug, filled with childhood memories and shared grief. “I would never think you selfish, I only thought you had outgrown such a phase. You cannot continue always crying for others y/n, or you will run out of tears.”

You cried as Miguel took you from your home, as he held you impossibly tight as he slept, the wind beating the canvas walls, you cried when he locked you in your first chambers, then you did not cry again, but now? Now you sob into Andreas’ chest because you grieve for him, for his son, and you grieve for your life before, for your mother who was left alone with the bodies of your family and a frightened kingdom. You cry for the young y/n, and the young Miguel, who did not know how their lives would unravel.

“My Lady, the emperor wishes to see you in his study.” Peter, Miguel’s third in command, says, his face cherry red as if he walked in on you and Andreas bare and intertwined.

You release Andreas. “You will write to me, yes, when you return home?”

“Of course, and you must reply, or I will assume you’ve been held hostage and mount a rescue.” He gives you one last smile, then makes his way back into the palace.

You watch over your shoulder as he goes, you both are walking in opposite directions, backs to each other, and you raise your face to the sky once more, letting the rain wash away your tears. You are on separate paths, but your staring points will always remain the same, tethered together by homelands, by grief.

“I will assume that encounter was perfectly honorable, as you seem a woman who wishes to keep her life.” Peter jests, giving you a playful smile.

“It was.” You do not have the energy for Peter’s boyish enthusiasm. Grief has sapped the strength from your bones, and you wish to rest.

“Pray the emperor believes you as well.”

TL: @not-aya, @belos-simp69, @deputy-videogamer, @sxnasbitch, @minimari415, @syndrlla97, @gejo333, @lady-necromancer, @zeyzeys-stuff, @tayleighuh, @loser-alert, @envyjmoney, @allysunny, @princessloveweird, @freehentai, @xlittlebubx-blog, @berry-potchy, @drefear, @jkthinkstoomuch, @ihateuguys, @yuuotosaka3, @queenofroses22, @ray-rook, @lollipopin, @faexsins, @drefear, @scorpihoooe, @mellowvisions15

[astriiformes]

Comparing your work to other people's is a great way to kill your joy for a thing so let me be clear and say this is not that, I am just a human person with human emotions and sometimes that means needing to be the tiniest bit petty and then moving on. You know. For your health or something.

There is a very popular cosplayer who coincidentally keeps doing the same costumes as me, and I am just the tiniest bit annoyed about it, because as is the case with many (...most) very popular cosplayers, they have a very specific, airbrushed, conventionally attractive, perfect makeup, etc aesthetic to all their photos that is. Not what I personally value in cosplay, at least. Which is fine! Different people having different approaches to costumes is part of what makes cosplay such an interesting hobby!

But it does bother me a tiny bit that the work I put into my costumes is not necessarily the kind of work that gets attention, and it does make it a little glaringly obvious when it's The Same Characters.

(Also you all know the kinds of characters I cosplay. I gravitate towards them in part because they have weird energy, not super put together attractive energy. But that's only part of my point.)

Anyways. I do not follow them on Instagram because why would I do that, but nonetheless I saw that they're apparently also doing a Laois cosplay now, which I guarantee will get lots more attention than mine. And for the most part that's fine, I love cosplay and I love doing my weird little thing and I especially love that I do in fact know other people that value the same things as me & that we have fun together. I will have a great time in my fun little costume, dressing up with my friends in their fun little costumes and I am looking forward to it. And I do not actually need likes to validate that I am becoming a pretty damn good cosplayer (whose stuff is better quality than many popular cosplayers' because I care more about craftsmanship than I do getting attention). I am even thinking pretty seriously about having Laois be my first ever competition costume if the armor turns out alright, because I think I'm genuinely getting to that level.

But it would just be kind of neat if being a weird little guy with weird little ideas who is into the hobby because I like sourcing historical patterns and materials and thinking about the worldbuilding that goes into costumes and creating neat little "in-universe" ephemera to hand out to people and all the things I like didn't always mean getting overshadowed by Instagram Perfect Attractive People.

Alas. Okay glad that's out of my system I'm normal again. I'm going to make some more chain mail.

[buttercupart]

@joseartcenteno asked: Hey Buttercup, big fan of your TGAMM artwork, and i have a question… Have you been thinking of doing Molly and Andrea together as besties?

yesss I love these two, I'm so glad to see them being friends now!

[thatonebirdwrites]

Heroic

Lena Kieran Walsh knew her plan was perhaps the most ridiculous and ludicrous plan of all time. Yet her mother's last wish before her death had been, "become a menace to our enemies."

Lena, in tears, holding her mother's hands, vowed, "I will. Be at peace, Mammy." Her mother exhaled few ragged breaths with a faint smile before she slipped away. As if she'd only needed Lena's vow to finally let herself go.

The funeral had been a quiet affair, mostly due to her mother's instructions. Lena invited those on her mother's list, but she also added Sam Arias and her daughter, Jack Spheer, and Andrea Rojas -- her friend group to help support her.

They stood on the Cliffs of Moher that day, and as requested by her mother, she spread her ashes amongst the dirt by that trail and planted the oak. It had taken a week to get permission for the planting due to the area being a park, but the week had given Lena time to secure the ingredients for one last spell.

Lena herself didn't believe in magic per se. She was a scientist to her core, preferring to study biology and physics at the university, her thesis on the use of nanotechnology to target and destroy cancer cells. A project she shared with Jack and Sam. As much as university had set her apart from her mother’s lessons, she still remembered the old ways.

Traditions taught from mother to daughter, magic and stories that mustn’t be forgotten. Her Mammy was a self-professed druid within a larger druidic coven. She'd been highly regarded in the community as the caretaker of Ireland's history and myths, and Lena had been expected to take her place until she’d flounced off to uni.

But that day, she asked Sam to hold her brolly, it being a soft day, the mists from the heavy clouds like pinpricks against her cheeks. She knelt in the dirt and unstoppered the growing potion, one she’d carefully made per her Mammy’s instructions. Sung the magical words and focused all her mind and heart on imbuing it with her love for her Mammy.

That day, on the Cliffs of Moher, Lena poured the potion into the roots of the oak and sung the activation song. Her voice clear and precise, the melody soothing with little runs, and her eyes closed to keep herself from weeping. Tears would shatter her voice, and she needed to this perfect.

She could do no less for her Mammy.

Later Jack, Andrea, and Sam would swear the tree had grown during that moment, but Lena had her eyes closed and missed it. Lena expected the coven’s agreements that growth occurred, but Jack, Sam, and Andrea? They’re the pragmatics and realists of the group.

In the following months, she’d think of that day often, while she quietly worked through her mother's grimoire. Partly to better understand but also to continue her legacy in a way, and that was what gave her the idea.

Her mother referenced several artifacts that had been stolen from Haitian tribes, who had contacted her out of concern the magic within them was being misused. Her mother's cancer had prevented her from doing much more than attempt wards on the exhibits in London to prevent misuse.

But Lena had a better idea.

Why not steal from the colonizers who ransacked countries, starved populations into submission or outright killed them? Lena knew the stories of her people well. Her mother had taught her of the potato famine, which had been caused by the British literally poisoning the fields. The trauma of that colonization never left her people, and she let the rage from those injustices fuel her plan.

The Haitian tribes would see their lost artifacts returned, and Lena would wear the color of blood as a symbol of the dead left in the wake of the colonizers. Yes, if she planned well, she could leave her mark, and live up to her promise to her Mammy.

"Lena," Sam argued, "You can't do this alone. Let me help."

"I don't want to risk you," Lena protested. "You have a daughter."

"And the risk to you?" Sam crossed her arms and frowned. "You're family, Lena. And we help family always. So if you're going to do this stunt, then let me be your getaway driver."

“She has a point.” Andrea sipped her scotch from where she sat next to Lena’s bar. She leaned against it, both elbows on the counter, while her hand swirled the scotch. “This is a grave risk. Besides, it’ll be way more fun with friends, Lena.” She smirked. “I am an excellent—”

“Don’t you dare say it,” Lena pointed her finger at Andrea in warning. Her ex-girlfriend smirked in response and leaned against Sam’s side. The two had become nearly inseparable since meeting, and Lena didn’t mind if it meant less jokes about her own sex life.

Jack, who had stayed silent up to that point, chuckled. "Luv, they’re right. Doing this alone? It's a bit much. You need a team. I'll see if I can rig up a program to keep the cameras off your movements."

Lena already had done some preliminary hacking to see the extent of the security, but now that Jack had mentioned it, having someone to control the cameras would be immensely helpful. And Sam was an excellent driver and had a pilot's license, mostly because Lena had needed a buddy to get through the lessons.

"Fine. You all can help." She made a show of rolling her eyes and sounding put out, but secretly she was thrilled that her closest friends had her back.

Sam turned onto Mare Street in London, and slowed to a stop near 11 Mare Street. She parked with a frown. "Lena, are you sure this is it?"

Lena stared at the rather small storefront. Victor Wynd Museum of Curiosities was emblazoned above the more stately letters of The Last Tuesday Society. The window overflowed with a grotesque display of shrunken heads, skeletons, and voodoo dolls. No wonder Mammy's Voodoo friends contacted her for help. This place stank of exploitation of their craft.

"Yup. It's smaller than expected."

"Are you kidding me?" Sam leaned over her steering wheel. "There's a cocktail menu posted on the door."

“What? Are they drinking out of the skulls?” Andrea quipped, a hint of disgust in her voice.

Anger seared through Lena's veins. "Of course. Typical British."

"Hey!" Jack protested from the back seat, where he sat with a laptop. His fingers danced across the keys. "I am mildly offended, Luv."

"Jack, you're more Scottish-Indian than British-Indian," Lena drawled.

“Still. Till the Scots gain our independence, we do not drink from skulls.” He sniffed dramatically, but she knew he wasn't really bothered. "Their security is a load of tosh."

"Considering how tiny this storefront is, I'm not surprised," Sam said. "So, uh, what's the best way to do this?"

“Too distracted to hear Lena’s hours long presentation?” Andrea teased, which elicited a glare from her girlfriend.

“The placement of your hands is the villain here,” Sam shot back, her cheeks reddening.

Andrea raised her hands and wiggled her fingers. “We all need exercise sometimes.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Stop acting the maggot you two.” She nods toward the museum-cocktail lounge. “Three am is the goal since they close around midnight. Jack, focus on taking over their security feeds. I'll have a program ready. It'll erase itself within twenty minutes. If I'm not out by then, all of you leg it. If I’m caught, I’m caught, but I won’t have you three joining me."

"That's kind of tight," Sam said, uneasy. "And we can’t just leave you, Lena."

Lena sighed. "I mean it, Sam. This isn’t some grand heroic moment. It’s breaking and entering.”

“I beg to differ,” Jack said. “Heroic is indeed what this is. Lost artifacts returned to their homes? A modern day Robin Hood.”

Lena smiled and shook her head. “Look, I get in, procure the stolen artifacts, and get out. No sight-seeing or distractions. Twenty is plenty.” She turned to glare at Andrea. “Can’t trust you not to lob the gob with Sam, so you’re the lookout.”

Andrea smirked. “Fine. I’ll wear all black.”

“Good. Do that ridiculous whistle if you see any Garda.” In reply, Andrea gave Lena fingerguns. “Sam, use your electric car. The idling’s as silent as a grave.”

Sam nodded. “Can do.”

“Now remember,” Lena narrowed her eyes at Andrea but glanced at the other two in the car for good measure. “We’re scouting now. No getting banjaxed. I need you all as sprightly as a wagtail.”

“Being a craic vacuum today?” Andrea quipped.

“No more dossing around, Andi,” Lena said exasperated. She used that saying once about Sam being too uptight, and Andrea adopted i almost immediately to Lena's annoyance. “Or you’re sitting the rest out.”

“Wait, there’s more planned?” Andrea grinned. “Mina, you’re holding back.”

“Shut it. We have a job to do. Now let’s get cracking.” Lena opened the door and wished she wasn’t about to sully herself in the most exploitive, macabre cocktail lounge she'd ever seen.

The moment she stepped inside, she wished she hadn’t, as the jampacked walls full of macabre exhibits and the strange musky scent almost had her walking right back out.

But no, she needed reconnaissance. Locate exactly where to enter, nab the target, and exit. Surely her ancestors and the ancestors of her mother's friends will forgive her for having a short drink next to a taxidermy lion on a table made from a sarcophagus.

She needed the ancestors protection for this, not their fury. Besides, the cocktails turned out to be manky as hell.

Dressed in a red cloak, wide-brimmed hat, gloves, and boots, Lena felt a trifle ridiculous but also proud of herself. Time to finally live up to her vow, to do what her mother could not, and bring home what was stolen.

From their reconnaissance, she marked several windows large enough for her to slip through. All required a climb. It hadn’t taken her long to make a device to shoot the rope into the wood of the window. Climbing had been a bit stressful, but she’d made it. Below she could see Andi, leaning against a wall as she watched the road. Jack was still in the car with Sam, the program churning through the security.

It took three tries with her tools to unlock the window and push it open. The stench hit her first. She pulled up her scarf to wrap around her face. For feck’s sake, did the owner store poop here? She dropped into the attic and to her horror there was indeed poop here. Several glass jars labeled with celebrity names and dates sat in a container to her right.

It gave her an idea however. She gathered a few and carefully made her way down the rickety ladder to the main floor. In the bar area, she set up each of the jars and uncapped them. Two she dumped their contents in front of the main office.

She tiptoed out of the bar and gingerly entered some of the exhibits. She couldn’t take it all — her bag couldn’t carry it for one nor would the rope hold that much weight — but the staggering amount of human remains on display twisted her stomach with rage.

Maybe she could come back and steal it all, but for now she focused on the Voodoo poppets. They were arranged in rows three exhibits down the hall in front of a macabre set of shrunken heads, African Masks — the designs reminding her of the Igbo people actually — and several skulls.

She bowed her head and murmured the words she’d heard her mother say many a time, “Tagaim chun tú a thabhairt abhaile. Bí ar a suaimhneas.” Irish for ‘I come to bring you home, be at peace.’ Then one by one she wrapped them in the silk the Haitians had sent her mother for this, and tucked them in her bag.

A quick sweep of the other exhibits found her three more poppets, and a search of the attic another six. Her twenty minutes neared completion, so she scurried through the window, slid down the rope, and tapped the button on her belt. The bolt blew apart in a rain of metal, the rope dropping like a flying a snake.

She whistled to Andrea, and the two legged it to Sam’s car. As soon as they tumbled into the backseat, Sam slid out of park and the car silently pulled away from the curb.

"Five minutes to spare," Jack said with a wink. "Nicely done."

"I'll do better next time," Lena leaned back and patted her bag. "Mam's friends will be relieved to have these home again."

"Here you are, being the hero of our time," Andi said with a grin and poke of her elbow in Lena's side. "You need a name though." She looked over Lena's outfit. "Why red?"

"Carmen is the hue actually." Lena laid her hand on her bag and thought of her Mammy, how the cancer had slowly eaten away her life. How hard she'd worked toward causes of liberation. "I promised Mam I'd become a menace to my enemies. I wear the color of anger and blood."

"Right, and whose gonna know that?" Jack pointed out.

Lena smiled. "Oh, the world will know soon enough."

Three hundred Euros later and two days of searching flights, Lena was on her way to the Haiti, her prize carefully hidden in her carry-on luggage. As she watched Ireland fade from view, she took a deep breath and released it slowly. She’d done it.

She’d rescued priceless artifacts, and now they were going home. Smiling, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Already plans formed of improved methods of infiltration. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it well.

[petit-papillion]

Thank you, Andrea!

For preparing Charles for every race, but especially Qatar. Charles was in fairly decent shape after that brutal race, able to conduct interviews like normal (after checking in with Andrea, as he mentioned to Canal+).

We may joke about Charles having 3 drinking bottles and needing to run to the bathroom at every opportunity, but he is staying well hydrated pre-race.

We may offer to take over from Andrea when he applies the menthol spray to Charles, or drool over the ice baths, but these are no luxury.

And it may have been funny when Charles accidentally pressed the drink button during his post-race thank you's, but at least we know he carries water on board (unlike SAR).

Here is Andrea (in 2013 when he was Jules Bianchi's trainer) talking about preparing a driver for a race with extreme weather:

Source: Nazionale Piloti

Grazie Andrea 💕 - for always taking such good care of Charles.

[aliquidest]

dovi 🇮🇹🎧ing @ motegi 2017

[problematic-president]

Martin van buren how bad can i be edit my friend made..........

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

i'm giving guadalajara too much shit but los pueblos negros (the black villages) are genuinely really freaking cool

also! my first experience with them was through an andrea compton video, cause she is from one of these villages!!! for those who don't know her, andrea compton is one of the most belovedests spanish youtubers, one of the ogs as well and i love her very much. anyways, she lived here until high school, where she went to live with her father in my hometown lol, in suburban madrid. so. pretty big change. i unfortunately cannot find her video, she might have just deleted it at this point - i watched it at least 10 years ago - but i found what her village is if you want to look it up, it's called roblelacasa, and as of 2016 it has 22 inhabitants. i remember she told in the video that she had to go to another village to go to school, and that in said school there were 6 kids in total, of course with different ages all together in the classroom.

[travalistocata]

skimming through echoes of our conversations and patricia being unable to go five minutes without mentioning how she either kins lyta or wants andreas is the realest thing i have ever seen. mother. queen.

[murderballadeer]

keep seeing my friend’s ex on hinge

[theirloveisgross]

.

[skloomdumpster]

I know most people imagine Andreas as this suave, smooth talking frat boy during his Alfea years, but personally I think that's a misconception because of his actor and also bc of how Sky acts.

In one hand Sky is trying to live up to the legend of his father, but we all know he truly acts like Silva. Besides, have you guys seen Andreas talk? His people skills are lacking to say the least. Finally, we *do* see a character that Andreas actually raised flirt, Beatrix.

Beatrix has the exact same people skills as Andreas does. She's introverted, snarky, sullen and highly sexual. She lands two guys, can't bothered to be nice to either, but hides a secret soft side that we only see behind closed doors. This to me is Andreas to a T.

[astriiformes]

So Scribe and I are just supposed to bawl our way through the entirety of Act III of Pentiment huh

[raye-sim]

🎶🎵 meet the band 🎵🎶

[thatonebirdwrites]

Finally got Sam's chapter up! This one is heavy with Andrea, the mysterious former friend of Lena that shows up wanting to buy Catco.

Alex and Sam also have an important chat. Ruby gets to do her first "mission."

EXCERPT FROM MID CHAPTER:

The restaurant was fairly crowded, but the section the hostess took Sam felt fairly secluded. Andrea Rojas sat in the booth, but she stood with a smile when Sam approached. The hostess gestured to the booth and walked away after giving Sam a menu. 

Andrea looked amazing. Her black dress hugged her curves, her smile creasing her cheeks and the skin around her eyes. “Hello Sam Arias. Pleasure to see you again.”

“Right,” Sam found words difficult. “Uh, pleasure is all mine.” She gestured to the table, feeling flustered and off-centered already. “How about we sit and order?” She settled into the booth after Andrea took her seat. “I’m pretty excited to taste the fare here.” 

Opening the menu, she scanned the drinks first. She’d need a drink to get through this if Andrea was going to sit there looking hot as fuck. Jesus. 

“Oh? You’ve never tried this place before?” Andrea raised an eyebrow. Way too similar to Lena. 

“Well, no, but Lena recommended it. Said it’d be perfect for us.” Sam realized a little too late that mentioning Lena seemed to visibly hurt Andrea, as in she literally winced. 

“Still marching by your bosses orders?” Andrea’s words were sharp like crispy chicken.

Sam was hungry and comparing voices to food was not helping her nerves. “No, she’s my best friend, actually. Known her for… huh. Six or so years?” She tapped her fingers against the menu. “We’ve been through some pretty rough things together.” She had no intention of mentioning the worldkiller crisis on her first date — was it a date? It was supposed to be a fact-finding mission. Besides, she wasn’t going to hide the fact she and Lena were close. 

“Ah. Friends with your boss. One would think you two would be more professional.” Andrea scanned the menu. “You up for red wine? A full bottle to share sounds perfect right now.” That scathing edge to her voice hadn’t quite left. 

Bringing up Lena really had rubbed the woman raw, huh. Was Andrea upset with Lena? But why? Andrea was the one who betrayed Lena from how Lena explained. Or was it that Andrea missed Lena and was envious of Sam? Or simply wishing to not be reminded of painful memories perhaps? Ugh, infinite probabilities, and to narrow it down, Sam would need to carefully nest her questions among less caustic ones.

....

[dreambaited]

every time the dteam interact with the botez sisters they make the best content i wish there was more tbh