#character: mallory huitson.

[max-cortez]

location — the bonfire bash of 2023.

character — @malloryhuitson

The raging fire that many surrounded wasn't the only chance he had of getting burned. He'd spotted the blonde the crowd a few minutes earlier and against his better judgement, he opted to approach. "You lost? Those big buildings you like are that way," he pointed out with a lifted beer bottle and tipsy grin. It was most certainly the beer running through his veins that had him braving the storm, but he wasn't nearly gone enough to tame the pounding of his heart. Had someone talked her into coming? It didn't matter. Even if the thought of one of those watchful goons having convinced her to come struck a nerve of jealousy within. "And here I thought the only thing you owned were heels."

[max-cortez]

Giving anything away was a dangerous move. What was it that they said about wild animals? Never show fear? He felt her gaze upon him, confirmed by a flick of his own to meet deep emerald painted hues. Max offered a quiet tsk, a doubtful response to a statement he knew to be false. His poker face was good, perhaps too good, because if she hadn't saw the broken man from their first accidental run-in, then clearly it was far better than she knew.

His white knuckled grip on the cue was easily ignored until the ache was too much for him to handle. He bounced the stick from one hand to the other, his grip tightening the moment her voice cut through the music once more. He hated it. How every word she spewed captured his undivided attention. "Complacent? Wishful thinking." While together, he'd been a lot of things, and sure, maybe he had been complacent, but not once had he ever been afraid to push back against the great, the glorious, and the very dominant woman before him.

Treading dangerous waters meant no turning back. It meant swallowing his pride if she sank the eight ball before he got the chance, but it also meant ending a game that should have never been started in the first place. Max took a couple of steps in the blonde's direction, teeth grinding down as jaw locked tight. Did she really think of him as some desperate face in the crowd? "Doesn't matter if you don't win. Now, you gonna take your shot, or should I go? 'Cause unlike your other dogs, I've got other shit to do tonight. Sorry to disappoint."

@malloryhuitson

She stopped, studied him. Stared at him right through his soul. Trying to gather exactly what he was thinking in this moment. It was always difficult for her, to read Max. To read anyone really. Perhaps it was something wrong with Mallory, something to do with her self-centredness, to never care about anyone but her (and by extension, her daughter, but thinking of her right now wasn't exactly appropriate). It wasn't for lack of trying on his part - they had both revealed parts of themselves to one another, and Mallory had been more receptive to him than she ever had before. But tonight wasn't the night for psychoanalysis, so instead she offered him another smirk. "I know. Your poker face isn't too great."

The only language she knew. Another reminder that the two of them were worlds apart. That the initial reason that brought them together (or, at least, what graviated her to him. She never understood, not to the full depth, the allure of Mallory Huitson to Max Cortez). She could hear his smugness in his tone, and, blaming everything and everyone else but her - as was common practice - she decided to allow it. "Careful, now," She warned, "Being complacent isn't as attractive as you've clearly been led to believe."

The game hadn't been that fun, she could admit that, the players before him bringing himself into the fold not even being close to her level. Too easy to win, and it was clear she liked a challenge. Any annoyance of Max crossing the threshold and involving himself had long since faded. And suddenly, looking at him, the game wasn't fun anymore. Because what were they doing, a thinly veiled attempt of cat and mouse around the green velvet table? She broke her stare from him, at the balls. Only a few more, and all she had to do was pocket the black ball and it was an easy victory. "Don't pretend you've looked away from me the minute you entered this bar. I was just thinking of what I had planned when I won." ♣ @max-cortez

[aliciamillergarcia]

Characters: Alicia Miller-Garcia & Mallory Huitson (@malloryhuitson) Location: The Grape Escape Closed Starter

With the holiday season approaching, the number of fundraisers that the Miller's had been invited to started to increase. Between the hospital, people in their community or charities they supported, it was easy to end up finding themselves at one every other week. It was always an opportunity to meet up with new people, which was exactly what Alicia was doing today whilst Ben was busy networking with people up in the admin team at the hospital. "I would go for the Chablis if I were you," she told the woman looking at the white wine options available, holding up her own glass to emphasize the point. "It's marvellous."

[theaxharris]

character: Mallory Huitson @malloryhuitson

location: Ava Harris' House Party; Summit Lake

Having gone to the beach for Elliot's birthday, it had been such a nice and relaxing time. Of course now that she had a few more businesses to look after, it was a bit more of a smack of a wake up call when she had gotten back. Thea had agreed to coming to Ava's party though, unsure if it was for united front purposes or just because Ava wanted to hear all the details of the trip, which to her step-mother's dismay had not led to a proposal even though Thea had told her it wouldn't various times. She let out a small sigh of relief as she got into the kitchen thinking she was going to be alone but there seemed like someone else had the same idea. "Ah, so you've found my favorite hiding place." Thea teased the woman unsure if her intention of being in the kitchen was to hide or not.

[lorelai-tseng]

character: Mallory Huitson @malloryhuitson

location: Holiday Charity Event

Lorelai had already sent a donation to the hospital before the event, but she felt like there was always something that could happen. Plus it wasn't like she had much better to do other than be at her restaurant and she was planning on being there all through the next few days so she figured a night out where she got to dress up couldn't hurt. Strolling around the event to look for a familiar face ignoring the stares her way, she was happy to see Mallory who'd she remembered telling her she'd be at some events through the season.

She of course looked stunning as well and she gave the woman a genuine smile as she approached her. "You look lovely, have you found anything or anyone enjoyable thus far?" Lorelai asked with interest as she looked around the room now that she was next to the other woman.

[malloryhuitson]

"Well, of course I don't need to follow my rules. I merely enforce them. Otherwise instead of an orderly republic, it'd be anarchy." She replied, smoothly. One of the biggest gripes people tended to have about the Huitson heir was her tendency to be hypocritical. And granted, it was a pet peeve she also shared, depending on the context. She was usually an excellent judge of character and reading into people. Others didn't tend to seek past her glacial exterior, writing her off as a bitch. So, yes, in her mind, no one else could make assumptions. It was like adding two and two together and not even getting a number, but a shape instead.

She was glad he didn't delve into teasing about her choice of karaoke song. It meant that she'd have to then guilt trip him, but in a way that didn't reveal more about herself than she already did so tonight, to an almost uncomfortable degree. And besides, she had a sickening feeling Eli would use the descriptor of 'cute' if she explained the history with the song and her brother. And it truly wasn't worth the risk.

"You don't judge, but others might," Mallory explained, "It's not exactly the world's most popular genre but this song in particular have proven to be a hit with the audience over the years." She didn't mind feeding him information like this; vague implications. "Perhaps I'm boosting up your ego so your performance fails spectacularly, even in the limits of amateaur karaoke. It's never my intention to be complimentary. Remember that." Was it a real warning? Some sort of joke? She wasn't quite sure anymore.

"An overlap means nothing, especially in terms of enjoying popular music artists. Don't take it to mean we have anything in common, or this is some...foundation for a flourishing friendship." Mallory pointed out, as if insulted about the shared interests. "You do seem like an ABBA man." The CEO then added, in a tone that wasn't exactly flattering either.

@elifalvey

Elijah knew deep down that there was a pretty large chance that Mallory wasn't joking — that she really believed him to be unfortunate enough to sleep in a warehouse, or unable to pay for his own errands, or whatever other little comments she'd made since they first met — but he couldn't help but find the humor in her words. Especially when they were accompanied with an unexpected pat to his shoulder, causing him to throw back his head in laughter.

"Hm. Wasn't it you who just said that it was rude to make assumptions? Or am I just hearing things differently in my elaborate fantasy?" he teased, tongue in cheek. Regardless of however Mallory tried to explain away her thoughts, it wouldn't stop Elijah from believing that she went up there all of her own accord. It was a karaoke bar, after all. Even if most people didn't end up enjoying themselves as much as he often did, it'd just be downright criminal if they didn't request at least one song. In his humble opinion. Which made his grin that much larger as she finally gave up her answer; it wasn't what he was expecting, not in the slightest, but that was the fun part. Getting to guess the intricacies of someone's music taste and being completely surprised by the reality, by how right or wrong he was. "Ooooh, that's a good one. Nothin' wrong with a bit of country here and there — I don't judge." Before he fully processed that the question had been flipped, Mallory's eyes narrowed on him and he quickly realized that he'd been read like a book. Granted, it wasn't difficult to, considering he listened to just about any genre under the sun on a regular basis, but he enjoyed that classic rock was what came to mind first. "Y'know, that's probably the most flattering thing you've ever said to me. Probably even more flattering you think I'd be able to pull off vocals like Sweet Child O' Mine in the first place. But, no, my karaoke go-to is usually somethin' like Dancing Queen, Sweet Caroline — Glen Campbell's Southern Nights, if I'm feeling the country mood myself. I listen to pretty much everything, though, you're not wrong there . . . ABBA, The Rolling Stones, Fleetwood Mac to list some of my favorites." Blissfully unaware of if Mallory even cared, he continued, "Guess we've got some overlap, huh?" / @malloryhuitson.

[malloryhuitson]

* providence task - under the surface, who are you? ↳ 001. who is your character's favorite person?

A common thought that ran through Mallory’s head was, if her father was ever disappointed in her that she never saw him through the same lens she saw her grandfather through. It had been no secret in the Huitson clan that the grandfather-granddaughter duo were probably the strongest relationship in the family. Harold never cared for his son, always pinned him as lacking the trademark Huitson drive, and Marshall had been too coddled as an infant, and his first taste of freedom had been a PR nightmare for them. Mallory had stood out, and he had molded her to be the best of the best. She had never seen anything wrong with it, hanging onto every word he said to her. She never thought she’d feel love the way she had love for her grandfather, her rock, until Aspen was born. This small girl, who Mallory knew from day one she’d do anything to ensure she had an amazing life. She may have lost the one person she could have relied on completely, but she hoped her daughter would see her the same way sometime in the future.

[max-cortez]

There was a fine line between what they'd felt for one another, or better yet, what they hadn't. At least, that was what he'd assumed after walking away and the only thing he could think about was the two years they'd spent together in private. He'd wanted it to be real, but another part of him had attempted to convince himself that it was better if it wasn't. It was better if she'd used him, and if possible, if he'd used her to get over the heartbreak he'd been dealt years before her. "Oh, I got plenty of it for the right time. This just doesn't feel like that time," he countered in a tone far too calm for the emotion that dared to rage a war in his head. If the ground beneath him wasn't so goddamn sturdy, he would have begged some higher power to open it up and swallow him whole.

He met her quick and slightly defensive response with a scoff. Sure, the great Mallory Huitson knew how to have fun. "Alright. If you say so." She knew better than him, even a tiny part of him had thought he'd known her better than that. Pushing paperwork and conquering the business world wasn't the kind of fun he'd been referring to. No, it was riding a bike through dimly lit city streets in a part of town she would have never ventured off to on her own. It was sneaking away to a small town outside of the city limits where no one knew their names. With years between them, maybe her taste for fun had changed. "You know, this has been fun, right? I should get going. I'm sure you've got a busy day ahead of you anyway."

She wouldn’t allow herself to read further into his smile. How it didn’t meet his eyes, how they didn’t sparkle with humor like she was used to seeing. A part of her wanted to run, which was unlike her. Mallory usually stood tall and with grace when things got difficult, never let something like an awkward conversation get to her. But the only time she folded, when she couldn’t face the proverbial music, was with the man currently next to her at a smoothie place. But she wasn’t going to run now. So she looked at him, directly in the eyes. “I’m sure there’s some people in the world who aren’t. Try a little optimism sometime.” 

It was hard, to tear her eyes away from his hands, observing them almost hungrily. She would not fall back into this pattern. Soon, their stupid drinks would arrive and they could move on. They were happier now, surely. Or at least, appearing to be. Mallory didn’t think she could bear with the knowledge that, despite everything, Max wasn’t happy. Was that even her business anymore? Was that even her business to start with? How he was outside of whatever it was they had? All those questions and concerns escaped her when he next spoke. “I know how to have fun.” She declared, maybe a bit too defensively, maybe even challenging slightly.

[verdadurmaz]

If only Dax had taught her more, but Dale had taken it upon himself to guide her in the times she'd stopped by for a fresh bouquet of gorgeous flowers. "He's a nice guy when you get to know him. A little intimidating, but he knows flowers." It seemed silly to say, considering he was a florist and it was entirely his job to do so. It had only taken her by surprise when a man well over six feet had offered to help her pick out an assortment far more beautiful than she could have ever pieced together on her own. "I think so, yeah. It's not too much, but it's not underplayed either. It can sit in a room without being the only thing someone focuses on, but it can also be appreciated for it's beauty too." What was she even saying? She never decorated for Christmas (on her own, at least), but it sounded as if she'd taken a crash course on holiday decor.

@malloryhuitson

She smiled in relief that the woman didn't seem to mind about the miscommunication, deciding she might as well hear her out in case Dale wasn't done with the other customer for a short while yet. "They seem to know what they're doing, and if you've learned from them, I'll take your word for it." Mallory glanced back down at the wreath again. "You think so?" She was never one to ask for reassurance, but foliage wasn't exactly her strong suit. "It's always hard to find Christmas decor that's not...gauche."

@verdadurmaz

[max-cortez]

Complications piggybacked on every move he made. As a man nearing his forties, he should have been used to stumbling into a room unsteady on his feet. He chewed at the inside of his cheek as he weighed the options of walking away or sitting at the bar where Mallory had already staked her claim. At least a small crowd of overly eager companions hadn't formed. The downside? There was no pool table between them and game at hand to distract from the greater thoughts.

"Just how you like them," he countered smoothly, a hint of a devilish grin on his mouth from the wave of memories that had momentarily washed over him. There had been a time where he could have ordered her go-to drink at ten different locations around a city far too big for him. At least Providence Peak had its own fair share of quality bars too, this one far more sophisticated than the last establishment they'd crossed paths in.

Long day was an understatement, but his drink of choice had been a quick (and rather lazy) go-to. Everything else was over complicated by liquors he'd never heard of or oddly paired tastes for the sake of being literary. "Says it's a tribute to Dylan Thomas," he countered, gaze sweeping over the menu once more. A quick google search could have given them the answers they needed, but he wondered if she cared all that much. "You ever heard of him?"

@malloryhuitson

How was Mallory going to get through this? She eyed her half empty glass, almost as big as her head, and thought maybe a break from the tequila would do it, pushing it back slightly as if it had offended her, unsure whether to gance up at Max now he had closed the distance between them.

She had made a point to not head to the places she had run into him previously, as well as keep away from the tattoo parlor he worked at, and its surrounding stores. If HPF business was needed to be conducted there, she had enough employees to send out herself.

But now he was here, and she was here, and she was drunk and freshly separated, her very expensive lawyer trying to break some record on how quickly a divorce could be finalised. It was almost a lot to bear, and the brunette felt her breath hitch slightly.

"Strong and sour," Proud at being able to form somewhat of a sentence, she sat up straighter as she licked her top lip, wincing at how a couple of salt crystals from the rim of her glass seemed to have stuck to the skin, a low whistle emitting from her at his own drink order. "Sounds like you've had a long day. What book is Whiskey and Whiskey even referring to anyway?" Look, Mallory was a smart woman, but with her brain functioning at a third of her usual capacity, she was bordering on average intelligence. Plus, she never did care much for reading.

@max-cortez

[max-cortez]

Jaw clenched tight and heart thrummed violently as it pumped bitterness through his veins. She had options? Of course she did. "Quality over quantity." The retort fell lamely from his mouth, but he held a look of indifference. He knew how this worked and giving her an inch of satisfaction meant that she'd take a mile and then some. "I thought you would have known that." After all, wasn't that whole business mantra?

Fingers tapped against the wooden cue as gaze swiped over the table. There were a few shots to take, but none cleaner than the one she'd picked. Another ball was sank in her favor, leaving the small crew of onlookers to cheer quietly in hushed words of encouragement. It was a shame they all craved attention from a woman who'd never give it. At least, not in the way their fragile egos pleaded for.

To watch the high and mighty stumble, oh, how satisfying. His grin stretched wider at the corner of his mouth once more, the crooked look of amusement one she should have known well. "And what could I be doing to throw you off your game? I thought you were untouchable and I call bullshit on the whiskey," he countered, voice dropping lower as he neared her for a shot's purpose. He ignored the rush that came from her perfume, but the spinning in his head wasn't so easily ignored. "You could out drink every son of a bitch in this place. Me included," he added beneath his breath before he sank down, lined up a shot, and easily pocketed a solid. He shifted around the table without hesitation, lined up another shot, and sank another before failing to sink a third. "Looks like you've got some catching up to do."

There was a clever joke in there somewhere. But honestly, any wit left Mallory’s alcohol-soaked brain the minute Max positioned himself to shoot, her focus being wholly on the subtle flexing of his arms as he made his move. Instead, she focused on his other words, the goad on the tip of her tongue, wondering to swallow it down or not. “Of course I have options,” She murmured, softly. Any louder would have ruined it, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Biting her lip as she examined the balls, Mallory debated whether to show off by going for one of the less obvious choices, or take the easy win by the one directly near the pocket. It was a tough decision, considering the stakes, but went for the clear shot. Nothing wrong with taking the easy route, after all.

It landed easily, and something akin to elation filled her at that moment, though it was probably also accredited to the too many shooters she happily partook in before Max’s arrival. But in the moment, her walls down, she let out a small cheer, smiling at the man playing against her with a genuineness only saved with her daughter. The next shot wasn’t as clean, bouncing a bit more haphazardly across the velvet table and only scraping against a stripe. “For narrative’s sake, you’re throwing me off my game. That or the whiskey.”

[max-cortez]

Walking away could have spared them both of the ego challenge they were stepping into, but only of them would be deemed the winner. Any other night he would have put his money on her, damning himself to a loss. Whether it was spite that fueled him forwards, or an unhealed wound from their time together, he couldn't be sure. What he did know was that her emerald hues put every other shade of green to shame and if he looked too long, he'd be reminded of why he'd fallen into her so many times before and that... that couldn't happen again. "I know what I've got. What about you?"

Shooting pool came naturally to few, but he knew a thing or two about balance and how a delicate hand could go far. It wasn't about hitting the hardest shot, or sinking every ball the quickest. It was a game of logic where every move led to another and if one wasn't thinking ahead, mistakes were inevitable. Despite the confident front he wore so well, he didn't dare round the table to be any closer. He was close enough to the flames and having been burnt once, he knew better. Mostly. Had he learned anything at all, he wouldn't have still been standing there all too eager for his own good.

The sound of crashing balls pulled his gaze from her arched back. He'd seen her like that too many times to count, but it hadn't stopped heat that polling in the pit of his stomach. Instead, a wicked grin was etched on his mouth as he watched the balls settle, none having been pocketed with her break. "Yeah, appreciate it," he rattled off as he surveyed the table. Rather than taking the easy shot, he aligned his shot for another and with one deep breath, he pulled back on the cue and sent it darting forwards. Seconds later, he'd managed to pocket not one solid, but two. "Looks like I'm solids," he called out nonchalantly as he aligned for his third shot. It should have been an easy pocket, but it nicked the edge and robbed him of another turn. "You've got options." A few stripes lingered near pockets, but only one offered a clear shot after, while the others would make the next shot a bit more difficult.

That she did. Practically preening as if it were a compliment, she only watched Max, everyone else in the dingy bar an afterthought. A part of her felt pathetic, like she was going back on everything she had taught herself to be; unlearning how to be a cut throat successful woman, to be some sort of lovesick school girl. No one else had ever made her want to work this hard. Not the way Max did, how he made her feel despite all the times she pushed it down, and right now, in this bar surrounded by nobodies and him, she was willing to let herself feel for one more night. "Cortez, you don't need luck when you have skill."

She wondered if any of the onlookers felt jealous of her. There were a few women who had eyed over Max with interest (a voice in Mallory's head made a pointed remark that she wasn't allowed to care) but none were that interested in the pool table, not in the way of the regulars who were probably grateful for the change in their everyday routine. The blonde whipped round quickly, a few of the same gaggle of women occasionally staring at Max, and the smug part of her was tempted to wave at them in victory. No matter what happened previously, he still came back. Whether it was a fluke, or if he had as little self-preservation as she did, it was enough to fuel her arrogance.

It was with this cockiness that had her arching her back as she broke the perfect triangle, the billiard balls splaying across the green velvet in a synchronised, albeit violent, manner. It wasn't her best break, too focused on gauging a reaction rather than the game, but it was almost enough. One ball skidded to a stop right before the pocket, her eyes willing for it to drop. When it was clear it was one of the few things on the planet that wouldn't bend to her will, she shrugged, playing it off. "There, all lined up for you. It won't increase your chance of winning, but giving you a headstart seems only fair."

[max-cortez]

Even the devil would have scolded him for his own spite fueled curiosity. He'd played with fire once, but he'd been the one to burn the both of them. Had he not fled like an absolute coward, who was to say their entanglement wouldn't have still been burning brightly? Or dimly, seeing as it'd been their best kept secret. "I've never cared much for cards," he countered smoothly, gaze sweeping over the table before settling on her. He wasn't one for a game of luck or chance, because it never worked out in his favor anyway. Perhaps that was a driving force behind him leaving. Being with her was like a game of roulette. One never knew what they were going to get, but winning kept them coming back and a loss would have destroyed him.

But he couldn't allow her. He hadn't allowed that. He watched with a bated breath as she lowered herself into another shot. He and every other pair eyes in the room swept over her frame, though his own gaze landed directly on the table. Unlike the leeches in hopes of getting a taste, he'd already done that and then some. "I'm just speaking the only language you know. Glad it's working." His tone was steady and paired with a lazy grin coated in amusement. She could riddle her features with indifference, but he wouldn't dare hide the small taste of victory he'd found in that retort.

He could have guessed what was happening even without looking at the green. One 'awe' after another had given away her success. A huff of airy laughter fell smoothly from his mouth as he chalked the tip of his cue and shrugged. "This game wouldn't be any fun if it weren't so close." He couldn't deny the excitement of a potential win against her, but there was no disappointment in the idea of a loss either. As far as he was concerned, he'd won the moment she'd agreed to a game. "It's still you, no? Or did you miss and I wasn't looking?"

Whilst it was most likely improbable, some deep part of Mallory was going absolutely feral at even the slightest inkling of Max being potentially jealous. She wasn’t one to ease reassurances - she didn’t do mind games, never minced her words, so if people took issue with a perception of what she offered, it wasn’t on her to fix it. But right now, she wanted to reassure him. To set his mind at ease that whatever he was imagining was as far from the truth. But another part of her, fuelled by the day’s frustrations and the overall arrogant attitude in the bar knew not to, and not just because of the reason that he was the one who willingly fell in bed with a married woman. He wasn’t allowed to feel jealous about what she got up to, as much as she wasn’t about him. “If you play your cards right, and know what to look for…they’re not exactly mutually exclusive.” She told him instead.

If she were anyone else, that look would have made her cheeks heat up, to maybe even stammer slightly. But instead she looked on coolly, as if this whole exchange was boring her, to give Max the impression she was simply humoring him. Maybe ten minutes ago, she could have pretended to herself that she was, but now the only people she was kidding were the onlookers who were actually decent enough to mind their fucking business. She brushed past him wordlessly during his taunting, though couldn’t help the smirk on her lips when his third turn was a failure, lining herself up. 

“You call bullshit? When you’re doing nothing but spewing it?” She simply asked him, as if she wasn’t the one who had told him she was thrown off, just a second. It was what Mallory did best, spin stories to work in her favor. One ball sank in the pocket, then two. She lined up a third one, before pocketing it with ease, looking over at him, fluttering her eyelashes up at him. “Am I caught up yet? Perhaps you need a refresher lesson.” Truthfully, she wasn’t even bothered about the game anymore. The only reason she opted to play was to blow off some steam, though with Max’s involvement, Mallory had naturally gotten worked up again. But even though it was her turn in the physical game, metaphorically the ball was in his court now.

[max-cortez]

He had nothing more to lose and with her, there was everything to gain, even if it what was gained was nothing more than an innocent stroke of his ego. He needed that more than anything though, having just suffered the greatest loss he'd ever know in life. A loss that he'd kept to himself for weeks — a loss that soul shattering. It made everything else in life seem lackluster by comparison. Even if the sight of every jackass in the bar looking her up and down dared to ignite a jealous spark in his core.

"Patience is a virtue, right?" He blew out a huff of air and popped a brow towards one of the onlookers that had taken an interest in his lingering. Clearly he wasn't the only one looking for the next go around, but unfortunately for them, he wasn't willing to back down from the mark he'd made. "You should know me better than that. I've got no problem with waiting. I think you'd find I'm pretty damn good at it, actually." He'd given her all of his patience and time, only to be gifted with crumbs of her attention when her busy schedule allowed it.

Now, he had more control. He watched eagerly as her opponent sank a few shots with ease, but she'd already dealt enough damage to deem herself worthy as the winner. His gaze darkened with anticipation as he caught her line of sight. There was no chance of backing out, dignity be damned. "Nah, I think I'm good. Just remember what that shot feels like, 'cause it's the last time you'll be sinking the eight ball tonight."

What was he doing? It was harder to ignore him, especially since the crowd of spectators had begun to mutter about him. A part of her concerned with image wondered if they had connected the dots between her and Max, but the only thing that comforted Mallory was that no one cared what a bunch of drunks in a crappy bar thought anyway. But even so, she had to be careful, and the way he stood there, eyeing the table intensely, looking cool and cocky and tempting, was making it harder to make the logical steps.

"Well, I don't know about my friend here," She hadn't bothered to learn the poor bastard's name, and wasn't going to learn it now, "But I believe there's never a need to rush. If you can stand to be a little bit patient..." She tried to pay attention to her opponent's turn, to look anywhere but him, but found herself glancing up at him, because honestly, the man she was playing with had no skill or entertainment value. "Good things come to those who wait." As if to prove her point, the man completely miscalculated his position, her turn coming almost too soon, forcing herself to divert her attention from Max.

The rest of the game went by in a blur, working on auto-pilot. Whilst her opponent seemed to have gathered some sort of talent - possibly a hustle trick of his own - he played it too late, considering how ahead she was. Then, it was only the black ball left and she lined herself up, looking back at Max. "Still want to take on the winner? Last chance to leave with your dignity in check." Smirk on her face, challenge hanging in the air, and as far as the blonde was concerned, no one else in the bar mattered right now.

[max-cortez]

He was in desperate need of a break, one that didn't involve sulking by himself in an empty house or waiting for his partner in emotional distress to become available. His shift at the tattoo shop had been quite uneventful and after tossing eight sheets of a sketch that just wasn't clicking, he'd said his goodbyes and hoped that a reset was the very thing he needed. He lingered by his bike for a few minutes, the temptation to reach out to Chey all too high. He'd smothered her enough with his presence and for all he knew, she needed a break too.

Every ounce of courage that he'd mustered was drained from his veins the moment his darkened gaze fell on hers. It was no surprise that a small group had taken interest in the game she was playing. She had a tendency to capture a whole room's worth of attention with every move she made. It was the power in her presence, the mystery wrapped in a devilishly gorgeous frame. Everyone wanted to get closer, but few could handle the burn. He'd handled it though. Hell, he'd enjoyed the heat of being near her. Even now, emotions skewed, he preferred the burn over the lingering pain that he feared would never go away.

He watched as she took a terrible shot, one that wasn't like her. So, instead of a short trek to the bar, he detoured to the table where his hands found solace against the wooden frame opposite of where she stood. He could feel the curious eyes on him, knew that her opponent was shooting him a nasty look too. "Let me guess, I'm looking at the reigning champion, huh? Maybe when you're done playing with these guys, you'll want to give a real opponent a chance."

location: the jagged yard

status: closed for @max-cortez

It wasn’t often that Mallory had bad days. But, alas, she was only human and was just as subject to them as anyone else in town. A deal had gone back, a client threatened to walk, and some jurisdiction prevented something - honestly, she had blocked the legal jargon out of her mind when she began to see red in the corner of her vision. Not wanting to go home, and stand in her empty McMansion where her daughter was on the other side of the country, in the shell of a house that lacked any warmth or anything that could remotely distract her from this, she opted to go for a drink, pulling up at the first dive bar she saw. A few shots later, her spirits already up when she decided to hustle some of the regulars at Pool, a favorite pastime of hers. One of them had bought another round of tequila shots after losing a bet about Mallory making a trick shot, that she knocked back with a manic smile despite the burn in her throat. She had positioned herself at the table, ready for her next move, stopping only when she noticed Max enter the bar. It was different circumstances at the juice bar, where other social rules applied. But here, in the real bar, where she could feel the alcohol buzzing through her bloodstream and her tongue loose, it probably wasn’t optimal to speak to him. So instead, when they made brief eye contact, she merely nodded in acknowledgement, before lining up the cue, the shot that would have been powerful lacking in strength, the regulars whistling and mocking around her.  “Maybe I’m just making the playing field even, since you’re all so terrible. What’s the point of spending all day in a bar if you don’t use the time to make yourself good at something?” She snapped, though she knew her game was off due to his presence in the bar, glancing over at him one more time as she took a swig of someone’s beer, hoping he didn’t see her fumble.

[max-cortez]

For the longest time, and even now, he wondered if any of it were real. If the not so rare nights of laying tangled together while the moon sang and the stars shined, if she had ever wanted anything more or if it'd been an escape of convenience from the life she'd built and wasn't happy with. He'd accepted every answer that ever crossed his mind, but some stung more than others, but in the end, he had convinced himself that none of it really mattered. "Aren't we all?" He flashed a weak grin, one where an ounce of sadness could be found if she wanted to see it. Truly, he expected nothing to be noticed anymore. They'd had their time apart, she'd fallen back into her life and now this was their best attempt at pretending that nothing had ever happened. That he didn't know her past the strong exterior she offered to the world; that he'd never cracked open the shell of Mallory Huitson to see that there was more to powerhouse of the woman some feared.

Max offered two palms in submission and shook his head slowly. "No need to take anything back. I can accept it." He shouldn't have though. He should let her words roll off him like a droplet of water against his worn leather jacket. If he'd done that, then it would have led him down a dangerous path of wondering what was on her mind. Had she missed him? Had she told her husband everything, or had she written their affair off for a silly mistake? He swallowed down the thickness in his throat and opted to save that thought for another time. "Right," he mumbled under his breath, tone a bit bitter by comparison to the playful pitch it'd held earlier. Of course she didn't want to discuss her husband with the man she'd been with on the side and truly, Max didn't want to mention him any further either. "I know. I figured that out a long time ago. I'm doing just fine. Maybe you'll figure out how to have some fun too."

Mallory knew his question was a joke, or at least she assumed it was, but she still shifted uncomfortably. Her mother had once told her, during an argument when she had been a teenager, that she really enjoyed making things difficult for herself. Was that still true? She loved a challenge, to really get her hands dirty with work or navigating her daughter’s teenage years from a mother’s perspective. But was it the case for this…flirtation? Did she seek the thrill of potentially getting caught, or the sickening waves of guilt because she deserved it? Staying up late purely to try and make a choice about her future, her happiness. How she had let Max see the most vulnerable parts of her, and then let him leave. No, she wouldn’t overanalyse, not in the fucking juice store anyway. Pushing down her feelings, something second nature to her at this point, she responded, smirking though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Ive been told I’m more of a sadist.”

“I compliment people who deserve it, but I can gladly take back what I said, if you have some sort of problem.” Nothing irritated her more than when people couldn’t let something go, like a dog with a bone annoyingly barking until you had to entertain it. Mallory may have recognised her reputation, but she wasn’t a heartless monster, as some liked to believe because they couldn’t handle being liked. But then again, maybe she should stop trying to prove it to those who probably wouldn’t shift their opinion. Because, to Max, she was some trollop who risked a good thing for some fun. And she’d let him believe it, because it was easier. “I’ll make a note to never utter a compliment from my lips again.” When he started talking about her husband, Mallory gently shook her head. “Stop.” The command was soft, unlike the usual way she sniped at people. “He’s not coming here, end of conversation.” And for Max, it was. Robert’s reluctance to move from DC to Colorado wasn’t any of his business, and she’d prefer it that way. “You can have fun in other ways.”