#ezra && cynthia 01

[ofgrenvde]

closed starter @c0exiist - cynthia zhang

In a move that would've made a linebacker proud, Ezra barreled straight into the figure before him, managing to catch her arms before they both went down. Her constant appearances around the city warranted his suspicion, especially with the rise of Onyx Circuit activity. But irritation mixed with a dose of guilt, since he'd nearly bulldozed her over. "Fantastic. You again. Tell me why I keep finding you in places you shouldn't be?" He released her quickly, needing distance. Something about this woman made him question his own judgment. Every instinct screamed she was dangerous, yet she projected such a convincing image of innocence that he second-guessed his read. 

The last time he'd rescued her from face-planting, he thought he’d never see her again. Yet here they were, face to face once more. Professional paranoia demanded he keep away from her. "I'm starting to think you're following me around on purpose." His tone stayed light, but he studied her response with the same focus he gave his security feeds. The near-collision left him rattled in ways that had nothing to do with physical balance. She represented exactly the kind of variable that disrupted his control, and after what happened in Chicago, he didn’t like knowing exactly who he was dealing with. She threw him completely off balance—like trying to solve a Rubik's cube where the colors kept changing every time he blinked. The more he tried to figure her out, the less sense she made.

[ofgrenvde]

Calling isolation messy wasn’t just accurate—it was uncomfortably precise. She hadn’t danced around the issue; she’d gone straight to the truth, bypassing every excuse he’d worked so hard to keep in place. When he finally answered, it felt like admitting something he hadn’t even fully admitted to himself. “Maybe you’re right about the haunting part,” he said, the words emerging before he could overthink them. He tried to soften the moment by pushing back against her choice of words. “But I wouldn’t say I’m avoidant. Strategically distant fits better, don’t you think?” The phrase felt flimsy even as he said it, and he could tell she saw through it. Still, the way she teased him about packing himself into carry-on luggage earned a laugh from him—one he hadn’t expected to give. Humor, even sharp humor, felt safer than letting her insights sit too long. “I’d never assume anything about your luggage. You strike me as checked baggage, unpredictable, and probably carrying something that would get flagged at security.” The words came out smoother than he expected, though he immediately wondered if he’d gone too far.

Her feigned offense didn’t throw him off as much as he thought it might. She had brought up consequences and rewards, after all—he was just following her lead. But the speed with which she revealed her business card was almost disarming. He hadn’t expected her to push things forward so decisively, and the fact that he wanted to use it surprised him. “A trust fall? You'll just have to wait and see.” The suggestion felt foreign on his tongue, like he was trying to remember how to navigate this kind of thing. “Location’s a surprise,” he added quickly, almost reflexively. “Not because I’m being dramatic—just because it has good sightlines. And exits.” He caught himself too late, realizing how easily his usual thought process had slipped out. “I mean, great ambiance. Really nice wine list.” The correction felt clumsy, but her laugh at his expense somehow made it worth it.

As he took the card, he felt the need to temper her expectations. “Just so you know, I’ve been told I’m not the best company. Apparently, I ruin the mood by always keeping an eye on the room.” He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this, but it felt necessary. Maybe honesty made things easier—or at least more manageable. “But since you’ve already figured out I’m a bit of a downer, at least you won’t be disappointed.” He paused, running through whether or not to say the next part. “Text me when you’re free. I promise I won’t run a background check first.” The joke slipped out before he could stop himself. “Mostly.” He slipped the card into his pocket with more care than was probably necessary, like it might disappear if he wasn’t careful. “Having protective gear wouldn’t be a bad idea. Just in case tackling becomes a theme.”

“Well I for one find it messy.” countered Cynthia with a grimace settled on her lips. She knew he would want her to elaborate on that and so she explained further, “The idea of it makes it seem like it’s cleaner, but the way I see it—you’re an avoidant, you run from it because it’s the easiest option. You’re a mess at that point. You become your own worst critic, take in the doubts and the what ifs. Isolation is just a haunting lifestyle as it sticks with you until you come to terms with it.” Finishing up her drink, she set it aside as she sat up straight with intrigue. Things were about to get interesting as he spoke on his doubts about her. It seems like he knows more than he had led on. “You seem to know a lot.” she commented at first. “So you think I fit in a carry-on?” Now she was just fucking with him. 

Matching energies with each other, at this point the two were like a match made in hell. Like Ezra had mentioned, despite the two having their caffeine intake, this was becoming a bit of a complicated interaction. The tug of war that they were doing wasn't helping their case seeing as they were pushing their luck to see who would fold first. However, Cynthia wasn’t going to give in that easily. “And suddenly I’m the bad guy.” she announced with a scoff. “Deliberate my ass, again you wish. What’s there to ask? As much as I believe that everything happens for a reason, I wouldn’t force it to happen if it’s not in the cards.” There was partial truth to her words, but she’d be dumb enough to confess that she was snooping around the notorious Six Families’ territories for her own gain. 

Cynthia was at a loss for words when he decided on wanting dinner as his second reward. The look of disbelief with a touch of bewilderment soon disappeared as laughter erupted from her lips. "Is this like a trust fall exercise? And where exactly would that place be?" she teasingly asked when he mentioned no security cameras. Nodding in confirmation, she then pulled out her business card and a pen as she wrote down her actual number before handing it to him. "Alright then, here's my number. We can figure out when we're both available then, yeah?"

[c0exiist]

“Well I for one find it messy.” countered Cynthia with a grimace settled on her lips. She knew he would want her to elaborate on that and so she explained further, “The idea of it makes it seem like it’s cleaner, but the way I see it—you’re an avoidant, you run from it because it’s the easiest option. You’re a mess at that point. You become your own worst critic, take in the doubts and the what ifs. Isolation is just a haunting lifestyle as it sticks with you until you come to terms with it.” Finishing up her drink, she set it aside as she sat up straight with intrigue. Things were about to get interesting as he spoke on his doubts about her. It seems like he knows more than he had led on. “You seem to know a lot.” she commented at first. “So you think I fit in a carry-on?” Now she was just fucking with him. 

Matching energies with each other, at this point the two were like a match made in hell. Like Ezra had mentioned, despite the two having their caffeine intake, this was becoming a bit of a complicated interaction. The tug of war that they were doing wasn't helping their case seeing as they were pushing their luck to see who would fold first. However, Cynthia wasn’t going to give in that easily. “And suddenly I’m the bad guy.” she announced with a scoff. “Deliberate my ass, again you wish. What’s there to ask? As much as I believe that everything happens for a reason, I wouldn’t force it to happen if it’s not in the cards.” There was partial truth to her words, but she’d be dumb enough to confess that she was snooping around the notorious Six Families’ territories for her own gain. 

Cynthia was at a loss for words when he decided on wanting dinner as his second reward. The look of disbelief with a touch of bewilderment soon disappeared as laughter erupted from her lips. "Is this like a trust fall exercise? And where exactly would that place be?" she teasingly asked when he mentioned no security cameras. Nodding in confirmation, she then pulled out her business card and a pen as she wrote down her actual number before handing it to him. "Alright then, here's my number. We can figure out when we're both available then, yeah?"

Ezra mulled over her question about solitude. "Both," he said simply. "It's cleaner that way." The crushing loneliness seemed better than getting close to people, but she made him question that logic for the first time in forever. Solitude was his security blanket—familiar and safe, even if it left him cold most nights. Something about her direct question cut through his usual defenses, making him wonder if he'd chosen isolation or if it had chosen him. Her easy shift between sharp observations and casual chat about her dog fascinated him. Each new detail revealed another side of her he hadn't expected. "Petite doesn't mean harmless," he said, thinking of several deadly individuals who barely cleared five feet. "Some of the most dangerous people I know could probably fit in a carry-on bag."

The comment slipped out before he could catch it, but she was already leaning forward with that calculating smile, throwing him off balance again. He'd seen too many small but lethal things in his time to ever judge danger by size, including the woman sitting across from him right now. Her smile said she knew exactly what kind of chaos she could cause—and wasn't afraid to use it. The slip about dangerous people bothered him less than how much he wanted to find out just how dangerous she could be. Her offer of another reward scattered his thoughts completely.

"You know, coffee was supposed to make thinking clearer, not more complicated," he said, stalling while he got his bearings. "Though I should point out—you're the one making implications now. First collision could be an accident. Second time starts looking deliberate." He leaned forward to match her pose, lowering his voice. "So maybe I should be asking what you hoped would happen when you ran into me this time." Her earlier comment about them being strangers stuck with him. She was right—they were strangers. He had no business feeling drawn to her or wanting to understand what made her tick. But something about her pulled him in despite years of keeping everyone at arm's length. Maybe it was how she balanced playful comments with real insight, or how she saw through his walls without trying to break them down.

"As for rewards—" He paused, considering his next move. "How about dinner? Somewhere without security cameras, even." The invitation surprised him as much as it probably surprised her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd asked someone to dinner just because he wanted to. But here he was, breaking his own rules because something about her made him want to take risks he'd given up years ago.

[ofgrenvde]

Ezra mulled over her question about solitude. "Both," he said simply. "It's cleaner that way." The crushing loneliness seemed better than getting close to people, but she made him question that logic for the first time in forever. Solitude was his security blanket—familiar and safe, even if it left him cold most nights. Something about her direct question cut through his usual defenses, making him wonder if he'd chosen isolation or if it had chosen him. Her easy shift between sharp observations and casual chat about her dog fascinated him. Each new detail revealed another side of her he hadn't expected. "Petite doesn't mean harmless," he said, thinking of several deadly individuals who barely cleared five feet. "Some of the most dangerous people I know could probably fit in a carry-on bag."

The comment slipped out before he could catch it, but she was already leaning forward with that calculating smile, throwing him off balance again. He'd seen too many small but lethal things in his time to ever judge danger by size, including the woman sitting across from him right now. Her smile said she knew exactly what kind of chaos she could cause—and wasn't afraid to use it. The slip about dangerous people bothered him less than how much he wanted to find out just how dangerous she could be. Her offer of another reward scattered his thoughts completely.

"You know, coffee was supposed to make thinking clearer, not more complicated," he said, stalling while he got his bearings. "Though I should point out—you're the one making implications now. First collision could be an accident. Second time starts looking deliberate." He leaned forward to match her pose, lowering his voice. "So maybe I should be asking what you hoped would happen when you ran into me this time." Her earlier comment about them being strangers stuck with him. She was right—they were strangers. He had no business feeling drawn to her or wanting to understand what made her tick. But something about her pulled him in despite years of keeping everyone at arm's length. Maybe it was how she balanced playful comments with real insight, or how she saw through his walls without trying to break them down.

"As for rewards—" He paused, considering his next move. "How about dinner? Somewhere without security cameras, even." The invitation surprised him as much as it probably surprised her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd asked someone to dinner just because he wanted to. But here he was, breaking his own rules because something about her made him want to take risks he'd given up years ago.

Despite being composed, Cynthia knew she was treading rough waters when it came to showcasing her own vulnerability. In fact, these kinds of conversations rarely occur to her and seeing that she was finding a middle ground between honesty and a boundary demonstrated the effort that she was putting into it to exhibit her authenticity at a distance. A grimace crept onto her lips as she felt a pang in her chest and her old self resurface. While she did enjoy the money that came with her new life, she did find it lonely in a sense that she was doing it all for a purpose of her own vindication. Regardless of her new found families, career, and objective, she knew she’d have to deal with the aftermath and despite her determination, a looming thought of what her ‘after’ may look like was something that she’d been avoiding since she gave her life away to the Zhangs. 

“Ah, I see…” she finally said with a nod. The deflection from Ezra was warranted, but it didn’t stop Cynthia from asking, “So you prefer to live a life of solitude for your own or for others sake?” As she sipped her drink, she then placed it on the table before crossing her arms and continuing with, “Professional buzzkill is right up your alley, but you know you don’t always have to be the bad guy. Although, I do find it interesting how you’re a stickler for rules…You’ll always have rule breakers no matter what, but I guess that’s what pays the bills for you.” She then laughed at the debate topic and shrugged, “They’re a package deal in my eyes, but if we’re talking about now? I suppose since I own a cane corso that’s practically like a son to me, I’d have to pick dogs…The horses are more so a hobby at the moment rather than a retirement plan.” 

It was probably safer for the both of them to stick to lighter topics to keep their true identities afloat. Therefore, Cynthia entertained Ezra’s response by responding in a fake offended tone, “Pft, I’m not broke…And tackle you? Look at me. I’m just a girl, a petite one at that.” She then tilted her head and dropped the act as a cunning smile appeared on her lips, “Now why would I want to fall into the arms of a mysterious, professional buzzkill? Sure, you're a sight for sore eyes and so far, probably the most entertainment I've had this week, but the way I see it, we're strangers at the end of the day—who just happened to accidentally bump into each other on two separate occasions." Leaning forward, she then lowly added, "If you are implying something Ezra, you might as well come out with it." She then sat up straight as she tucked a couple strand of hairs behind her ear and maintained her gaze on him, "I've bought you coffee for the one instance. What reward would you like for the second?"

[c0exiist]

Despite being composed, Cynthia knew she was treading rough waters when it came to showcasing her own vulnerability. In fact, these kinds of conversations rarely occur to her and seeing that she was finding a middle ground between honesty and a boundary demonstrated the effort that she was putting into it to exhibit her authenticity at a distance. A grimace crept onto her lips as she felt a pang in her chest and her old self resurface. While she did enjoy the money that came with her new life, she did find it lonely in a sense that she was doing it all for a purpose of her own vindication. Regardless of her new found families, career, and objective, she knew she’d have to deal with the aftermath and despite her determination, a looming thought of what her ‘after’ may look like was something that she’d been avoiding since she gave her life away to the Zhangs. 

“Ah, I see…” she finally said with a nod. The deflection from Ezra was warranted, but it didn’t stop Cynthia from asking, “So you prefer to live a life of solitude for your own or for others sake?” As she sipped her drink, she then placed it on the table before crossing her arms and continuing with, “Professional buzzkill is right up your alley, but you know you don’t always have to be the bad guy. Although, I do find it interesting how you’re a stickler for rules…You’ll always have rule breakers no matter what, but I guess that’s what pays the bills for you.” She then laughed at the debate topic and shrugged, “They’re a package deal in my eyes, but if we’re talking about now? I suppose since I own a cane corso that’s practically like a son to me, I’d have to pick dogs…The horses are more so a hobby at the moment rather than a retirement plan.” 

It was probably safer for the both of them to stick to lighter topics to keep their true identities afloat. Therefore, Cynthia entertained Ezra’s response by responding in a fake offended tone, “Pft, I’m not broke…And tackle you? Look at me. I’m just a girl, a petite one at that.” She then tilted her head and dropped the act as a cunning smile appeared on her lips, “Now why would I want to fall into the arms of a mysterious, professional buzzkill? Sure, you're a sight for sore eyes and so far, probably the most entertainment I've had this week, but the way I see it, we're strangers at the end of the day—who just happened to accidentally bump into each other on two separate occasions." Leaning forward, she then lowly added, "If you are implying something Ezra, you might as well come out with it." She then sat up straight as she tucked a couple strand of hairs behind her ear and maintained her gaze on him, "I've bought you coffee for the one instance. What reward would you like for the second?"

His chest constricted at her quiet "doesn't it get lonely?" She completely demolished his defenses with that single question, bypassing all his cynical jokes and practiced distance. She had no right making him question his isolation—especially not while looking at him with that genuine concern. Something inside him shifted when she talked about generational trauma and family legacy like it was nothing. He recognized that particular brand of resignation, having seen it countless times in his old life. People trapped by circumstances beyond their control, forced into roles they never chose. Part of him wanted to dig deeper, to understand what had shaped her into this fascinating contradiction who could jump from playful banter to raw honesty in the space of a breath. But he knew better than to pry—he'd lost that right when he failed to protect the last people who trusted him with their secrets. "Lonely implies I miss having people around," he said finally, his shoulders shrugging. "Can't miss what you never really had, right?" The attempt at deflection felt weak even to his own ears.

Her question about his work snapped him back to safer ground. "Oh, you know—this and that. Professional buzzkill, mostly." The evasion came automatically, years of habit kicking in. "I make sure people follow rules they'd rather ignore." It wasn't exactly a lie, just a carefully edited version of truth. The need to be real with her caught him off guard, despite knowing full disclosure wasn't possible. "Let's move past my scintillating life in paranoia," he said. "You still haven't settled the great ranch debate—horses versus dogs." The shift felt clumsy, but he needed to steer them back toward lighter topics before he said something he couldn't take back. Her earlier comment about breaking generational trauma had struck too close to home. He'd spent years trying to break free from his own legacy of violence and betrayal, only to end up right back in it—just from a different angle. At least she'd been honest about joining what she couldn't beat. He was still pretending he could somehow make it all mean something more than survival.

"And for the record, I technically haven't assaulted anyone. You're the one who keeps trying to tackle me in public. I'm starting to think it's part of an elaborate insurance scam." The joke felt good—natural in a way he hadn't experienced in years. She brought out this side of him he'd thought long buried under layers of cynicism and careful distance. It should have terrified him, how easily she slipped past his defenses. Instead, he found himself wanting to see what other reactions she could pull from him. “I’ll admit, your dedication to the bit is impressive. Two separate collision attempts? That's commitment." His mouth quirked up in a half-smile as he waited for her response, wondering what other surprises she had in store.

[ofgrenvde]

His chest constricted at her quiet "doesn't it get lonely?" She completely demolished his defenses with that single question, bypassing all his cynical jokes and practiced distance. She had no right making him question his isolation—especially not while looking at him with that genuine concern. Something inside him shifted when she talked about generational trauma and family legacy like it was nothing. He recognized that particular brand of resignation, having seen it countless times in his old life. People trapped by circumstances beyond their control, forced into roles they never chose. Part of him wanted to dig deeper, to understand what had shaped her into this fascinating contradiction who could jump from playful banter to raw honesty in the space of a breath. But he knew better than to pry—he'd lost that right when he failed to protect the last people who trusted him with their secrets. "Lonely implies I miss having people around," he said finally, his shoulders shrugging. "Can't miss what you never really had, right?" The attempt at deflection felt weak even to his own ears.

Her question about his work snapped him back to safer ground. "Oh, you know—this and that. Professional buzzkill, mostly." The evasion came automatically, years of habit kicking in. "I make sure people follow rules they'd rather ignore." It wasn't exactly a lie, just a carefully edited version of truth. The need to be real with her caught him off guard, despite knowing full disclosure wasn't possible. "Let's move past my scintillating life in paranoia," he said. "You still haven't settled the great ranch debate—horses versus dogs." The shift felt clumsy, but he needed to steer them back toward lighter topics before he said something he couldn't take back. Her earlier comment about breaking generational trauma had struck too close to home. He'd spent years trying to break free from his own legacy of violence and betrayal, only to end up right back in it—just from a different angle. At least she'd been honest about joining what she couldn't beat. He was still pretending he could somehow make it all mean something more than survival.

"And for the record, I technically haven't assaulted anyone. You're the one who keeps trying to tackle me in public. I'm starting to think it's part of an elaborate insurance scam." The joke felt good—natural in a way he hadn't experienced in years. She brought out this side of him he'd thought long buried under layers of cynicism and careful distance. It should have terrified him, how easily she slipped past his defenses. Instead, he found himself wanting to see what other reactions she could pull from him. “I’ll admit, your dedication to the bit is impressive. Two separate collision attempts? That's commitment." His mouth quirked up in a half-smile as he waited for her response, wondering what other surprises she had in store.

“Mmm, I’m sure you take naps cause then you’d be dead by now if you didn’t.” Cynthia teased. However, she understood that sleep can be subjective depending on the person’s lifestyle. It’s not like she got those perfect 8 hours of sleep on her end, especially when she was living a double, if not triple life with her association with the Onyx Circuit and Zhang family. “Clearly we’re interpreting this differently, cause if anything the strangers are making it become a habit! Besides, it’s not my fault that they flock towards me. I’m a victim. In fact, you should be thanking me that I’m not charging you with assault.” she replied in a blameless, yet joking fashion while she sipped her drink in peace.

Perhaps that could have been her calling if she hadn’t been stripped of her childhood, growth and dreams. However, she didn’t want to dwell on it too much since the possibilities of how her life could have panned out would have been endless. While death changed her, Devil’s Junction ruined her and now here she was, playing a game of pretend. Right now, it didn’t help that despite the nature of work and intentions, she was feeling a sense of confusion, yet an interest in continuing whatever she and Ezra were doing. It’s been a while since she felt this spark of energy and for once, it didn’t feel unsettling. “Exactly, you understand.” she said with a gentle smile. “But overall, it’s more freedom and well, we deserve that at some point in our lives from whatever holds us back.” 

Cynthia was slightly surprised that he answered her question. She thought with his initial outburst, he would give her a vague answer or told her to fuck off. However, this evidently showed the two were getting comfortable in each other’s presence. “I’m sorry that happened to you…” she genuinely replied. It was a shitty outcome and she resonated with it. “I agree that it is easier to keep your distance from everyone and everything, but…” Her voice trailed off before she met his gaze and asked, “Doesn’t it get lonely?” Ezra's inquiry about her career, was a valid question since she disclosed it herself and so, she remained honest in her own way. "Family and a legacy. It was all I knew growing up and...Let's just say, I'm a product of failure when it comes to breaking generational trauma." Shrugging, she ended it with, "Besides, if you can't beat them, join them and that's what I did. Now are you going to share what you do or keep it a mystery for me, hm?"

[c0exiist]

“Mmm, I’m sure you take naps cause then you’d be dead by now if you didn’t.” Cynthia teased. However, she understood that sleep can be subjective depending on the person’s lifestyle. It’s not like she got those perfect 8 hours of sleep on her end, especially when she was living a double, if not triple life with her association with the Onyx Circuit and Zhang family. “Clearly we’re interpreting this differently, cause if anything the strangers are making it become a habit! Besides, it’s not my fault that they flock towards me. I’m a victim. In fact, you should be thanking me that I’m not charging you with assault.” she replied in a blameless, yet joking fashion while she sipped her drink in peace.

Perhaps that could have been her calling if she hadn’t been stripped of her childhood, growth and dreams. However, she didn’t want to dwell on it too much since the possibilities of how her life could have panned out would have been endless. While death changed her, Devil’s Junction ruined her and now here she was, playing a game of pretend. Right now, it didn’t help that despite the nature of work and intentions, she was feeling a sense of confusion, yet an interest in continuing whatever she and Ezra were doing. It’s been a while since she felt this spark of energy and for once, it didn’t feel unsettling. “Exactly, you understand.” she said with a gentle smile. “But overall, it’s more freedom and well, we deserve that at some point in our lives from whatever holds us back.” 

Cynthia was slightly surprised that he answered her question. She thought with his initial outburst, he would give her a vague answer or told her to fuck off. However, this evidently showed the two were getting comfortable in each other’s presence. “I’m sorry that happened to you…” she genuinely replied. It was a shitty outcome and she resonated with it. “I agree that it is easier to keep your distance from everyone and everything, but…” Her voice trailed off before she met his gaze and asked, “Doesn’t it get lonely?” Ezra's inquiry about her career, was a valid question since she disclosed it herself and so, she remained honest in her own way. "Family and a legacy. It was all I knew growing up and...Let's just say, I'm a product of failure when it comes to breaking generational trauma." Shrugging, she ended it with, "Besides, if you can't beat them, join them and that's what I did. Now are you going to share what you do or keep it a mystery for me, hm?"

Her quick acceptance of his sharp response and immediate shift away from the topic caught him off guard. Most people would have pushed, demanded explanations, tried to crack open his walls to peek at the darkness inside. That was new. Typically when he snapped at someone, they'd either get defensive or dig deeper—both reactions he knew how to handle. It rattled him how easily she stepped away from that line he'd drawn. He'd built up all these practiced responses for people trying to pry into his past, but she didn't even try to peek through the cracks. Maybe that's what unsettled him most—she respected his boundaries without making him feel like he needed them. The urge to apologize rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back down. He didn't deserve forgiveness, not when his carelessness had gotten so many killed. A real hero would have protected them better, would have seen the danger coming. Instead, he'd played both sides until it all came crashing down. The blood of too many people stained his hands, their families torn apart because he'd thought he had everything under control.

The random comment about his caffeine habits pulled him back from the edge of those memories. He snorted, finding unexpected humor in her concern for his sleep schedule. "Who says I sleep at all?" he asked, the words coming easier now that they'd moved to safer ground. Her dramatic confession about being clumsy drew a low chuckle from him. "I hadn't noticed. Here I thought you made a habit of literally running into strangers." For the first time in forever, the words flowed without feeling forced. The passion in her voice when she talked about party planning blindsided him. She painted quite the picture—switching between party planning perfectionist and coffee-fueled rebel—and he couldn't help getting pulled into the story.

"Sounds like you found your calling," he said, dead serious under his laid-back delivery. "Though I have to agree about the ranch plan. Less small talk with entitled guests, more honest conversations with horses." The crack about his dark aura made him pause. He could deflect, change the subject, keep the careful distance he kept from everyone. But something about her direct approach made him want to offer a real answer. "Earned it the hard way," he said finally. "Made some choices I can't take back, trusted the wrong people. Now I just try to keep my distance, makes it harder for anyone else to get hurt." He took another sip of coffee, studying her over the rim of his cup. "Your turn. What made you trade the excitement of party planning for spreadsheets and delegate duties?" Most people showed you exactly who they wanted you to see—she seemed to throw all her paradoxes right on the table without hesitation. Maybe that's why he kept asking questions, trying to piece together this puzzle of a woman who jumped from party planning to corporate life without missing a beat.

[ofgrenvde]

Her quick acceptance of his sharp response and immediate shift away from the topic caught him off guard. Most people would have pushed, demanded explanations, tried to crack open his walls to peek at the darkness inside. That was new. Typically when he snapped at someone, they'd either get defensive or dig deeper—both reactions he knew how to handle. It rattled him how easily she stepped away from that line he'd drawn. He'd built up all these practiced responses for people trying to pry into his past, but she didn't even try to peek through the cracks. Maybe that's what unsettled him most—she respected his boundaries without making him feel like he needed them. The urge to apologize rose in his throat, but he swallowed it back down. He didn't deserve forgiveness, not when his carelessness had gotten so many killed. A real hero would have protected them better, would have seen the danger coming. Instead, he'd played both sides until it all came crashing down. The blood of too many people stained his hands, their families torn apart because he'd thought he had everything under control.

The random comment about his caffeine habits pulled him back from the edge of those memories. He snorted, finding unexpected humor in her concern for his sleep schedule. "Who says I sleep at all?" he asked, the words coming easier now that they'd moved to safer ground. Her dramatic confession about being clumsy drew a low chuckle from him. "I hadn't noticed. Here I thought you made a habit of literally running into strangers." For the first time in forever, the words flowed without feeling forced. The passion in her voice when she talked about party planning blindsided him. She painted quite the picture—switching between party planning perfectionist and coffee-fueled rebel—and he couldn't help getting pulled into the story.

"Sounds like you found your calling," he said, dead serious under his laid-back delivery. "Though I have to agree about the ranch plan. Less small talk with entitled guests, more honest conversations with horses." The crack about his dark aura made him pause. He could deflect, change the subject, keep the careful distance he kept from everyone. But something about her direct approach made him want to offer a real answer. "Earned it the hard way," he said finally. "Made some choices I can't take back, trusted the wrong people. Now I just try to keep my distance, makes it harder for anyone else to get hurt." He took another sip of coffee, studying her over the rim of his cup. "Your turn. What made you trade the excitement of party planning for spreadsheets and delegate duties?" Most people showed you exactly who they wanted you to see—she seemed to throw all her paradoxes right on the table without hesitation. Maybe that's why he kept asking questions, trying to piece together this puzzle of a woman who jumped from party planning to corporate life without missing a beat.

Ezra’s sharp tone was noticed by Cynthia as she felt like she had crossed a line. To think being a hero would be a trigger not only made her curious, but piqued her interest behind the truth that he was hiding. In that moment, she had a split second to react appropriately and her choice was to come to a compromise. Her gaze softened as she simply nodded in understanding, “Alright, noted…My apologies.” she replied while looking away and opening up her wallet to pull out a couple of bills. Unfazed, she showed a level of respect knowing that he wanted no part in such conversation and so her attention diverted to the barista taking their order as Cynthia remained poised and collected, exhibiting nothing but a warmth and an uplifting attitude as she did a bit of small talk, complimenting and learning about the place. 

Her nose scrunched slightly after hearing Ezra’s order, he wasn’t over exaggerating the whole ‘black is my mood’ type vibe and she couldn’t help, but comment on that factor. “There goes your beauty sleep.” she muttered before sharing her order of a cappuccino. She paid and dumped the rest of her cash into the tip jar before grabbing her drink and following Ezra to the table he had chosen. Taking a seat, she crossed her legs and sipped in silence while listening attentively to what he had to say. The silver lining here was that he didn’t kick her out after providing half of such repayment and to her a win is a win, no matter how big or small it is. Tilting her head slightly, she kept her hands wrapped around her cup as she focused on the warm temperature to keep her grounded. It was a fair question, but there were indeed endless responses that may come with it—especially for a woman like Cynthia. "That I'm actually clumsy as fuck around mysterious strangers." she deadpanned with a shrug. "But you already know that."

A playful smile crept onto her lips before deciding on an actual response. "I think I was an event planner in my past life." Her tone was a bit dramatic and dreamy as a sigh escaped her lips. Suddenly she lifted a finger to quickly add, "And before you say that's boring...I deal with money for a living and I constantly delegate, so being on the other side of things was quite the experience. Although, I truly felt like I nailed it my employee's grand retirement party—Mr. Johnson is a hard man to please after all, but left with such a smile that I've never seen in my 4 years of working there." She paused before shaking her head and said, "However, after all that meticulous planning, I still feel like I'd rather stick to owning a ranch with horses and dogs for my retirement plan than doing all that. Less wrinkles for me.” Arching a brow, she wondered if he would reciprocate a question that crossed her mind, “So what's with the dark aura?...Were you naturally born with it or did you earn it?"

[c0exiist]

Ezra’s sharp tone was noticed by Cynthia as she felt like she had crossed a line. To think being a hero would be a trigger not only made her curious, but piqued her interest behind the truth that he was hiding. In that moment, she had a split second to react appropriately and her choice was to come to a compromise. Her gaze softened as she simply nodded in understanding, “Alright, noted…My apologies.” she replied while looking away and opening up her wallet to pull out a couple of bills. Unfazed, she showed a level of respect knowing that he wanted no part in such conversation and so her attention diverted to the barista taking their order as Cynthia remained poised and collected, exhibiting nothing but a warmth and an uplifting attitude as she did a bit of small talk, complimenting and learning about the place. 

Her nose scrunched slightly after hearing Ezra’s order, he wasn’t over exaggerating the whole ‘black is my mood’ type vibe and she couldn’t help, but comment on that factor. “There goes your beauty sleep.” she muttered before sharing her order of a cappuccino. She paid and dumped the rest of her cash into the tip jar before grabbing her drink and following Ezra to the table he had chosen. Taking a seat, she crossed her legs and sipped in silence while listening attentively to what he had to say. The silver lining here was that he didn’t kick her out after providing half of such repayment and to her a win is a win, no matter how big or small it is. Tilting her head slightly, she kept her hands wrapped around her cup as she focused on the warm temperature to keep her grounded. It was a fair question, but there were indeed endless responses that may come with it—especially for a woman like Cynthia. "That I'm actually clumsy as fuck around mysterious strangers." she deadpanned with a shrug. "But you already know that."

A playful smile crept onto her lips before deciding on an actual response. "I think I was an event planner in my past life." Her tone was a bit dramatic and dreamy as a sigh escaped her lips. Suddenly she lifted a finger to quickly add, "And before you say that's boring...I deal with money for a living and I constantly delegate, so being on the other side of things was quite the experience. Although, I truly felt like I nailed it my employee's grand retirement party—Mr. Johnson is a hard man to please after all, but left with such a smile that I've never seen in my 4 years of working there." She paused before shaking her head and said, "However, after all that meticulous planning, I still feel like I'd rather stick to owning a ranch with horses and dogs for my retirement plan than doing all that. Less wrinkles for me.” Arching a brow, she wondered if he would reciprocate a question that crossed her mind, “So what's with the dark aura?...Were you naturally born with it or did you earn it?"

It drove him crazy how naturally she fit into his space. Most people at least pretended to keep their distance, but not her—she walked right through his walls like they didn't exist. Most people who knew what was good for them would think twice before trying to get close with a stranger. She on the other hand, didn’t care at all. She treated their run-ins like they were scripted moments of fate instead of potential disasters waiting to happen. Her take on their "first fight" cracked his stern expression, even as he remembered spending nights digging into her background after their last encounter. Her dramatic flair tugged a smile from him anyway, even though he'd spent days digging into her background after their first meeting. And now she claimed curiosity about his "mysterious stranger aura" while casually mentioning living on caffeine and cigarettes. God, he needed to get his head examined for finding that combination appealing. "Spontaneous is one word for it," he muttered, wondering when he'd lost control of this situation. Maybe he never had it to begin with. Her quip about spicing up her rotation with this place struck him as loaded with double meaning, though he couldn't pin down why. The fact that she'd bypassed your usual pretentious offerings in favor of this dive spoke volumes—though about what, he wasn't quite sure yet.

"Don't call me a hero," he said sharply, the words coming out harsher than intended as memories of Chicago threatened to surface. Not when so many had died under his watch. The faces of his dead informants flashed through his mind—Joey from the corner store, Maria who ran the flower shop, old man Chen from the laundromat. Their deaths had come like dominos, precise and unstoppable, while he'd scrambled to warn the others and failed every single time. His gut clenched at the crystal-clear image of that sterile room, where he'd confirmed identity after identity while they dismissed it all as gang violence. Forcing the darkness back down, he ordered his usual—triple shot Americano, black as his mood. They found a small table tucked away in the corner, and he settled into the chair that gave him the best view of the entrance. Old habits died hard. "You mentioned learning about yourself through new experiences," he said, steering away from dangerous territory. "What's the most interesting thing you've discovered lately?" Perhaps he should apologize for his outburst, but he wasn’t used to apologizing when it came to his trauma. Changing the subject was much safer.

[ofgrenvde]

It drove him crazy how naturally she fit into his space. Most people at least pretended to keep their distance, but not her—she walked right through his walls like they didn't exist. Most people who knew what was good for them would think twice before trying to get close with a stranger. She on the other hand, didn’t care at all. She treated their run-ins like they were scripted moments of fate instead of potential disasters waiting to happen. Her take on their "first fight" cracked his stern expression, even as he remembered spending nights digging into her background after their last encounter. Her dramatic flair tugged a smile from him anyway, even though he'd spent days digging into her background after their first meeting. And now she claimed curiosity about his "mysterious stranger aura" while casually mentioning living on caffeine and cigarettes. God, he needed to get his head examined for finding that combination appealing. "Spontaneous is one word for it," he muttered, wondering when he'd lost control of this situation. Maybe he never had it to begin with. Her quip about spicing up her rotation with this place struck him as loaded with double meaning, though he couldn't pin down why. The fact that she'd bypassed your usual pretentious offerings in favor of this dive spoke volumes—though about what, he wasn't quite sure yet.

"Don't call me a hero," he said sharply, the words coming out harsher than intended as memories of Chicago threatened to surface. Not when so many had died under his watch. The faces of his dead informants flashed through his mind—Joey from the corner store, Maria who ran the flower shop, old man Chen from the laundromat. Their deaths had come like dominos, precise and unstoppable, while he'd scrambled to warn the others and failed every single time. His gut clenched at the crystal-clear image of that sterile room, where he'd confirmed identity after identity while they dismissed it all as gang violence. Forcing the darkness back down, he ordered his usual—triple shot Americano, black as his mood. They found a small table tucked away in the corner, and he settled into the chair that gave him the best view of the entrance. Old habits died hard. "You mentioned learning about yourself through new experiences," he said, steering away from dangerous territory. "What's the most interesting thing you've discovered lately?" Perhaps he should apologize for his outburst, but he wasn’t used to apologizing when it came to his trauma. Changing the subject was much safer.

“I’m proactive and probably not like most people.” she replied with an innocent shrug. Another cliché and a bit of a push at that point since the response could be interpreted into anything, but evidently there was truth to it. Throwing out trust as if it was nothing, may be foolish on Cynthia’s part, especially since she was too comfortable for her own good. However, she was not only playing the part, but willing to take whatever accountability comes next. The way she sees it, she’s just out here thanking a stranger that she met on the street. Sure, this was Devil’s Junction and it wasn’t everyone’s safe haven, nor paradise, but this was the kind of tango that she was willing to dance to if it meant that she could have a little fun and games. Besides, the way he kept up with her intrigued her for the better and she had to commend Ezra for his efforts, let alone determination. It felt all too easy, to match his energy and be on the same wavelength. It could be their chemistry at this point or maybe two tired souls looking for some solace in all the chaos, whatever it is—it was happening in real time and the unpredictableness of this encounter is what got Cynthia going. 

“Oh please, don’t put this on me…” She paused before leaning in and playfully adding with a dramatic gasp, “Gosh, is this our first fight?” Cynthia then pulled away and waved it off as if it was nothing, “Skepticism? Not so much, I mean from what I remembered from our first encounter it was a simple expression of gratitude and then we were on our merry way…Separately of course. You didn’t seem like you wanted anything in return.” She then arched a brow and continued with, “But this time? You really are pushing that mysterious stranger aura, that it’s natural for me to gravitate towards it. Consider me curious.” Following him into the coffee shop, she was surprised by the interior and the warmth that she felt from the scent of the coffee beans. To be fair, she had never been to this hole in the wall as it was easy to miss. On top of that, she was a suspect of ‘bougie’ coffee from The Fix given its location due to its proximity from Investment Row. "I call it spontaneous, but to each their own...I love being introduced to new things, you learn more about yourself that way. Besides, I live off caffeine and cigarettes, so adding this to the roster might spice up my rotation." Pulling out her wallet, she then gestured him to place his order as she was planning on paying in the end as discussed, "Heroes first, go claim your prize."

[c0exiist]

“I’m proactive and probably not like most people.” she replied with an innocent shrug. Another cliché and a bit of a push at that point since the response could be interpreted into anything, but evidently there was truth to it. Throwing out trust as if it was nothing, may be foolish on Cynthia’s part, especially since she was too comfortable for her own good. However, she was not only playing the part, but willing to take whatever accountability comes next. The way she sees it, she’s just out here thanking a stranger that she met on the street. Sure, this was Devil’s Junction and it wasn’t everyone’s safe haven, nor paradise, but this was the kind of tango that she was willing to dance to if it meant that she could have a little fun and games. Besides, the way he kept up with her intrigued her for the better and she had to commend Ezra for his efforts, let alone determination. It felt all too easy, to match his energy and be on the same wavelength. It could be their chemistry at this point or maybe two tired souls looking for some solace in all the chaos, whatever it is—it was happening in real time and the unpredictableness of this encounter is what got Cynthia going. 

“Oh please, don’t put this on me…” She paused before leaning in and playfully adding with a dramatic gasp, “Gosh, is this our first fight?” Cynthia then pulled away and waved it off as if it was nothing, “Skepticism? Not so much, I mean from what I remembered from our first encounter it was a simple expression of gratitude and then we were on our merry way…Separately of course. You didn’t seem like you wanted anything in return.” She then arched a brow and continued with, “But this time? You really are pushing that mysterious stranger aura, that it’s natural for me to gravitate towards it. Consider me curious.” Following him into the coffee shop, she was surprised by the interior and the warmth that she felt from the scent of the coffee beans. To be fair, she had never been to this hole in the wall as it was easy to miss. On top of that, she was a suspect of ‘bougie’ coffee from The Fix given its location due to its proximity from Investment Row. "I call it spontaneous, but to each their own...I love being introduced to new things, you learn more about yourself that way. Besides, I live off caffeine and cigarettes, so adding this to the roster might spice up my rotation." Pulling out her wallet, she then gestured him to place his order as she was planning on paying in the end as discussed, "Heroes first, go claim your prize."

Ezra fought back a grin at her relentless teasing, even as his analytical mind cataloged every microexpression and tone shift. The way she played with words reminded him of a fencer—precise strikes wrapped in elegant movement. "Trust is a loaded word," he said lightly, though the words carried more meaning than he wanted to admit. His instincts had saved his life more times than he could count, yet here he was, deliberately ignoring them because something about her made him want to lower his guard, just a fraction.Fate seemed determined to mess with him, dropping this woman into his life who made him want to throw his rulebook out the window. The audience quip drew out a real laugh—one that surprised him with its authenticity. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd let himself laugh without analyzing it first. This woman made him want to drop the walls he'd built. She was like a breath of fresh air in his dreary world. The fact that she could pull reactions from him both intrigued and terrified him especially since he'd spent so long making sure every response was calculated down to the millisecond.

"You know, most people wait until at least the second cup of coffee before psychoanalyzing their coffee date," he said, surprising himself with how easily the banter flowed. The word date slipped out before he could catch it, and he wondered if she caught the implications. Everything about this situation screamed bad idea in neon letters, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Her jabs about trust and heroics should have set off warning bells, but instead, they made him want to see what other surprises she had in store. His usual defenses were failing him. Or perhaps he'd finally tired of treating every conversation like a potential threat. "And here I was thinking my dashing rescues would have earned me at least a small dose of skepticism. You're really throwing off my whole mysterious stranger routine here." Despite his neutral delivery, actual mirth laced his words. Her presence felt like a splash of color in his grayscale world—unpredictable and probably dangerous, but undeniably compelling. "Taking coffee suggestions from strangers—I can't tell if that makes you fearless or foolish. Still debating that one." He gestured toward a weathered brick storefront wedged between two larger buildings, its worn wooden sign and fogged windows making it look almost invisible to passersby. He liked this place precisely because most people walked right past it—a tiny refuge that served the strongest coffee in the city.

[ofgrenvde]

Ezra fought back a grin at her relentless teasing, even as his analytical mind cataloged every microexpression and tone shift. The way she played with words reminded him of a fencer—precise strikes wrapped in elegant movement. "Trust is a loaded word," he said lightly, though the words carried more meaning than he wanted to admit. His instincts had saved his life more times than he could count, yet here he was, deliberately ignoring them because something about her made him want to lower his guard, just a fraction.Fate seemed determined to mess with him, dropping this woman into his life who made him want to throw his rulebook out the window. The audience quip drew out a real laugh—one that surprised him with its authenticity. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd let himself laugh without analyzing it first. This woman made him want to drop the walls he'd built. She was like a breath of fresh air in his dreary world. The fact that she could pull reactions from him both intrigued and terrified him especially since he'd spent so long making sure every response was calculated down to the millisecond.

"You know, most people wait until at least the second cup of coffee before psychoanalyzing their coffee date," he said, surprising himself with how easily the banter flowed. The word date slipped out before he could catch it, and he wondered if she caught the implications. Everything about this situation screamed bad idea in neon letters, yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Her jabs about trust and heroics should have set off warning bells, but instead, they made him want to see what other surprises she had in store. His usual defenses were failing him. Or perhaps he'd finally tired of treating every conversation like a potential threat. "And here I was thinking my dashing rescues would have earned me at least a small dose of skepticism. You're really throwing off my whole mysterious stranger routine here." Despite his neutral delivery, actual mirth laced his words. Her presence felt like a splash of color in his grayscale world—unpredictable and probably dangerous, but undeniably compelling. "Taking coffee suggestions from strangers—I can't tell if that makes you fearless or foolish. Still debating that one." He gestured toward a weathered brick storefront wedged between two larger buildings, its worn wooden sign and fogged windows making it look almost invisible to passersby. He liked this place precisely because most people walked right past it—a tiny refuge that served the strongest coffee in the city.

It was amusing to see how they were both able to keep up with each other. As cliché as this was, he wasn’t like the other men she’d encounter who were either always too needy or too egotistical to the point where they think they’re being gentlemen-like, but in actuality they were mansplaining to a tee. Instead, she could feel a challenge. He had to be holding back right? At that point, two can play that game. “A point.” she repeated with a hint of curiosity. “Interesting…Creative indeed and never thought of it that way. Although, I do believe everything happens for a reason.” Her dark hues held amusement and intrigue while she met his gaze, trying to read into him as they made their trek together. She wondered what was the reason behind their encounters as this was no coincidence. Normally one would feel paranoia, but she chose to adapt and have fun with it. Good thing she had no meetings lined up for today and hopefully Zelie could hold off on her updates.

“Awww, that’s so sweet.” she cooed out. “You know how to capture a girl’s interest, at this point I need to make it to the third date to see what it’s all about.” Once her ‘hero’ introduced himself as Ezra, Cynthia couldn’t help, but laugh at his antics and teasingly said, “You know if you wanted my number you could have just said so, Ezra. Nevertheless, it's nice to put a face to the name of who's been saving me from public embarrassment and face planting.” Now she was pushing it with the playful banter and connecting on a personal basis, but would it really go that far? She knew better than that, but that all went out the window. She was focusing on the present and remaining attentive while having fun in her own right. Besides, it’s not like this was interfering with her work…for now. She had seen Ezra around the casinos, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint who he worked for, nor what he did.

Glancing up ahead, she could see the pathway that she needed to take to the recommended coffee shop and immediately smirked after hearing the mention of witnesses and security cameras. “So you’re into having an audience, hm?” She kept up the playful banter, but found his initial response interesting. Did he deal with security? Was he a cop? There were endless questions that ran her mind, but she knew she needed to let time run its course. "If it's any consolation, I already trust you, you know? You've been reassuring me that we will be getting coffee and maybe even a third date this whole time. Should I doubt you at this point, hero?"

[c0exiist]

It was amusing to see how they were both able to keep up with each other. As cliché as this was, he wasn’t like the other men she’d encounter who were either always too needy or too egotistical to the point where they think they’re being gentlemen-like, but in actuality they were mansplaining to a tee. Instead, she could feel a challenge. He had to be holding back right? At that point, two can play that game. “A point.” she repeated with a hint of curiosity. “Interesting…Creative indeed and never thought of it that way. Although, I do believe everything happens for a reason.” Her dark hues held amusement and intrigue while she met his gaze, trying to read into him as they made their trek together. She wondered what was the reason behind their encounters as this was no coincidence. Normally one would feel paranoia, but she chose to adapt and have fun with it. Good thing she had no meetings lined up for today and hopefully Zelie could hold off on her updates.

“Awww, that’s so sweet.” she cooed out. “You know how to capture a girl’s interest, at this point I need to make it to the third date to see what it’s all about.” Once her ‘hero’ introduced himself as Ezra, Cynthia couldn’t help, but laugh at his antics and teasingly said, “You know if you wanted my number you could have just said so, Ezra. Nevertheless, it's nice to put a face to the name of who's been saving me from public embarrassment and face planting.” Now she was pushing it with the playful banter and connecting on a personal basis, but would it really go that far? She knew better than that, but that all went out the window. She was focusing on the present and remaining attentive while having fun in her own right. Besides, it’s not like this was interfering with her work…for now. She had seen Ezra around the casinos, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint who he worked for, nor what he did.

Glancing up ahead, she could see the pathway that she needed to take to the recommended coffee shop and immediately smirked after hearing the mention of witnesses and security cameras. “So you’re into having an audience, hm?” She kept up the playful banter, but found his initial response interesting. Did he deal with security? Was he a cop? There were endless questions that ran her mind, but she knew she needed to let time run its course. "If it's any consolation, I already trust you, you know? You've been reassuring me that we will be getting coffee and maybe even a third date this whole time. Should I doubt you at this point, hero?"

Against his better judgment—and boy, did he have a lot of judgment—Ezra felt his lips quirking up at her antics. She had trouble written all over her, which somehow made him want to step closer instead of maintaining his usual ten-mile safety buffer. Her quip about exhausting their options sparked something reckless in him, a desire to see where this road might lead despite knowing better. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to walk away, to stick to his isolation, but there was something about her that made him want to break his own rules. "The universe tends to be persistent when it wants to make a point," he said, allowing himself a small smile. "I’ll admit, its methods are getting increasingly creative." Her question about back alleys pulled a humorless chuckle from him—if she only knew how many actual back alley deals he'd witnessed over the years. But this wasn't about work, was it? For once, he wanted to pretend he was just a guy getting coffee with an intriguing woman, not someone who spent his nights watching for threats through security feeds. 

"Back alleys are reserved for the third date at least," he deadpanned, wondering when he'd gotten so comfortable with teasing her. "And I'm Ezra. But given our track record, maybe we should exchange insurance information instead of names." The banter felt good—dangerous, but good. Like playing with fire while wearing a gasoline-soaked suit. Professional distance was Ezra's middle name—well, technically it was Miguel, but whatever. The point was, he never let anyone get close. So why did he suddenly want to toss his rulebook out the nearest window? It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to simply enjoy someone's company without analyzing their every move for potential threats. Of course, that didn't mean he'd stopped keeping exits in view, or racked movement in his periphery. "The coffee shop's just around the corner," he said, gesturing ahead. "I promise it's a legitimate establishment with multiple witnesses and security cameras." The words came out before he could stop them, and he internally winced at letting his professional paranoia slip into what was supposed to be casual conversation. But maybe that was part of who he was now—someone who couldn't fully separate himself from his instincts, even when he wanted to.

[ofgrenvde]

Against his better judgment—and boy, did he have a lot of judgment—Ezra felt his lips quirking up at her antics. She had trouble written all over her, which somehow made him want to step closer instead of maintaining his usual ten-mile safety buffer. Her quip about exhausting their options sparked something reckless in him, a desire to see where this road might lead despite knowing better. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to walk away, to stick to his isolation, but there was something about her that made him want to break his own rules. "The universe tends to be persistent when it wants to make a point," he said, allowing himself a small smile. "I’ll admit, its methods are getting increasingly creative." Her question about back alleys pulled a humorless chuckle from him—if she only knew how many actual back alley deals he'd witnessed over the years. But this wasn't about work, was it? For once, he wanted to pretend he was just a guy getting coffee with an intriguing woman, not someone who spent his nights watching for threats through security feeds. 

"Back alleys are reserved for the third date at least," he deadpanned, wondering when he'd gotten so comfortable with teasing her. "And I'm Ezra. But given our track record, maybe we should exchange insurance information instead of names." The banter felt good—dangerous, but good. Like playing with fire while wearing a gasoline-soaked suit. Professional distance was Ezra's middle name—well, technically it was Miguel, but whatever. The point was, he never let anyone get close. So why did he suddenly want to toss his rulebook out the nearest window? It had been so long since he'd allowed himself to simply enjoy someone's company without analyzing their every move for potential threats. Of course, that didn't mean he'd stopped keeping exits in view, or racked movement in his periphery. "The coffee shop's just around the corner," he said, gesturing ahead. "I promise it's a legitimate establishment with multiple witnesses and security cameras." The words came out before he could stop them, and he internally winced at letting his professional paranoia slip into what was supposed to be casual conversation. But maybe that was part of who he was now—someone who couldn't fully separate himself from his instincts, even when he wanted to.

Cynthia knew better than to entertain all this. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse, especially when tensions were high around the junction. However, she could argue that this was all a part of work life balance and that she wanted her fair share of fun. A slight pout crept onto her lips after hearing that he’d been keeping score this whole time and so she cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear before responding with, “Well the universe can stop entertaining us at this point. I am willing to admit, I haven’t had a good track record around you…” She paused and then muttered, “For some odd reason.” However, that didn’t bother her one bit as she brought back the pep in her step and amusingly added, “But, if this is their way of forcing us to interact then might as well give them what they want and exhaust all options—perhaps that would put an end to whatever this is.” Did she want this to end? That was a question that she surprisingly had no answer to and tabled it for the meantime.

Once the other decided on their incentive, Cynthia nodded before letting out a soft chuckle at his response. “You have good taste.” she mused before gesturing a hand for him to lead the way. “Now I’m intrigued...You sure you're not taking me to a back alley?" she teased with an arched brow. "I'm Cynthia by the way...And you are?"

[c0exiist]

Cynthia knew better than to entertain all this. It was a dangerous game of cat and mouse, especially when tensions were high around the junction. However, she could argue that this was all a part of work life balance and that she wanted her fair share of fun. A slight pout crept onto her lips after hearing that he’d been keeping score this whole time and so she cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her ear before responding with, “Well the universe can stop entertaining us at this point. I am willing to admit, I haven’t had a good track record around you…” She paused and then muttered, “For some odd reason.” However, that didn’t bother her one bit as she brought back the pep in her step and amusingly added, “But, if this is their way of forcing us to interact then might as well give them what they want and exhaust all options—perhaps that would put an end to whatever this is.” Did she want this to end? That was a question that she surprisingly had no answer to and tabled it for the meantime.

Once the other decided on their incentive, Cynthia nodded before letting out a soft chuckle at his response. “You have good taste.” she mused before gesturing a hand for him to lead the way. “Now I’m intrigued...You sure you're not taking me to a back alley?" she teased with an arched brow. "I'm Cynthia by the way...And you are?"

Ezra watched her with measured disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite his better judgment. This woman radiated danger packaged in charm, and yet here he stood, entertaining her banter. The last time he'd let his guard down around someone this intriguing, it had ended with three cracked ribs and a stolen watch. But damn if her smile didn't make him want to ignore every warning bell clanging in his head. "If we're keeping score, I've prevented two potential concrete encounters with your face. Seems like the universe has a twisted sense of humor." A dark thought crossed his mind—how many others had she disarmed with that same charm before they discovered the steel beneath it? Every protective instinct screamed at him to walk away. This woman was the human equivalent of a beautifully wrapped package marked "DANGER."

He'd seen that exact combination of grace and watchfulness before, and it never ended well for the poor bastards who fell for it. The really worrying part wasn't just how good she was at this game—it was how much he wanted to keep playing it despite knowing better. He'd seen that mix of grace and calculated watchfulness before, back in his Chicago days. It spoke of someone who'd learned to turn survival into an art form. "Coffee," he decided, knowing full well he should walk away instead. "But you should know I take it black—like my sense of humor and general outlook on life." The words came out drier than desert sand. He was actually flirting with someone who probably had an extensive repertoire of creative ways to end him. Maybe he needed this coffee as badly as he claimed, his survival instincts seemed to be taking an unauthorized vacation. "I know a place that serves coffee strong enough to wake the dead. Seems fitting, given our track record of near-death experiences." God, he was getting soft. Or maybe just tired of viewing everyone through crosshairs.

[ofgrenvde]

Ezra watched her with measured disbelief, though a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth despite his better judgment. This woman radiated danger packaged in charm, and yet here he stood, entertaining her banter. The last time he'd let his guard down around someone this intriguing, it had ended with three cracked ribs and a stolen watch. But damn if her smile didn't make him want to ignore every warning bell clanging in his head. "If we're keeping score, I've prevented two potential concrete encounters with your face. Seems like the universe has a twisted sense of humor." A dark thought crossed his mind—how many others had she disarmed with that same charm before they discovered the steel beneath it? Every protective instinct screamed at him to walk away. This woman was the human equivalent of a beautifully wrapped package marked "DANGER."

He'd seen that exact combination of grace and watchfulness before, and it never ended well for the poor bastards who fell for it. The really worrying part wasn't just how good she was at this game—it was how much he wanted to keep playing it despite knowing better. He'd seen that mix of grace and calculated watchfulness before, back in his Chicago days. It spoke of someone who'd learned to turn survival into an art form. "Coffee," he decided, knowing full well he should walk away instead. "But you should know I take it black—like my sense of humor and general outlook on life." The words came out drier than desert sand. He was actually flirting with someone who probably had an extensive repertoire of creative ways to end him. Maybe he needed this coffee as badly as he claimed, his survival instincts seemed to be taking an unauthorized vacation. "I know a place that serves coffee strong enough to wake the dead. Seems fitting, given our track record of near-death experiences." God, he was getting soft. Or maybe just tired of viewing everyone through crosshairs.

Cynthia Zhang hated a couple of things, but the ones that were prominent right now was a) being unnecessarily clumsy as fuck in front of a man and b) being indebted to him. If anything, she calls that a double homicide in her books, if not quadruple given that she was having déjà vu of their previous encounter. Oddly enough, she wondered what kind of sorcery or unplanned fate this was as she was certainly confused why it had to be him out of all people that she’d be bumping into. Still poised and playing it off as if it wasn’t a big deal, Cynthia’s face lit up as she flashed him a gracious smile and replied with, “Aww, my hero.” 

Taking a step back, she regained her composure and dusted herself off as she immediately thanked him despite feeling that she was being studied at this moment, along with the further questions. The last thing she wanted to do was raise suspicion, but in her honest opinion it was probably too late for that now given this incident took place more than once. However, she wasn't going to back down and so she added, “Again, thank you for…Keeping me on my feet. I get it, it’s probably annoying and all that, but on the bright side if you really think about it—at least it’s not some weirdo or dirty person ruining your little get up here.”

Tilting her head slightly, she couldn't help but roll her eyes before expressing an amused grin, "You wish." she retorted back before crossing her arms and sighing in defeat. "But to be fair I was wondering who you were as I did want to properly thank you. Perhaps, this was fate's way of bringing us together and finishing off an unfinished debt. So what's your poison? Caffeine? Alcohol? Cologne? It's the least I could do now that you've saved me from face planting twice...I refuse to go a third."