#oc: candice “candy” donovan

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Jessica Chastain for Beymen's Fall-Winter 2024/25

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Jessica Chastain for Beymen’s Fall-Winter 2024/25

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Jessica Chastain for Vogue | ❀

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WIP(s) as Moodboard Tag | Tagged by @raresvtm and @rhettsabbott

rules: show a moodboard and an important phrase or dialogue from the current fic you are writing!

WIP: In Hope Of Tomorrow:

An all-too-familiar melody emerged in a low whistle as Eloise moved through the forest, a part of her hoping it would coax the Sinner out of hiding before the Judges would inevitably track him down and cost her her first real opportunity to get back into Jacob's good graces. "I'm done babysitting at St. Francis during the goddamn Reaping.", the word was almost a curse on its own when her eyes finally landed on a figure wobbling away with whatever strength he had left within him after days in captivity. "Come on, little birdie, it's time I get you back into your cage." Her breathing remained slow, even, as she pulled the bow taut and focused on the target. Eloise could have simply aimed directly at the Sinner, taken the clear shot, instead the arrow flew by his cheek, burying its tip into the tree next to him and announcing her presence. What's a manhunt without a hunt? She knew the objective was to get him back in one piece, and quickly, but that didn't stop her smile when he twisted his head around and his eyes met hers as she drew another arrow in a challenge. Fight or flight? I would enjoy either.

WIP: A Trial Of Errors:

Whatever hope Sabrina harbored about her mother cutting her surprise visit short evaporated the second the bathroom door closed much too loudly behind John, who had chosen the worst moment to get up and take her up on the offer of an uneventful shower. Candice raised an eyebrow before giving her a knowing smile, "I see you have company, darling."

Tagging, @strangefable @strafethesesinners @direwombat @finding-comfort-in-rain @jackiesarch

@simonxriley @cassietrn @socially-awkward-skeleton @voidika @imogenkol

@aceghosts @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @carlosoliveiraa @trench-rot

@tommyarashikage @icecutioner @purplehairsecretlair @wrathfulrook @la-grosse-patate

@theelderhazelnut @shellibisshe @killyourrdarlingss @dumbassdep @g0dspeeed

@gearvmac @cloudofbutterflies92 @justasmolbard @simplegenius042 @thesingularityseries

@kyberinfinitygems @derelictheretic @harmonyowl and anyone that would like to do the tag 🤍

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Character Moodboard | Candice "Candy" Donovan (FC5 OC) | WIP: A Trial of Errors

"I know he is the reason you turned down Spencer, Sabrina." "No, I turned down Mr. Hedge-Fund-Heir because I saw through your plan for both of us and wanted no part of it once it blew up in your face." Candice waved her off, "I closed the deal, by the way. Quite well, if I may say so myself." "I'd rather not be updated on your dealings, mother. Plausible deniability and all that." Her gaze narrowed at the words, "What I do is perfectly legal, you know that, darling."

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WIP Whenever (since I'm a few hours late for Wednesday) | Tagged by @simonxriley @socially-awkward-skeleton @corvosattano @direwombat @the-silver-chronicles @marivenah @shellibisshe

We're returning to John and Sabrina's AU this midweek and jumping into quite the scene with no other but Candice after John runs into her at his their hotel lobby. Miss Donovan absolutely insisted on this being from her POV, she can't be refused.

"Reginald, we will be making a stop on the way. Where are you headed, Mr. Duncan?" Candice couldn't help but smirk at the obvious discomfort the man next to her was exhibiting upon climbing in after her and putting as much distance between them as humanly possible. The fact he wasn't quick to give out an address to her driver only further confirmed he might be having seconds thoughts about accepting her offer. A little too late. This is bound to be fun. Her plan was back in motion from the moment she had spotted him in the lobby, refusing to let such a perfect opportunity pass by despite the fact she had prior engagements that demanded her attention. Keeping taps on Mooney's defense strategy had become a personal hobby, making his life in prison while he awaited the inevitable even more so. You're about to regret the day you crossed a Donovan, Nathaniel. Deeply. She doubted getting information out of someone like John Duncan and perhaps even steering him in the direction she wanted would be that much of a challenge, quite the opposite: she could already foresee each step she needed to take to a point she felt somewhat… bored. Nostalgic over a past long gone. Over the only person that used to have her heart racing and knew her better than she knew herself.

Yet she had no time to dwell on any of it, not when her current target had finally figured out that with the car speeding down the street he had no choice but to reveal the destination he was in such a rush to get to. I will be damned. "…Brentwood St.", John finished casually reciting the address, seeming completely unaware of how with a couple of words he had given her enough ammo to not only have his freshly-acquired title as Partner stripped away but have him potentially disbarred altogether. Luckily enough, she had other uses for him before things would get to the stage where he'd be contemplating a new career path. The triumph at the idea Mooney's new attorney was making far from an innocent late night visit to a person that without shadow of a doubt be on the witness list and important to the prosecution was short-lived. Curiosity swooped in its place upon realizing her own daughter was on the receiving end of whatever risqué plans John had in mind and the sole reason he was breaking a golden rule. Reginald's gaze met hers in the rearview mirror and she could tell he had come to the same conclusion about the stop they would be making, same place he'd driven her to one too many times. Her quick nod had him raising the privacy screen without uttering a word before she shifted until her body was aligned with the man next to her and she crossed her legs, not missing the way his eyes darted down to the sliver of skin her dress offered, "I heard your client got in quite the trouble at his new home, darling."

"I'm not at liberty-" "To discuss it?", she let out a laugh, "All work and no play isn't that much fun, Mr. Duncan. You eventually come to realize that." She didn't let the fact her remark was met by silence from his side discourage her- his instincts might have been screaming he was walking into a minefield, but dropping down his guard was inevitable. "Are you worried how it might look at the trial? So unfortunate of him to keep misbehaving like that while still insisting on his innocence and facing the danger of rotting in a cell for the rest of his life." Her smile was sickly-sweet as she let her expression brim with compassion for the task bestowed upon him, yet deep down all the misteps Mooney had made during his incarceration- the fork incident being one of many the prosecutors could pick from, brough her utmost joy. "I see no love has been lost here.", John retorted, attempting to sound nonchalant in hope she'd reveal her cards before he had to address his client. All she offered him was another loaded look as she swooped her hair off her shoulder and changed the subject, "How's the hotel been treating you, Mr. Duncan? Or better yet, Portland?" "I've had less eventful work trips." "Ah, way to make me curious. Is this your first time in town?" "Yes.", he paused, "Is this where you offer to show me the sights?" She quirked up an eyebrow, "Are you asking?" His blue gaze narrowed at her flirtatious tone, "Answering my question with a question. Shouldn't have expected anything else."

"Indeed, darling. And what about 310?" "Excuse me?" The confusion that met the number won another hearty laugh out of her, "Room 310 has been giving you trouble, as Julie put it. I couldn't help but overhear." "Giving me trouble? I'm afraid you misheard her, Ms. Donovan. She said 510." Her marriage to a detective and years spent in court dealing with both the guilty and innocent had taught her to read people to a point it had become an instinct. Everyone had a tell when lying, their body language always offered more than their careful answers, and she had been observing his since their first 'accidental' meeting. No matter how small his tells were, she didn't miss the way his lips pursed as he parroted back her question, how his eyes darted before focusing on hers once more- John was doing his hardest to deceive her again, convince her she had heard wrong instead of caught him in a lie. "Is that so?", she cocked her head to the side, "Shame, would have meant we're neighbors." They were in fact neighbors- one call to the front desk was all it had taken to figure out his room number and confirm the hunch she had about him avoiding her while also providing an insight into the source of the frustrated noises and curses carrying over in the middle of the night from the room next to hers.

She leaned in closer, close enough she could whisper in his ear as her hand landed on his knee, "510 sounds a lot like my 309 neighbor… keeping me up at late hours and not in the way I like it." His bated breath urged her hand to travel upward, her test put in motion while actual seduction was nowhere on her agenda for the evening, yet the fact he was headed to see Sabrina left her with no choice. She had to know, to figure out what mess her daughter had found herself in, if she was wasting time on someone whose loyalty was as fleeting as his code of conduct. "Next time you find yourself unable to sleep…", her words drifted off just as she made it to his zipper. ...You won't be visiting my Sabrina, that's for certain. It was then that his fingers snaked around her wrist to stop her advance, "I'm not interested." "Hmm? No?", she let the question hang in the air between them, giving him a chance to change his mind and prove her right, "An honorable man, Mr. Duncan. Nothing I respect more." Candice backed away with that, resuming her previous position like nothing had happened, smirking at the small sigh of relief that escaped him. Her hand rose and gently knocked on the glass separating them from her driver, "Reginald, how far are we from Mr. Duncan's destination?" The emphasis she put on the last part flew over John's head as he matched her small smile that didn't stay on his face long, "Not too far, Miss, but traffic is moving slower than usual, seems there was an accident of sort. Could be a while longer." Her smirk only widened when he whispered under his breath, "My fucking luck." Your unlucky night is quite lucky for me, Mr. Duncan. What a better way to find out more about the person trying to charm my eldest daughter and no doubt use her to free a guilty man...

Tagging, @strangefable @florbelles @unholymilf @purplehairsecretlair @aceghosts @onehornedbeast @thesingularityseries @cassietrn @theelderhazelnut @voidika @nightbloodbix @macs-babies @finding-comfort-in-rain @carlosoliveiraa @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @vampireninjabunnies-blog @trench-rot @la-grosse-patate @wrathfulrook @fourlittleseedlings @jackiesarch and anyone with something to share this week <3

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WIP Wednesday | Tagged by @thesingularityseries ❤️

I'm checking in with another snippet from Chapter 2 of John and Sabrina's AU where he goes (or more like tries) to visit his client in prison while she is doing her best to minimize their encounter. Leslie ain't buying it. ❤️

John stared at the endless field in front of him, checking his watch on instinct for probably the millionth time as his driver let out a string of hushed curses while he changed the flat tire the car got somewhere on Interstate 5. An irrational part of him felt like vaulting over the fence that separated the highway from the surrounding land and simply… walking off. Wondered how it would feel to be in the middle of nowhere, in a place where nobody would be around to hear the angry outburst he fought to keep under control. After messing up and texting Sabrina by mistake, he had eventually gotten dressed, dragged himself down to the lobby to report the broken shower in his room and ask for them to arrange a car for him. The man at the reception desk had been less welcoming and helpful than the woman that had checked him in, telling him that he would send someone over to fix the issue without being able to give him an answer as to when. On top of that headache, he had spent the next 30 minutes waiting for his driver to show up in front of the hotel, the delay making him wish he had his own car there so he wasn't at the mercy of others. Thanks to that now even after leaving early to make sure he would have enough time to travel to the State Penitentiary, he was tethering on the edge of being late, stuck halfway across his destination.

"Almost done, sir.", the younger man announced behind him, "We'd be back on the road in a jiffy." A couple of minutes later he finally walked around the car, still dusting off his pants from kneeling down on the ground and signaled for John they were ready to leave. "So…", the man started in an attempt to break the ice as he climbed in the backseat and pointed his gaze out of the window again, "Who are you visiting in OSP?" "I'm not at liberty to talk about that.", John retorted quickly and pulled out his phone, hoping he would appear busy so the man would give up on the small talk. It was for that same reason he hadn't made an effort to even ask about his name. He had no doubt if he was to say he was representing Nathaniel Mooney that the driver would be tempted to abandon him on the side of the road after calling him any awful word available in his dictionary. He avoided the man's curious stare in the rearview mirror, keeping his eyes glued to his phone screen as he opened Sabrina's last message. Don't text her anything else. Don't. It's just going to make everything worse. But his fingers had other ideas, already typing up a text.

John: I'm sorry about earlier.

Minutes passed where the driver whistled along to "Only You" as it played on the radio, and where no answer came through from Sabrina. She's at work, probably busy. Do I even care if she's taken the text meant for Penny the wrong way? I don't. Yes, I don't. Yet the giddiness he felt when his phone finally chirped with a message told him otherwise.

Sabrina: How's your day? Any more criminals posing as drivers?

John: No, but I am meeting with an alleged criminal in a couple of minutes. So, pray, I don't get stabbed.

Sabrina: Now you have me worried… just keep an eye on him and make sure any sharp objects are out of his reach.

John: You're saying I can't show him my collection of knives?

Sabrina: Essentially. And let me know you've made it out alive, I guess.

A smile broke free at her replies and the fact she seemed unbothered by what had happened. They gave him hope he still had a chance. A chance for what? "We're here, sir.", the driver said, making him realize the rest of his drive had passed in a haze, all thanks to her, "Welcome to Salem." John looked his watch, "And on time, thank you." "Of course. I will be waiting to drive you back to Portland." He exited the car after giving him a nod, leaving him to wait in the parking lot as he headed for the entrance of the penitentiary, its pale yellow facade standing out against stark blue of the cloudless sky. John gingerly climbed the U-shaped staircase, promising himself with each step that he would succeed what the other attorneys before him had failed at. He squared his shoulders and pushed past double doors that led inside, his measured footsteps drawing the attention of some of the visitors that were waiting in line for the metal detectors. As one person after another passed through, he shut down the urge to shift in place or worry about the state of his suit. Not how I imagined this would go, exactly. As the detectors kept going off and hindering his progress forward, he reassured himself over and over again that he'd make it in time for the meeting.

"Next.", a male deputy directing the visitors in his line gestured for him to step forward. His briefcase made it on the conveyor belt first, passing through the scanner as he covered the rest of the distance to the walk through metal detector. One step, followed by anothed. Silence. He had almost made it on the other side, or at least his shoe had before the alarm sounded. "I need you to walk back and through the detector again, please.", the officer instructed, and he complied, going through slowly only for the blaring noise to repeat again. "One more time. Slowly.", the man gestured patiently while he let out a tired sigh as he turned on his heel and attempted the walk for the third time. For fuck's sake. He had nothing on him that could potentially set off the detector. "Step forward.", the deputy beckoned, "I need to pat you down. You have the right to refuse-" "I'm a lawyer, I know my rights.", John interjected quickly, then added in a calmer tone, "You have my permission." Refusing a pat down meant he'd be turned down from his visit. The man nodded, "Arms out. Feet apart." He followed the instructions, having been through a couple of in-person meetings with other clients in prison already. The frisk felt like it had lasted an eternity until the deputy finally declared he could gather his things and proceed to the waiting area where other visitors had already taken a seat after checking in about their appointments.

"Next in line.", an older female officer called out for him eventually once he took his place in that line. "Name of AICs?" "Good morning, I have a scheduled meeting with Nathaniel Mooney.", the anticipated look of displeasure appeared in her eyes before his usual charm even had a chance to kick in. "Another one. How long are you gonna last?", she mumbled under her breath as she typed away on the computer in front of her, the remark loud enough only for him to hear. He didn't let the words strip away at the slight smile he had offered her initially, the push-back and borderline loathing were expected with the task of representing defendants like Mooney. Instead of simply gesturing him to take a seat and wait for his name to be called, the deputy sent him a strange look before picking up the phone receiver. "Yes. Mooney. Okay. I will tell him to take a seat." "Is everything in order, Officer Gale?", John asked carefully the second she hung up. A bored look was all he got as response before she slid a visitor badge over to him, then muttered, "Yes. Please take a seat. Next."

John clutched his bag and headed for a vacant seat next to a well-dressed redhead, checking his watch as he sat down and slipped the plastic encased pass over his head. Almost time. A slender, manicured hand appeared from his left, "Can't say I was expecting I would be meeting the man representing Nathaniel Mooney today." He turned, meeting the green gaze of the woman next to him before he grabbed her hand for a handshake. "John Duncan.", the introduction was made in the usual tone reserved for other attorneys and potential clients. Everything about the redhead, including her smile, appeared calculating when she squeezed his hand, and he couldn't help but wonder if she had her sights set on his case and testing the waters, "Candice Donovan." The name gave him a pause, immediately making him think of Sabrina, then he shook off the thought, reminding himself he had to stay focused. It's just a surname. His hand returned to his knee as he leaned back in his chair and trained his eyes forward, feeling her gaze remaining on him still. "Rumor is, the last one ran out of here crying. Poor girl. Not everyone is built for our field of work.", the woman whispered, "Though, I've never had a particular taste for criminal law. So messy… bloody even.", the last part felt loaded, heavy, yet she casually recrossed her legs before letting out a quiet laugh and passing him a business card. Blue eyes darted to the matching badge nestled against her champagne colored silk blouse with a perfectly tied bow close to her neckline, "And yet here you are." "Oh, no, Mr. Duncan,", her voice lowered like she was letting him in on a little secret, "I'm meeting the man on top of this food chain, not one of his subjects."

"Donovan.", an officer called out her name. "And that's my cue. Good luck, darling.", she got up, smoothing down her black skirt before she picked up her bag Hermès bag off the ground next to her chair. Her nude high heels clicked away as she approached the man waiting to escort her, swooping into charming him next. He granted a final look at the business card and slipped it inside his bag. Over the years, he had met enough women like Candice Donovan, had even been blindsided by their charisma and skilled tongues, had made the mistake of getting involved with a couple on a personal level when he was first starting in the field. The type that would frown at "the bloodiness" of law, yet be secretly the first to sense the blood in the water and strike. John spent the next couple of minutes watching the room as visitor's after visitor's name were called, new people taking their vacated seats, Officer Gale warning walk-ins they might be in for a longer wait that day. "Duncan.", a gruff voice broke through the low chatter around him, and he was out of his seat in an instant, straightening his visitor badge on his way to the deputy. The man, wearing a tag that read 'A. Flynn", towered a good few inches over him and gave him a dark stare before muttering, "Follow me."

A black steel bar door buzzed behind him and they were off down a series of white hallways, separated by similar security entryways that got him deeper into the prison. Eventually, the man in front of him came to a stop and gestured to a dark gray door before he swung it open to reveal a small private room, reserved for visits by legal teams, "Take a seat." With that, Officer Flynn left him to get situated and shut the door behind him. John slipped into pulling out all the documents he would need and arranged them in neat piles on the only table in the room. 10 minutes passed, bringing him officially past the reserved time for the meeting with Mooney. The only noise, that would put lesser attorneys on edge as they sat in the tiny sterile space without any windows, was the sound of his watch ticking. Another 15 minutes went by where he started to wonder if something had gone wrong. He set for rearranging the files again, inevitably checking his phone for any messages or calls. Nothing. Rereading Sabrina's last text. A couple of calming breaths. Regretting he had skipped breakfast. No Mooney in sight. 10 more minutes, a terrible sign considering nobody from the personnel had bothered to show their face yet. Something's wrong, indeed.

John rose up, ready to knock on the door and demand an explanation for the delay, when it opened and the same officer that had led him there appeared in the doorway, his large almost frame blocking his view of another man in an uniform. "Counsel, I regret to inform you, the arranged meeting won't be taking place today.", his lips twisted into a dark smirk, no actual regret visible across his features, "Nathaniel Mooney is undisposed." "What is that supposed to mean?", John asked, his eyes narrowing at the man's tone. "I'm meant to escort you out, sir.", the last word was said with complete disdain as Officer Flynn stepped aside and gestured for him to exit the room promptly, "You can schedule a new visit." "You cannot just cancel my client's meeting without any notice." The man crossed his arms over his chest, "Tell that to Mooney, who decided it's a good time to stab an inmate with a fork right before his meeting with his new attorney." "I still think it's inappropriate and violating his rights to deprive him from a consultation with his legal counsel. This is not a family visit you can just deny." "If you have any complaints, you can direct them at Major Sinclair. He's the one that issued the order. All inmates are threated equal here and sanctioned accordingly for not following the rules, Mr. Duncan." "That's-" Just my luck. "Unfortunate for you? Or Mooney?", his tone was bordering on leering as John began to gather his things, "I'm sure the man he put in infirmary, whose eye was almost gouged out thinks the same about himself."

He could only imagine how that would be used by the prosecution at the actual trial, just another testament of his client's violent nature and urges he couldn't control. John straightened his back and picked up his bag, passing by the two officers as he exited the room, and he could tell they were enjoying every second of sending him away without even meeting Mooney. "When exactly did the incident occur?", John inquired while he got sandwiched between the two men on the way back. "If you have any questions, you can set a meeting with Major Sinclair and discuss those.", the younger officer ahead of him, whose name he hadn't had time to observe, grumbled out. It wouldn't have been any surprise if the words were paired with another sly grin. "It was a simple question. You could have called me in advance. Saved me the trip from Portland." "It was a genuine mix-up, sir." "Or karma. Serves you right for representing that bastard.", Flynn mumbled under his breath simultaneously, clearly wanting for John to hear. Hazing. Of course. On the inside, he could feel anger gripping at his chest, looking for an outlet, but he refused to let it out or any of the well-deserved words he wanted to direct their way to be vocalized. He suspected the fork incident had taken place long before that early morning and in reality they must have had time to alert him about the "punishment" bestowed upon his client. Yet nothing of sorts had happened because he in turn was being "punished", too. For doing his job. For accepting the "shitstorm" case. For refusing to cower under their scrutiny and holding his head high. It was bound for this occurance to be just the first one of many. There was a reason, as Candice Donovan reported, that the previous woman representing Mooney had ran out crying, and if past cases were anything to go by, he was willing to bet Nathaniel's nature was only part of the issue. But if people like Officer Flynn or Major Sinclair expected obvious cheap tricks like those would make him withdraw, they were all in for a rude awakening.

John kept his face relaxed as he waited in line yet again, this time to schedule another appointment. His fingers drummed against the surface of the booth in front of him while the woman across typed in his information. "First appointment I can give you is on Monday.", she announced matter-of-factly as his fingers formed a fist. How much he wanted to bang against the glass pane that separated them. To demand to see Mooney right then and there. He did none of that, instead he forced a smile, letting his charm do the work. "M'am, I really need to meet with my client before that. My return flight is in two days." Where the receptionist from the previous night or Penny would have melted at his gentle but still firm tone that reeked of authority, the officer just blinked slowly and said, "There's a 72-hours rule in place, meaning Monday as earliest." "Officer Reece-" "First appointment I can offer you is on Monday, Mr. Duncan.", she repeated before he could even finish his sentence, "Usually you can always come as a walk-in and wait for a slot to open up if there's a cancellation or a no-show, but Nathaniel Mooney has had his visitation rights revoked for 72-hours." "That's ridiculous." "It's the minimum, sir.", Officer Reece explained calmly, "Are you taking the Monday appointment? If not, I'd have to ask to step away while you're considering your options, because there are other people in line behind you." Fuck. He wanted to scream the word out, lose it like he had that morning in the shower. "Yes, Monday it is, then.", he nodded, grateful for his unwavering facade as he took a deep breath. "I'm penciling you in for the afternoon session, 12:15 pm." "Thank you." "Have a great weekend. Next, please.", the woman called in response. Great? The little "mix-up" was going to result him in having to explain to Clive how Mooney had attacked another inmate. To change his flight back to Atlanta, his personal "punishment" Flynn called karma resulting in him having to spend more time in a city that's been nothing but brutal to him from his arrival. Hope his "5 star" hotel had fixed the shower while he was away in Salem and would agree to extend his reservation so he won't have to hunt down for another one. Sure my weekend would be great.

"How is it going?", Leslie muttered as he leaned over Sabrina's shoulder, his attention setting on the footage she had pulled up. She propped up her head on her open palm, "Nothing yet, good news is, though, I'm halfway there." "Chances are even if the camera captured the car, it'd be too dark to make anything out." A sigh broke free when she found her coffee cup empty, "I know. But it's not like we have anything else to go off until we get back the enhanced clip from across the road." "Still, the gas station was a good hunch." It wasn't a "hunch", rather a vision that had led her there, but explaining that in any way that wouldn't make her seem like she had lost her mind, felt impossible, even to Leslie. "Yeah.", she muttered quietly. "How about a break?", Leslie nudged her before walking back to his desk, "We can grab some lunch before the interviews?" "Okay." Just then Oliver walked in with a take-out bag and plopped into his chair with a sign, "Ah, man, I swear I almost fell asleep in line. Damn, if I wouldn't kill for a shower, too." "You could go home, Ollie." The suggestion made him roll his eyes, "Sure, and then hear all about it from Buchanan." Sabrina shook his head, "He won't say anything." "Maybe to the all-stars. Me, on other hand?", he muttered as set on opening his food, "No matter what good old Oliver does… he only complains." "Okay,", Leslie took a look at his watch, "we heading out or what, Rina?" "One second.", she said, taking note of how far along she was before putting her computer into rest mode. By then her partner was already shrugging on his coat. She quickly threw on her jacket as well, then grabbed her bag on the way out. "Have fun, you two.", Oliver called after them as Leslie pulled the door open for her.

"The lawyer…", Parish mumbled the second their waiter had left the table in the small bistro they frequently stopped by for a bite. "My food isn't even here yet." He raised a dark eyebrow, seeing right through the attempt to avoid talking about John for a good few more minutes, "Spill, Rina." "How much did Oliver tell you all really?", she asked slowly. "Told you, he was live texting." "Like what?" She wasn't sure if she actually wanted to know the answer, knowing full well the extend of Oliver's sense of humor and the chaos he loved to cause. "Want to see the messages?" "Not really. Just… are the other guys going to look at me weird?", she was refering for the rest of the Missing Persons team and whoever else they had added to the group chat for the birthday party they had thrown for her months back. "No.", Leslie chuckled, "Now back to the lawyer." "John." "Hm?" "His name is John." A nod, "There we go, a start." "I was headed home, you know, as promised.", her remark got a smile out of him, "Sav would have gone to bed by then…I guess I didn't want to deal with Candice for a couple of extra minutes." "Yeah." Leslie knew the situation pretty well and was among the small group of people that saw through her mother's act.

"I see this well-dressed man in the lobby, staring daggers into unconscious Lenny,", his eyes narrowed at 'well-dressed', but she rushed to wrap up the story, especially seeing how the waiter had emerged from the kitchen and carrying over their meals, "I offered my help, tried to pass him onto Stockton, but he wasn't in…" She paused to mutter a quiet thank you as her plate was placed in front of her and she dug into the food that seemed less appetizing with her stomach in knots. Leslie did the same, taking a bite before nodding at her to continue. "Maxwell said I could write up the report for him since he was stuck across town. The guy-" "John.", Leslie corrected her, "You avoiding saying his name?" "No.", she absolutely was, "John didn't seem quite happy with the idea he'd have to wait hours for Stockton to return or stop by in the morning, so he agreed to sit down with me and get his case started." "Who wouldn't." She chose that moment to take a sip of water, almost choking on it, "Leslie." "I'm just being objective." "Sure.", she cleared her throat, "I marked down everything he could provide as information. He asked to make a phone call and then was on his way." Leslie's lips twisted into a smirk, "You forgot how he shouted, 'she's not my girlfriend' about some girl he called." Sabrina huffed, "Shouted? That's just Oliver's flair for dramatics." Not really, but saying otherwise wouldn't make you drop the subject, will it… "Rina." "Fine, maybe his voice was a bit raised, so what?" "Then?"

She could feel her cheeks heat up, so she looked down to her plate as she scooped up some more rice into her mouth, before replying, "Nothing." The way Leslie rubbed at his beard told her he had sensed a lead and wasn't going to back down, "I'm waiting." "I gave him a ride.", Sabrina brushed her hair out of her face, feeling frustrated at the fact things hadn't stopped there and that she didn't want them to, "He looked… lost. I guess I thought a small act of kindness wouldn't hurt when his day had been nothing but awful. Dropped him off at his hotel. End of story." He opened his mouth to ask more when her phone buzzed with a new text, that made her raise her finger as she opened it.

John: Still alive. Any lunch spots recommendations? The last thing I need right now is food poisoning.

"You're smiling way too much for this to be news from the lab.", Leslie's voice sounded and she looked up, feeling like she had been caught redhanded when she had done nothing wrong, "That him?" She ignored his question, her food quickly becoming forgotten while her fingers typed out a reply.

Sabrina: Depends… If you're looking for a fine dining spot, I won't be your girl.

John: I'm feeling cranky, (probably because I'm) starving, and I trust your judgement, so shoot.

"Rina?", Leslie called her name, tone full of amusement. Her eyes darted up to his before returning to her phone screen, "Yes?" "So he has your number.", it wasn't a question, but rather a statement.

Sabrina: There's a small restaurant, family owned, Italian, two streets from the precinct.

The spot she had recommended him was in the opposite direction of the restaurant where she was currently having lunch with Leslie, wanting to avoid running into him at any cost because she refused to allow things to get more awkward than they already were. She put her phone down, ignoring the fact it vibrated with a reply and turned back to her food. As she raised the fork to her mouth, she could feel Leslie's stare on her, "Yes, he has my number." "You gave it to him or he somehow found it?" "Leslie…" He shrugged, chewing on his food slowly before he pointed his knife at her, "Just doing my part, Rina. Trying to figure out if 'this guy' is a creep or not. So, well?" "I think he took one of my cards off my desk…" "He's texting your work number?" "Yeah." It wasn't a complete lie. "And now he wants?" "A good place to go for lunch." "He asked you out-" "No." "It wasn't a question." Her face scrunched up in confusion, "Nothing about his texts hinted at that, Leslie." He smiled, "Can I see?" "No.", the answer came out way too quickly, causing him to let out a laugh. Just great. Yet handing over her phone and having him see all the previous messages didn't seem like the best idea. Not when he'd insist on John's intentions even more then. Worry about her. "Just trust me on that. He's never been to Portland and considering his luck, he just wanted-" "You're saying that with way too much confidence. Like you know know him." A breathed out a sigh, "Just drop it, please. Change the subject." "Fine.", Leslie nodded, "But I'm telling you, he was asking you out." "And he chose to do it in the most roundabout way possible…why?" "Because he's afraid." It was her turn to chuckle, "Afraid?" "That you will say no, 'break his heart' or more like hurt his ego, considering he's a fancy ass attorney. So instead he's hoping you'd suggest keeping him company first…" Sabrina couldn't help but roll her eyes, "I think Ollie is rubbing off on you." Leslie's gaze shot up to her phone when it buzzed again, "Now, that is him asking you out. He couldn't handle waiting."

Tagging, @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @corvosattano @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @voidika @madparadoxum @poisonedtruth @nightbloodbix @nightwingshero @jillvalentinesday @cassietrn @chazz-anova @simplegenius042 @purplehairsecretlair @adelaidedrubman @dumbassdep @theelderhazelnut @strangefable @trench-rot @aceghosts and anyone else with something to share this week ❤️