thc-magician

[thc-magician]

EMILIO KOVAČ.

“I have fielded no complaints thus far,” Emilio points out, licking the remaining tint of alcohol off his lips. “Nor will I in the future, I should think. Your performance was nothing short of admirable.” It’s starting to affect him now, the vodka; the pleasant thrum of intoxication washes through him, warm, colouring the tips of his ears red. Typically he has his reservations about appearing in such vulnerable a state in front of others, but Rune remains the outlying exception.

He’s seen Emilio at his most vulnerable and has deemed him worthy.

His eyes follow the bottle for a while before he looks up again, expression mild. “Why shouldn’t we talk about it? This is as appropriate a time as any don’t you think? There’s no one close enough to hear if it’s embarrassment that inhibits you. But I don’t think you regret it either, or you wouldn’t be sitting here with me.” Again Emilio claims the bottle, adding a further dent to their efforts of emptying it of its contents.

“All of this lends itself to the conclusion that you enjoyed it, and that you wouldn’t be averse to repeating the experience.” Raising an eyebrow, he mimics Rune’s motion of resting his chin in his hand. “All you need do is ask.”

Rune can’t help the look of amusement as he listens to Aleksandr talk, nor does he bother even trying to hide it. He might accuse Aleksandr of putting on airs if the man weren’t obviously over half a bottle of vodka in already, and if Rune weren’t already getting a sense that this is just… how he seems to be. It’s an oddly fond realization, one that comes with the perhaps too-bold assumption that Rune is getting to see these sides of Aleksandr because the man is choosing to show them. Choosing to let Rune see.

“My performance was admirable, huh?” Rune echoed, more of the amusement sneaking into his tone and steeping it with good-natured teasing. “This is starting to sound like a job review, hero. Someday you’ll have to teach me how you manage to keep stringing such long words together when you’re this far into the bottle.”

He’s stalling, naturally. None of that answers Aleksandr’s question, or rather, none of that asks the question that’s already occupying the space between them, much like the bottle of vodka. “I don’t regret it, no,” Rune finally says, finding it strange to voice aloud even if he’d been thinking it for the past couple of months, even in light of neither of them speaking since. “And if I said I did want a repeat, what then? You seem free tonight, hero. Unless you’re too far into the bottle,” he adds, a little teasing, a little challenging. Rune’s slender fingertips come to rest on the top of the bottle, tipping it casually this way and that. “Wouldn’t want to interrupt the two of you.”

[thc-magician]

The Red Rose; mid-afternoon || @victor-byrneliddell

Rune’s frown was more severe than usual as he stood, arms crossed over his broad chest, listening to the muttered but insistent grievances of one of his dealers. The room was largely empty at this point, the Red Rose a strange shell of a building compared to its usual noise and bustle the moment the doors opened. That was still hours away at this point, and the largest room available was populated only by Rune, a couple of straggling dealers, and cleaners who were far too used to the darker inner workings of the casino (and the Jabberwocks) to pay them the least mind.

When Rune finally saw the last of them off, his frown persisted as he circled back behind the bar, packing away envelopes fat with cash and closing the lid of the briefcase with a sharp click. He slid this across the bar to a runner with a nod, then let himself be briefly absorbed with jotting a few quick notes in incomprehensible shorthand in his journal. When he looked up again, it was as if Vic materialized from thin air, for all Rune heard his cousin’s approach.

“Hey,” he said simply, smoothing away the concern to something more neutral. “You’re here early. Something up?”

[thc-magician]

EILIDH O’DEA.

In the back of the Uber, the anger in Eilidh had burned away, leaving her almost hollow in its wake. The fear was still there, the desperate feeling like she couldn’t be alone right now remained too, now accompanied by an almost empty look behind her eyes. One that didn’t leave them even after they passed the threshold into Rune’s home. Shuffling about after him with little more than a nod and a murmur of thanks. Setting about unpacking the mismatched array of items packed in a panic in the guest room he’d directed her towards.

Any awkwardness there she completely chalked up to her end. It was what made sense, obviously. A text late at night about something having happened, and then showing up in a state like this? Hell, she probably still had mascara halfway down her face. She’d cried enough.

And it took her a second or two to realise Rune was back, leaning in the doorway, but she didn’t jump at the suddenness. No, she was right in one thing, no matter how muddled her head was right now. She felt safe around him. Eilidh managed half a smile as she accepted the bottle of water from him, taking a sip before thanking him. It was the most audible thing she’d said since arriving, and still it wasn’t much. But she listened as he rambled on about the shower, nodding a little before answering. “Uh mebbe later, aye?” She didn’t want to be alone right now, but she couldn’t say that.

“It’s uh- it’s been a rough night”

He’d never seen her like this before. Unhappy, sure; you didn’t drink together as often as they did without having the odd night of weepy drinking or bad trips. But never unhappy like… this. Eilidh was more like a shell or a shadow of her usual self, and also unlike their usual downer nights together, it wasn’t something that seemed like it could be fixed by another round.

“Sure,” Rune said gently instead, waiting another beat before finally crossing to join her on the bed. He was at least well enough used to late-night talks with Achara that he didn’t shy away from the concept, but Eilidh wasn’t Achara. He wasn’t entirely sure how to approach this. The best way with his sister usually meant making himself available and letting her come to him, so. Rune figured he could start there.

When he sits their sides are barely touching, in sharp contrast to the way they usually find themselves all but draped over each others’ laps after a particularly long night out. Rune nudges her with his shoulder, gently but not tentatively, and murmurs in the quiet of his apartment, “If you want to talk about it… I’m here, love. And if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m still here.”

[thc-magician]

Some divey bar; late evening || @calebdraper

This wasn’t Rune’s typical haunt, that was for sure; his typical haunt was, of course, the Red Rose — or at least, other places of equal or higher quality. Here his immaculate shoes stuck to the floor, and he’d caught his attention wandering to whether or not he ought to have his slacks drycleaned or burned when the night was over. But he was meeting friends from medical school, and Derek, the one who’d planned the evening, always had… specific tastes.

The most sober of the lot of them because he tended to do the most marathon drinking of his own, Rune had collected bottles and glasses from the rapidly filling booth table to deposit them at the bar, doing his level best not to touch anything in the process. He stood there for a moment and rolled up his shirt sleeves as the bartender prepared the next round, and subsequently did a double-take at the man sitting nearest.

Caleb. Caleb Draper. His sister’s former roommate. Rune felt a pang of something almost resembling guilt; he’d all but demanded his sister move in the wake of Malachi’s disappearance, as if he could play shell games with his younger sibling to keep her safe. He’d never interacted much with Caleb, himself, but she had always seemed to get along with him. Then again, Achara seemed to get along with everyone. For her it was a gift, and for Rune, it was a headache.

Rune considered not saying anything, but there had always been something about Caleb that intrigued him. Beyond the good looks, anyway. He cleared his throat. “Caleb, isn’t it? We met before.” Rune gestured to himself. “Rune. Achara’s brother. She, ah. I’m sure she’d want me to apologize on her behalf again, for moving so suddenly.” No, she wouldn’t. She’d just want to yell at Rune for making the decision for her some more, but he could handle that if it meant keeping her safe. He knew there would never be a thing he could make his sister do without her wanting to, so at some level she must’ve understood why he did what he did — even if she’d complained the entire way.

[thc-magician]

Out back behind the Red Rose; late night || @specialkbrown

Keltie Brown. Rune had been warned about her from his predecessor, the former Magician; there’s something not quite right about that girl, he’d been told. Rune hadn’t really needed elaboration, or even a why. In his mind, anyone who abandoned the Jabberwocks couldn’t have any idea what they were doing.

They’d never worked closely together, at least, so he didn’t feel much sting from her departure a few years back; only the nagging, lingering resentment reserved for former Jabberwocks who’d made the wrong decision.

“You’ve a lot of nerve coming around here,” he called out coolly, ushering one of his dealers in through a back door as he slipped an envelope, thick with cash, into an inner pocket of his jacket. An ornate cigarette case was produced in its stead, which he tapped neatly and decisively against the heel of his hand. “There something I can help you with, Ms. Brown?” Though the way Rune asked suggested he’d rather do anything but help.

[thc-magician]

Rune’s flat, late night/early morning || Referencing. @eilidhodea

Rune was doing his best not to hover, but it was a fucking struggle.

Maybe it was the residual worry about his own siblings bleeding out around the edges — Mal was still missing, and Rune was getting to the point of fussing over Achara that he wouldn’t be surprised if she cut off all contact for the next two months until he evened out. He’d be incredibly guilty to admit aloud that Eilidh’s text was an effective distraction, but the moment he opened the door and saw the look in her eyes, any sense of relief vanished.

The guest room in his extravagant flat was already made up, if a bit minimalist and sterile — Rune couldn’t even remember the last time he had company that wasn’t his sister, which was exactly why he paced the kitchen while Eilidh took a moment to settle her things. It was rare that the two of them felt awkward around each other, but it was also rare that they spent much time together sober. Or vulnerable.

Rune let out a soft sigh, grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, and padded back in bare feet to lean in the doorway, holding one out to her. What happened? was on the tip of his tongue, but instead he cleared his throat and said, “The, uh. If you want a shower, the hot tap is kind of loose. Been meaning to get someone ‘round to fix it, but.” He hesitated, then shrugged. “I can show you.”

[thc-magician]

EMILIO KOVAČ.

“Pretty sure I own that bottle of vodka you’ve been drinking from,” Emilio counters without much malignancy, leaning back more comfortably in the chair. He’s willing to share for now, if only because it’s Rune he’s sharing with. “Seeing as I paid for it with my hard earned cash. We can’t all be born into unfathomable wealth.” How easy and quickly they fall back into the same pattern of give and take; sharp wit and well-placed quips, dancing around the hard questions and uncomfortable truths with rehearsed ease. It feels natural with Rune. More natural than any of the conversations he’s been having of late.

Pleased that Rune finally decides to sit and stay, Emilio reaches across the table to swipe the vodka from him. It goes down far easier than water. “Busy month, busy life. You know how it is, I’m sure.” He has been busy; busy stabbing and shooting and strangling half of London on Javier’s orders, purging the streets of anyone the Jolly Rogers’ new King deems unworthy of life. Like a good soldier Emilio has kept his head down and his mouth shut, but this streak of obedience can only continue on for so long. A gun unloaded is still a gun.

“I’m surprised you’ve noticed my absence at all. It must be hard and strenuous work keeping all these customers satisfied to your standards.” Jealousy suits him like an ill-fitted coat. Not once has the thought of exclusivity come up between them, nor will it ever. Whatever they have isn’t meant to last. “Or maybe you’ve been missing me somewhere else?”

Unfathomable wealth. Rune leans his chin in his hand and smiles, lazy and boyish. He’s fielded too many digs like that over the years for it to sting, especially the way Aleksandr says it. It’s still a dig, but one without barbs. Light-hearted, even, though rooted in… something. Rune will have to try and sink his fingers into that another time.

Reclaiming the vodka with a pointed look once his companion has taken another drink, Rune simply shrugs, sliding the bottle back and forth between his hands rather than taking a sip of his own. Ever since his parents died, he hasn’t known how to function without being busy. It’s a product of his paranoia and insomnia, probably, or maybe the cause of it. Cyclical. Rune does take a drink from the bottle now, but he cuts it off with a laugh at what Aleksandr says next.

“They’re needy people, Hero. But you don’t strike me as the needy type.” Or at least, it’s hard for Rune to imagine, even if he does want to pick apart Aleksandr’s phrasing. “And, maybe I have. Unless there was something about our last encounter you didn’t enjoy.” Rune’s subsequent look is pointed, but with an inevitable edge of… not quite hurt. Or vulnerability. Something else, but something guarded. “But we don’t have to talk about that when you’re a half bottle in,” Rune adds to smooth it over, sliding the bottle to a neutral middle of the table in the same moment.

[thc-magician]

EMILIO KOVAČ.

Emilio doesn’t protest when Rune swiftly exchanges the bottle of vodka for one of water, eyes barely lifting from the point on the far wall he’s been staring at for the past few moments. It’s uncomfortable hearing Rune call him Aleksandr when all Emilio wants to do in that moment is tell him the truth, consequences be damned. Maybe Rune would forgive him for lying. Maybe he’d understand the necessity for dishonesty in times like these. It’s a risk he’s going to have to take at some point, even if for now he decides to allow himself to appreciate the concern in Rune’s voice.

“What does one in the mood for company typically look like?” Emilio finally looks up, gaze lingering none too briefly on Rune’s bared throat before wandering further upwards. Absentmindedly he notes that the bruises he’d there left have since faded and are in clear need of being refreshed. Later, perhaps, when Rune has joined him in intoxication.

“I invited you to sit and drink, did I not?” Gesturing briefly to the bottles he then nudges at the empty chair with his shoe. “You might hurt my feelings if you don’t sit down. Unless you have better places to be and other customer drinks to steal?”

What does Aleksandr look like when he actually wants company? Rune isn’t sure he knows, beyond the dark looks he’d been on the receiving end of weeks ago, the thought of which still sends a brief thrill down his spine. Rune huffs out a breath in a futile attempt to dispel the residual sensation. “I own a portion of this place, remember? It’s not stealing if it’s mine.”

Rune could pretend some part of him considered walking away, seeing if Aleksandr’s feelings really could be hurt — but this was a foregone conclusion the moment Rune noticed him in the corner, alone. Rune still looks like he wants to complain but by some miracle he doesn’t, slipping out of his suit coat to hang on the back of the chair with a sigh — the best indicator he can give that says he’ll stay a while — before settling into his seat and resting his elbows on the table.

A beat passes, and Rune isn’t sure what to say. His fingertips brush the edges of the label of the vodka bottle as he considers, then takes the bottle up again for another long sip.

“So. Busy month?” he finally asks, albeit coolly. It can’t be an accusation without hypocrisy, even if the temptation is there. Rune didn’t reach out, either. But that didn’t mean he hasn’t cared where Aleksandr had gone. “Haven’t seen you around.”

[thc-magician]

Rune does his best to play unaffected as he studies Theo studying the clipboard, but he knows the man’s not an idiot. No one gets to the precarious but artfully balanced place Theo is by being an idiot. So while he may not understand the full ins and outs of what Rune does and how his experiments work on a fundamental level, he knows what that clipboard and its information — or lack thereof — may mean.

It feels a bit like being scolded by an older brother, which Rune doesn’t find unwelcome but is unused to. Malachi tended to trust Rune’s experiments with a general abandon, for better or worse. Maybe, even though it feels like being scolded, it also feels like Theo gives a fuck — not that it explicitly felt like Mal didn’t, but there’s a distinct difference in leadership Rune is still getting used to.

Rune perches on a high metal stool by his workbench, shrugging. The gesture is largely lackadaisical, but there’s an undercurrent of discomfort. “I’m careful. You know I can be careful.” Maybe most people didn’t, but Rune would hope his fellow Jabberwocks leadership could at least understand why he does what he does. “But- yes. I understand.” Is this how Achara feels when he scolds her for being careless? A little too reckless? Rune’s not accustomed to being the younger sibling figure.

“With Malachi missing, we have to lock down our other strengths. People are going to find out,” he says under no uncertain terms, meeting Theo’s eyes. “And with that blood in the water, we can’t risk losing any other footholds. I’m just trying to keep us ahead in the game.” Rune paused. “And because of that, I very much don’t intend on going anywhere. Dropping dead or otherwise.”

"So this is the stamping tech that you spent two-fifths of your budget on." The one from the infamous expense reports. Theodore holds up one of the capsules to the light - Rune's not wrong, there’s that je ne sais quoi, people will pay for that je ne sais quoi - before tugging the nearby clipboard close. He examines it. “Your testing pool seems a little small though, no?” Theodore muses after his eyes trace over the data and it’s results. His tone is curious, loaded. The numbers - or rather, lack of them - tell a clear story. 

Look, if Rune wants to fuck around and sample their supply, be a little guinea pig for the rush of it, Theodore intends to have a few words about that. Words along of the lines of 'is now really the time?' The last thing Theo needs is the head of drug manufacturing to wind up face-down in a pool only a week after their leader goes missing. If such a thing were to happen, Theodore would find a way to resurrect Rune, just so he could put him in the ground again for the piss poor timing. He’s sure Rune’s sister wouldn’t feel too differently. “We’ve got enough on plate, Rune," is what Theodore settles for and his words are thick and heavy, hanging almost forebodingly between them. Telling Rune to get clean is also not the point of his visit, even if it quickly seems to be turning into it. 

“I was here looking for leads, but I'm sure if there was something you'd have found it by now. We don’t know how long we’re gonna be like this, so we'll keep the roll out for the rest of the year as planned - ” he sighs. Theo doesn’t go confessional anymore, hasn't since he was a kid, but this feels a little bit like it. He’s confides, not in his words, but in his weary gaze, and only for a second – and then it’s all business. “- but that roll-out only happens if you're here. I can’t have you dropping dead on me, understand?” He taps the clipboard somewhat incriminatingly. They can joke about expense reports later, when things are finally settled and in order. And when Theo finally grows a sense of humor.

[thc-magician]

i am a luxury few can tolerate

[thc-magician]

ACHARA SICHANTHA.

There’s the sound of the door opening and Achara’s ready to javelin-throw a pen at the person who’s dared to disturb the sanctuary she’s claimed in the break room. A wisp of smoke sits on her lips, vape pinched between her fingers, and she preemptively holds up her badge without even looking to see who it is. “I’m a doctor, I know exactly what this is doing to my body” she drawls before letting it go. The badge snaps back to her side with a small sting courtesy of her badge extender. The ‘No Smoking’ sign in the corner stares her down. 

Break time. Achara’s here for some shitty coffee, a quick nap, a little drag - but her eyes snap open at the familiar voice. She would know the sound of him, the shape of her brother anywhere. 

She spots the coffee, the smell hits her not too long after. The affair they’ve got set up in the break room is sub-par at best, just barely a fairer substitute for grease oil. It doesn’t matter how Rune got in here, Achara just makes a sound, an appreciative hum of thanks for the cup he hands to her. But almost immediately, she pauses mid sip. She peers at him over the rim of her cup with slight scrutiny.

“You look like shit.”

’More so than usual’ she wants to tease, but finds her concern congeals the words in her throat. It’s habit at this point to scan her brother for bullet holes, for stabs, for scratches, for signs of his little hobby that involves sampling the very supply he creates (’What the fuck, Rune?’ she always says.) With all the lying that happens, with all the falsehoods that the average person offers up to their medical professionals, becoming a lie detector of sorts has been crucial to saving lives - but as far as Achara can tell Rune is unscathed. Physically, at least. She’s not discounting the slight traces of exhaustion that crescent under her brother’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

Rune doesn’t even bother to roll his eyes at the abruptness of Achara’s assessment, partially because he’s used to it and partially because it’s true. The worst stretches of his insomnia and paranoia can’t be covered up with a well-tailored suit or a flashy shirt, least of all for someone who knows him as well as his sister.

“Nice to see you, too, and you’re welcome,” he says flatly instead, settling himself into the chair beside hers as soon as it seems like she’s finished glancing him over. Rune hates the habit that’s become, and the reasons he’s given her to develop it. He knows they’re his fault. He also knows he won’t stop, not unless she asks.

Rune also knows lying or avoiding her question would be the epitome of pointlessness, but that doesn’t stop him from hesitating, letting out a slow sigh of a breath as his thumbnail picks absentmindedly at the cardboard sleeve on his own coffee. He can’t even console himself with an ‘it’s better if she knows,’ because it’s just one more reason to worry her.

“Malachi is missing,” he finally murmurs regardless, pausing and pressing his lips into a thin line before glancing at her sidelong, not sure what reaction he expects. Achara’s unpredictability, her fire, has always been something he liked about her; now, though, Rune shifts uncomfortably in the hard wooden chair. “No note from him, no message from anyone else.” He’d elaborate, but he can’t. There’s literally nothing else they know about the situation yet.

[thc-magician]

Rune doesn’t jump when he’s startled; that’s a reaction that’s been whittled out of him piece by piece, desensitized over the years by shouting and gunshots. When Rune’s startled he reaches for his gun, a smooth, familiar gesture almost as easy as breathing — but then he recognizes Theo’s voice as the door clicks behind them, and his hand drops back to his side.

He knows it’s excessive to wear a piece even here, considering the aggressive security, but Rune is rarely without a gun, anyway, and even more so these days. Paranoia, certainly, that’s been hanging over him like a thick fog since the day his parents died. It’d numbed over nearly two decades, but with Malachi missing, all of his nerves have been kicked back up to eleven. It’s exhausting, and he can’t help himself.

It does help that he trusts Theo — in general, as family, but also as next in line. A shitty situation could be made so much worse with the wrong leader to step in, but Rune finds the tension in his shoulders unspooling at Theo’s presence. Crossing with a nod, Rune briefly squeezes Theo’s shoulder as be brushes past, moving to turn on the lights at the worktable designated for him, and him alone.

“Yeah. Ish. The stamping tech is better, which is good for our branding and for adding that certain… je ne sais quoi,” Rune adds airily, glancing back at Theo over his shoulder with a smile. “You here about my expense report? Still waiting to get paid back for that.” A joke. Probably. Rune is more interested in the why of Theo being here, but tries not to hope for any good news.

who: @thc-magician

where: jabberwocks pharmaceutical lab

when: 1:32 am

Evening turns to witching hour, witching hour turns to something unholy, and Theodore heads down to one of the Jabberwocks labs - Death turned King. The Jabberwocks are going on day six of Malachi's disappearance and Theodore grips any unease that threatens to bend its way through through the gang by the neck. He urges scrutiny, measured caution, till they can get to the bottom of this - 'there are no targets on your backs but don’t give them an opening to put one there' - but his own sleep schedule has been shot to hell. 

A retinal scan unlocks the pharmaceutical bay, but Theodore has to grope around for the lights to get them to wink on. He intends to be methodical about this, over turn every stone until he’s searched all their ancillary avenues of revenue for even a wisp of a clue. Besides, what else is he going to do other than wander like a waif if sleep eludes him? There’s a text on his phone telling Luis not to wait up for him. It’s identical to the one he’s sent every night for the last week. 

Theodore’s over by the capsule filling machines when the door clicks open. He doesn’t turn, doesn’t question the insomnia he knows his cousin has been plagued with since their childhood years - simply points at the capsules cases next to the machinery. “Are these new?”

[thc-magician]

EMILIO KOVAČ.

who: @thc-magician​ where: the red rose casino

It takes a respectable amount of alcohol to get Emilio drunk at the best of times — but these are the worst of times in every way possible, so he orders an entire bottle of vodka without glass or ice and retreats to a table somewhere in the corner, as far away from company as it gets. There’s neither rhyme nor reason to the decision of picking the Red Rose as the place to drink. The list of reasons as to why it’s a bad idea factually outweighs any reason he should be there, all things considered, but Emilio���s never been good at paying heed to logic.

He hasn’t seen or heard from Rune in weeks; not since he’d quietly snuck out of the hotel room they’d found themselves in following a long night of drinking and Rune’s hands creeping into places they really shouldn’t have. It’d been a terrible mistake on both parts, but perhaps more so on Emilio’s side following Rune’s candour about his name. It’s a favour Emilio has not yet returned, too concerned about the inevitable complications the truth would bring with it. Alexandr is harmless, a small-time criminal stealing and threatening only to make ends meet. Emilio on the other hand is directly connected to the enemy, and with Malachi gone and Eliza at the beginning of a life-long prison sentence, that’s not something he imagines Rune would be amicable towards discovering.

In the end Emilio convinces himself that the Red Rose is probably one of the safest places for him at the moment. Javier doesn’t have the jurisdiction to start any shit at the casino, and there are just enough non-gang affiliated civilians around for the Jabberwocks to leave him alone — for now. Emilio doesn’t intend to overstay his welcome or to piss anyone off, but the bottle’s two thirds empty much sooner than expected, and the seat he’s chosen is too damn comfortable to vacate just yet. 

Preoccupied with his own miseries, it doesn’t occur to him that the casino is actually the place he’s most likely to run into Rune until it’s too late. Backed into a corner in the truest sense of the word, Emilio swallows down any words of concern he might have voiced at the tired expression on Rune’s face, and instead gestures to the remains of the vodka with a sweeping gesture.

“There’s still enough for two.”

Rune genuinely isn’t sure which would irritate him more: if Aleksandr had come to the Red Rose to see him, then chickened out to drink in the corner; or if Aleksandr hadn’t planned to see him at all, and this was purely coincidence. Rune could’ve been his usual brand of petty and simply ignored him, pretended not to see him, but at no point has Aleksandr had Rune acting how he usually acts. And therein lies the problem.

Lips thinning at Aleksandr’s offer, unimpressed, Rune takes one look at the level of alcohol in the bottle and walks away. A smarter man might not even come back, but eventually he reappears with a glass bottle of unnecessarily fancy water, sliding it across the table to replace the bottle of vodka. “Let’s trade,” he says simply, then lifts the bottle of vodka to his lips and tilts his head back. The view Rune offers of his throat, bared and smoothly muscled, is entirely on purpose; if the bruises Aleksandr had left when last they met were any indication, he had a particular appreciation for that part of Rune’s body.

Swallowing down the vodka as though it might as well be the water he traded it for, Rune sets the bottle down again between them, not empty but notably lighter. He doesn’t sit yet, sizing Aleksandr up with an inscrutable expression. To be mad at him would be largely hypocritical. Neither of them had reached out. 

“You don’t exactly look in the mood for company,” is what Rune finally settles on to say. His tone isn’t even scathing; there’s a hint of concern that sneaks in, whether he likes it or not. Where have you been?

“Why are you here, Aleksandr?” No cute nickname, no games. “If you’re not actually looking for company, it won’t hurt my feelings.” Probably.

[thc-magician]

WARDROBE.

Flashy but comfortable; expensive but classic. Rune is rarely seen in a state of anything less than every hair in place — even after a long night of excess.

[thc-magician]

St George’s Hospital || late afternoon @chaotiics​

The lively bustle of the hospital always felt like home to Rune. Their father’s private clinic had never been quite so chaotic as the emergency ward could be, naturally, but there was still a very specific brand of urgency that felt familiar. Finding comfort in the smell of antiseptic was hardly common, he knew, but the Sichanthas aren’t a common family.

Rune nods amiably to one of the nurses behind the station desk and receives little more than a glower in return. They don’t love the way he wanders through like he owns the place, but after years, they’ve learned there isn’t much they can do about it. The amount of money Rune tends to drop in regular charitable donations probably helps dissuade any attempts to tell him ‘no.’

With one of his siblings to the proverbial wind, he’s decided he needs to have eyes on the other immediately. Yesterday, even. The Sichanthas never go that long without seeing each other anyway, and it isn’t as if he hasn’t been peppering her with texts, but Rune knows the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach won’t so much as ease unless he can see her. Talk to her. With two sturdy paper cups of coffee in hand from the needlessly expensive café around the corner, Rune follows direction and finds Achara in the eye of the storm; one of the emergency wing’s break rooms.

“Hey,” he offers as casually as possible, but despite best efforts, the relief he feels to see her crawls its way into the tone. Setting the cup of coffee on the table between them, he doesn’t sit yet, cocking his head and half-smiling.

“Imagine this is a step up from the burned stuff they’ve always got in the break room.”

[thc-magician]

EMILIO KOVAĆ.

Rune? Fuck. Momentarily taken aback, it took Emilio a few seconds to rearrange his thoughts. He’d never met or seen the guy before, but arguably, he didn’t have to. Everyone in the business with more than half a brain knew of Rune: Malachi’s adopted brother, right-hand man, lover, pet - depending on your persuasion. Emilio too had heard the name mentioned before - usually in close association with meetings on just how much shit Malachi’s rats were causing the Jolly Rogers’. For all the notoriety surrounding Rune’s reputation, Emilio hadn’t expected him to look quite so young.

The moment of surprise passed quickly and Emilio smoothed out his expression once again, unwilling to let any recognition show. He might have expected Rune to be present at a Liddell family party, but he hadn’t been expecting Rune to also turn out to be the man Emilio had threatened in the streets not so long ago. A stroke of extreme good or extreme bad luck, he couldn’t quite decide.

“Fancy name. I guess that sort of thing comes with being rich.” Assured that Rune had not yet sniffed him out as the enemy, Emilio copied the motion of relaxing against the wall. “Maybe I like being called hero. But if you get bored, you can call me Aleksandr. Your fancy expensive education teach you how to properly pronounce that?”

If there was any obvious flicker of surprise or hesitation across his companion’s face, Rune didn’t appear to notice through the comfortable haze of alcohol. Similarly, Rune tried to keep his own complicated feelings on the commentary related to his own name under lock and key; not a conversation for a party, and not with someone Rune found so undeniably fascinating. His hero’s edges are less prickly tonight, and it’s a look that looks good on him.

“Aleksandr,” Rune echoed, mindful of the pronunciation, considering Emilio’s significant commentary to follow. “Sounds fancy, too. I like it.” Not that Aleksandr seemed to care in the least for Rune’s opinions, which was arguably one of the reasons Rune felt drawn to him. Problematic thoughts for some other time. “Would like to see—”

Ironically, this was where the bright lights around them abruptly and unceremoniously cut off. Rune stiffened in surprise, dropping whatever hand was still tangled in the delicate chains of Aleksandr’s costume to straighten, frowning. He blinked a few times, willing his eyes to adjust — but the lights were out everywhere, apparently, with nothing filtering even through the enormous windows and glass doors that looked out towards the city. “What the fuck,” Rune declared simply, eloquently, more irritated at his conversation being interrupted than yet concerned for what this could mean.

[thc-magician]

SAMAR KHAN.

Samar absorbed what was being said, letting it swirl around for awhile before he mirrored the same attitude as the one to bring it to light. His lips shifted before speaking, as if taking in another account of the person himself before adding his own words to the mix. “Do you think that’s strange to hear someone like you saying that?” Between the suit he wore and the family who owned the casino he worked for, a disconnect dawned on him, looking at it from an outside perspective, more curious than damning. Hopefully it would be taken as such.

At least, on his own side of things, he could find some humor in what was posed to him, his job, his boss. “It was suggested, not forced, to be fair,” he fixed before he took a sip for the rest. “I don’t guess you’re a strong supporter, then? Or is it politics in general?”

.

Someone like you. Rune inevitably grinned; he was often called out on his privilege, so often that it’d ceased to bother him years ago. “No, you’re absolutely right. Glass houses and all that,” Rune mused, gaze unbroken but likewise more curious than it was anything else. “I’d like to think not being born with what I have now makes some kind of difference, but maybe that’s too much to hope for.” Rune shrugged airily, unbothered.

“But, no. Suffice it to say, my current opinion towards politics is… complicated.” A near-hilarious understatement, even as Rune hid his own amusement behind a slow sip of his drink. “Interest waning, one might say. Slightly disillusioned, considering that nasty business that hit the public eye recently.” Rune raised his eyebrows slightly, smiling. “I’d be curious to hear your commentary on it, but it also feels rude to ask you to talk shop at a party, so. Don’t feel obligated.”