Realistic or Modern Empire City: The Irish Mob - IC (Closed)

[Misty Gray]

Emery Callahan​

Emery was glad when Peter had agreed to give her a lift to work. With her parents' troubles and the business, she hadn't been sure if her father would still be home or if he might even be sleeping off a hangover from the previous night.

Once they were in the car and on their way down the street, Emery watched Peter's hand as his turned the dial on the radio. A pleased smile covered her face when he stopped on a radio station that met her approval. It made her feel happy knowing her parents understood her tastes. Hell, even Savannah had acknowledged it when she played the piano the night before. Emery knew she wasn't as creative as her sister, so it felt good when her individual interests were taken into account. When Peter pushed some of her hair behind her ear and began singing along to The Beatles, she couldn't help but let out a playful laugh. As she processed the lyrics he was singing, her smile faded and she briefly looked away to gaze out of the window. She nodded her head before turning back to her father and studying his face. He'd been through so much and even if people had tried to shelter her from the details, she understood.

"I loved it when you and Mum used to sing to us," Emery told him when he mentioned it. "I'm glad you had us to think about when you were locked up in that place. I always thought of you." She then softly smiled as she remembered something from a long time ago. "I remember the first time you got arrested. I was really young then, but I remember answering the phone that night and you were on the other end. You called me Smiley and I recall finding it funny hearing you on the other end of the phone. But even though I was little, I knew something was wrong and I wanted you to know I loved you." She ran her fingers through her hair. "Then everyone around me got real sad and I knew I had to keep smiling. I had to stay strong and be Smiley. Seriously, I held our family together," she sarcastically snorted.

Emery placed her hand on her father's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze. "None of us want you back in there either. We can do this. We've all just got to stick together and everything will be okay." She studied Peter's face and sighed as she felt as if she could see the turmoil within him. "And get help, Dad. You said you would last night and I'm holding you to it now."

As Peter parked up outside All That Jazz, Emery looked to her father and smiled. "Come in for a bit, Dad? Maybe say hi to Mum?" she encouraged him.

Sinead Callahan​

Sinead sat in her office as she looked through the paperwork she'd worked hard to get on top of. One of the alcohol suppliers had bumped up their prices and she was going to compare with Aliana when she got chance. If it was above board then she would accept it, but if someone was trying to take advantage of her then Sinead wasn't going to stand for it. She was tired of people thinking she was a pushover. There was a knock on her door and before she could say anything, Scott let himself in anyway. Sinead looked to his face and groaned as she sensed a talk coming on. "Not now, Scott. Emmy is due any minute and I want to clear my desk before she gets here."

"Alright, Sinead. You know you can talk to me, right? Don't push your friends away..." Scott calmly told her.

"I don't need to push anyone away. You'll leave, just like the rest of them. So how about you just go do your job and I'll do mine?" she told him, her voice firm yet still managing to falter. It was true that she felt like anyone she got close to would eventually leave her. More than that, she was now worried about Scott getting too close following Peter's warning. She knew from the past that people easily misinterpreted her warm and tactile nature. She didn't want Scott to get hurt because of her.

"Nah. That right there, Sinead. That's you pushing people away." Scott gruffly told her. He was a patient man and wasn't yet about to take her words to heart. "I'm going outside for a smoke and a walk around the block. I've not had my break yet," he informed her. The man then left the office and made his way outside. As he leaned against the front of the club, he lit up his cigarette and then observed those around him. Noticing Peter park the car up, he sent the man a friendly nod and a wave, oblivious to any potential ill-will Mr. Callahan might have towards him.

Bellz (Peter)

 

[Fletchawk]

Owen normally would've of been more cautious when following the bouncer around the side of the building, but this wasn't his first time here, or on Irish terf. They were just as capable of brutality as any other criminal organization in the city, if not more, but their modus operandi tended to be less sadistic and more calculated. However, that didn't mean Owen's guard dropped even when led through the employee's entrance.

Danny met him at the door with his go-to smile, and the fact that it quickly vanished meant that his roommate was at least somewhat present in reality. Before speaking, Owen scanned room, and gauged how far their words could carry. The fact that he could hear the employees' muffled chatter and clatter reminded him to keep his voice low.

"Yeah, as you can probably tell, I'm just groovy," he replied, his poor mood bleeding through before immediately apologizing, "Sorry." Owen sat down on roughly waist height box, and started to ease himself against the wall as he told Danny everything in a nutshell, "Got jumped by four guys while crossing the Willis bridge, was doing a run for East Harlem. Dunno who they were working for, but they got ahold of me before I could bail into the river. But now I'm busted up, and East Harlem isn't gonna be cool with me losing their package." Owen winced a bit as his ribs punished him for being long-winded. As he tentatively traced one of the ribs over his shirt, Owen pondered briefly what was even in the package.

"Any ideas? You used to work for them, yeah?" Owen asked, his voice switching to a lower volume.

Pyroclast [Danny]

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Spoiler: Trigger Warning

Mention of death, loss, grief

Having a fixed goal agreed upon with his counsellor brought a feeling of security over Syd. However difficult it may be in practice, theoretically he figured it should be easy enough to reach Roxie. All he would have to do is get in touch with Savannah and ask her to give him a chance to speak with her - or, failing that, at least pass a message on. Then, however she reacted, he at least would have completed his mission and would be able to report back in his next counselling session. Syd nodded along to Maddox's advice to show him confirmation of the decided task. Maddox had earned his trust and respect long ago, and given how much he had helped to guide Syd in the past, he had every faith that his advice to make amends with Roxie would be a beneficial step for him to take.

His faith didn't quite extend to the counsellor's assurance that 30 was still a young age at which to be single and childless, however. Perhaps he was right, but with the death of his wife having haunted him for the entire duration of his twenties, Syd had been left with an unshakeable feeling of 'what if?'. Wherever he was now, whatever stage in life he was currently at, he couldn't help but occasionally compare it to how he imagined his life would be had Skye not passed away. They would perhaps not have married so young, and instead the wedding would have been under happier circumstances. They would no doubt have had a child together - maybe more than one - who by now would be the same age as Olivia or Lorelei. Indeed, the empty house that Syd was living in now only served as a reminder of what he could have had. On the days when his depression rose to the surface, the silence that surrounded him was hard not to dwell on. In the end, it didn't really matter if 30 was young or old, for it was less a question of age than it was of fulfilment and satisfaction.

In an attempt to shake the thought from his head before he could let it pull him into a dark place, Syd took another refreshing sip of water and then shifted into a more comfortable position. Thankfully, Maddox returned with another question that diverted from the subject of being alone and back to how he felt about going to speak with Roxie. "Oh, yeah, I reckon I can manage it. I mean, I'll have to go away and work out what to say to her first - I seem to be pretty good at offending her, and I don't know how many more chances she'll give me if I blow another one..." It had only been a few minutes since Syd's emotional state had been provoked to the heights of unconscious crying and self-deprecating laughter, but somehow Maddox had talked him into a much calmer state. Now, instead of despair, the smile he sent to the man before him held a glimmer of confidence. "It's something I want to do. So I'll work out a way to get through to her."

Already feeling reassured that he could potentially make the progress that he wanted to make, Maddox's following question about his medication was answered with continuing optimism. "It's going well," he nodded with a smile, then looking to the ceiling as he cast his mind back to the beginning of his current treatment. He had only been taking Doxepin for 2 months, after it had been recommended to him as a new, higher-standard alternative to his previous medications. While the transition hadn't been without its complications, it had so far settled to agree with him better than anything else he had tried. "I think I'm just about done adjusting to it now. I'm feeling less unstable - like I've got a decent grip on things, most of the time - and God, the sleep is nice. I know it's been rough, but I am glad I made the switch." Scratching his head, Syd wasn't sure he trusted himself not to have forgotten something important to say on the matter. "Side effects...uh...nothing worse than...Well, sometimes things will slip by me, or I'll forget things momentarily and end up confused about what's happening. But that's nothing new, really - the old medication made my mind go blank a lot, too. Um...and I get dizzy when I stand up, sometimes - but not often, and it goes away if I just wait a minute." All in all, Syd didn't want to give the counsellor a reason to be concerned, in case he lowered the dosage or prescribed him something else. He couldn't face the thought of switching again so soon. With a slightly mischievous grin, he added, "I'm starting to know my limits with alcohol, too."

Interactions
Misty Gray Maddox

Bellz Roxie (mentioned)

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad​

Silence enveloped the space around the medic as he secluded himself from his own body, as if his very essence was departing from his skin. His eyes remained locked with the darkened shoes he wore, but his spirit was looking up at whatever higher powers there may be. It was calling for an answer, for a confirmation, that his actions were justified. Assad wondered if the eyes above were watching him, and if they were, what they would tell him to do now. Something beyond the scope of his normal personality was motivating him, and he wasn’t sure if it was something that he wanted to let take control, or usurp to rid himself of these otherworldly desires. There were a hundred different ways he could’ve phrased his confession, and a hundred different outcomes to this very ordeal. The Syrian was in search of the most precious treasure he could attain, and he was unwilling to seek the easy way out solely because the journey was arduous, however, his efforts would be in vain if he lost his way in the process.

Others had crept into his mind before, and tried to take reign of his feelings, but none before the gunrunner had come so dangerously close to overtaking his heart in such a manner. Still, he couldn’t figure out why she had to be the one who Farrid was inexplicably lured to. Perhaps it was because they shared a common enemy deep within themselves, kept out of sight in the hopes that it will be erased with time. Hands constricted within his pockets, and his clenching teeth locked his jaw together, tighter and tighter to the point of causing the Syrian driver discomfort. The mix between the two roommates was similar to a puzzle he had partially prepared, yet it was missing that one piece to complete the picture. Farrid operated off of past experiences and predicting what would his actions would come out to, but relying on such mentalities could not save him now. He could see the puzzle, he could even almost see the whole picture, however he couldn’t make it out entirely without that missing piece.

The medic was ripped from his trancelike state, and every inner thought was frozen in place without a second of consideration. A sharp intake of breath filled his lungs, and one may have mistook his reaction as being stabbed if they only laid eyes upon his face. A few inches down, one would not view a knife, fortunately, they would instead spot the redhead who had approached during his soul searching moment. Aside from his ragged breath, he didn’t dare move a centimeter when her arms wrapped around his core. Gazing down at her, the sight of tears was enough to loosen the prior insurgents tense form, allowing his fists to unclench before freeing themselves of his pockets. Something he had done was too much, surely, or she wouldn’t be this distraught. With the shorter woman holding him and the wooden door frame against his back, Assad found his chances of fleeing were cut slim to nonexistent. Although, at his point, he had ruled out retreating anyhow; he had to see this through, one way or another.

“We... We can still get-.” He started to whisper in a low tone, consoling Bailey to the best of his ability until she began to pat away on his back. As she conveyed her frustration by bracing her arms against his torso, the medic subdued his hands by his sides, palms open in the form of surrender while she continued her frustrated assault and buried her face against his chest. Shortly after it ended, Farrid felt himself melting within her grasp, and his arms gradually moved to return the embrace.

Her tears seemingly burned into his chest, a jabbing reminder that he had possibly gone too deep with his words and actions. For the woman, his confession was no doubt something that seemed more rushed and abrupt beyond comprehension. As she spoke her next words, the prior insurgent allowed his limbs to surround Bailey in a gentle, deliberate manner. While he knew the person pressed against him was mentally more hardened than many of the women he had seen in his time, he still treated her like a delicate being, and his touch was as soft as he could manage. In more ways than one, she was correct. What gave him the right to do this? For all he could see, he had already caused the woman enough emotional stress, and for what reason? Selfish and delusional desires? His intentions were the opposite of this; he sought to gift her joy instead of anguish, yet here he was. It seemed like every move he made in he past few minutes was the wrong one, and eventually, he’d finally hit rock bottom at long last. The simple fact that she had strayed into his arms instead of turning tail had confused him enough, let alone how she demeaned herself. Farrid couldn’t let this continue; he had to correct it. He needed to understand the woman so he could help her, and in turn, himself.

“You are a good person, in my eyes at least. So what if you are bad? So am I... In this business, we all are bad in some ways. I know I’m terrible at this, but... Bailey, I’m struggling to find a way out of this. I need to know what you want.” He replied, still soft with his tone, but with more conviction behind his words.

The momentum of everything that led up to where they were now guided Farrid, and the confident man found himself at one of his most defenseless moments. One palm remained on his roommates upper back while the other hand found its way near her head. Initially, his body and mind had been arguing relentlessly, but now, everything was silent. Devoid of the conflict he had been enduring, the instinct to break off was overridden, and the ensemble of mixed signals were wiped away. Nudging his index finger beneath her chin, Farrid arched her head up with a gentle, caring motion. In the split second that his own dark eyes intertwined with her own intense gaze, he was struck by his inability to fathom playing his cards differently.

“For all my life, I’ve tried to help people. If you are damaged, then I’ll go through hell and high water to help you, because if I can fix you... maybe you can fix me too.” Farrid went silent after that. He spent too much time talking and planning already; there was nothing else that words could convey. With his thumb wiping a single tear away from her face, the medic used the same courage he used to speak, and redirected it into the ability to act. He leaned in.

ماذا الان؟

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: None.​

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
Bailey & Farrid's Apartment, Queens, New York
July 3rd, 1971 (Morning)

Interacted: Farrid ( Inb4Cloaker )
Mentioned: N/A

​

Farrid's words only serve to further the girl's fit of annoyance. The usual ways to go about saying the three magical words were hard to utter. She knew this, as she thought Farrid would too. At least, that was her initial yearnings, based on what she had seen in those before her. She was all curled up in Farrid's embrace, wanting to hear it from him, but to no avail. Bailey had her preconceived expectations, but only to be given more questions than answers. Why won't you say it, Farrid? She thought to herself, all the while trying her hardest not to let go of the man. Bailey has always been a stubborn one, and even more so in the face of adversity. Where she had blamed Farrid internally for failing to notice her own wants, the girl was only throwing herself further away from him. Love is war, as the old saying goes, much ironically true to the current predicament that she found herself in. They were tugging at each other's feelings, and unbeknownst to them, it had only served to stretch out before them as a no-mans-land. Every word were like an attack, prying for the other side to give. To Bailey, she simply wanted Farrid to say that he loves her. But it had turned out to be a game of mindless assaults. Yet, by dismantling one another's thoughts, the two were slowly shedding away the barrier that they had put up for as long as they have known each other. Eventually, when there are nothing else to break down for the two, what they have left would eventually speak for itself.

Bailey froze in wake of incessant barrage of fistful jabs at the man's back and chest. Farrid is right. What is it that she really want? It took her back to her childhood - growing up in a troublesome household. She did not know what love was, let alone expressing her own feelings to answer Farrid. She was no more than a teenager. Bailey wanted it that way. She had never grown out of her little world, where everything had remained dormant in the status quo. Deep down, she was scared - afraid of the possibilities of taking his heart and ending up not being able to cherish it fully. She never was an easy girl, and she never wanted to be. The world had taught the gunrunner to erect walls around her. Walls of which had spared her from emotional exploits. By tearing down this wall, here and now, she would risk losing a part of what made Bailey the person that she is. She did not want things to change between her and Farrid. Taking a deep breath, Bailey wanted to let everything go. There was no shame in being truthful to her ways. Before she could work up the courage to push Farrid away, she felt Farrid's fingers directing her visage towards him. Everything became clearer in the sunlight, as they locked gaze.

"You're... a fool... to think you can fix everything or anyone! ... I don't need no fixin'!... and I can't fix you! Don't you understand?!" Bailey cracked. Her hands retracted in a swift motion, as she withdrew her Walther from beneath her dress.

A reticent, but distinct sound of the hammer echoed throughout the room. The indiscriminate cold chrome muzzle nudged against Farrid's chest, as Bailey's index finger found its place within the trigger guard. Her tear-filled eyes glared at Farrid. The girl did not want to give an inch of herself just yet. She did not want him to try to make everything better, nor did she wanted to do the same. They were both broken figures, shaped over the years by this cruel world that they lived in. But one thing remained constant - the unerring heart. What she needed was in fact, something that they would have gone better with in the first place - themselves and nothing else. Bailey finally gave in to her complex, yet simple wish.

"Of those that walked into my life... They all want to fix something... I don't want none of that crap! All I-.... I need... Damn it all! I just wanted to hear it from you first, Farrid!!"

"Why won't you say it, Farrid! You imbecile... I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!!!" a loud thud could be heard, as the girl sprung forward.

The handgun hugged the floor lifelessly. Enclosed like a puzzle piece finally found its missing slot, the southern girl's face met Farrid's. Her eyes shut and her raised feet accompanied her lift to match the Syrian's height. Her lips bit his, with all those bitter words coming to a benevolent revelation. The girl's hands fell upon his chest, as the brief silence that followed were all but reconciled. Sometimes, the first step to admitting one's fault to fall in love was to simply go straight for it, Bailey thought. Neglecting everything else, Bailey gave it all in her first kiss. It was a foolish thing to try to win in the game of love. In the end, they all lose a bit of themselves in order to fill the void with their significant other. The gunrunner realized this, and have finally tore down her own barriers of doubts. Recovering from their kiss, Bailey took a breather, before lifting her voice.

"Y-You're paying!" she exclaimed, clearing the tears from her face, as she stomped out the apartment's door with haste.

With the door between them, Bailey fell across the otherside of the hallway. She leaned her head towards the wall before her, with her eyes down at the dull gray floor.

"A simple 'I love you' would've done it right by me, you dummy. But... you're still a lovable dummy." the southern girl stretched a teary smile beneath her concealed face.

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad​

Here lies Farrid Al-Assad. Prior Republic of Syria field medic and participant of the Six Day War. Cause of death: shot due to being romantically inept.
​

While it may have been hilarious to read aloud to himself as a joke, it was anything but humorous in a situation like this. Held at gunpoint, the medic and his delicate touch was met promptly by the barrel of a sidearm. He would’ve reflected on his life in that moment, but all he could think about was what the woman standing before him had said.

She wanted to hear it first.

It dawned on Assad that he spoke more than his fair share during their interaction, and in his inability to see past his own flaws, he had forgotten that the copious words he used could’ve been conveyed in the simplest phrase of solution. Alas, he had overlooked that soon to be fatal mistake, and his face reflected defeat. Still, a part of him reignited at the inclination of his roommates feelings, despite the fact that she held his life on the razors edge. He had been witness to anger before, and he was no stranger to looking down the barrel of a gun, but Bailey was unpredictable. She was not a soldier on the battlefield with one sole intention, and she was not his enemy. To make an effort to retaliate would betray every word that he had spoken, and he detested lying. Love was not a word he used in the literal sense often, in that his upbringing had seen multiple uses for the three sacred words that his roommate longed for. Long before he could even utter the English language beyond the words ‘fuck you,’ ‘thanks,’ and ‘I’m lost,’ Farrid had discovered that he required immense conviction to tell someone that he did indeed love them. In the face of being threatened, the revelation from the woman in front of him, and the knowledge that he may die, Farrid felt as though nothing he could say would correct the situation, or make it worse. He maintained eye contact with the tear stained woman, nodding with solemn acceptance. Farrid took a second to make peace with his gods before committing to his last breath. The medic would grant the gunrunners wish before his demise. With the stillness of a veteran and an unwavering attitude of defiance, Assad’s voice collided with his expectations of a muzzle flash.

“Fine, you better not miss! I lo-!” All at once, everything that was altered during the interaction between the two was brought full circle. Instead of being pierced by a gunshot, he was met by the gunrunners lips.

Farrid was still in a fight or flight mindset, and the sudden kiss caused him to jolt. Unlike before, he didn’t stay locked up in a startled position. The medic wasn’t dead, and Bailey was back against him again, so maybe he didn’t completely lose this battle. Bending his knees slightly, the medic dropped his stance lower to further assist her with the height difference. His hands quickly found their way back up to her tear stained face, and he once again cupped her cheeks as he submitted himself to such blissful passion. Relief flooded through his muscles as he found peace in all the tribulations he went through, and the self doubts he had established were struck down by a singular blow. For as long as her delicate form and soft lips graced him, Farrid kept his eyes shut as everything around him was drowned out; it was all made insignificant by the gunrunner. When the kiss broke, Assad took in a slow, soft breath while his eyes fluttered back open. He chuckled as she exclaimed that he was footing the bill while his head buzzed from the flood of emotions he had just entangled himself with. As she strolled away, leaving him pressed back against the doorframe, he took account of her red hair. With a grin cropping up on his face, Farrid realized that, while he had been kissed by fire numerous times in the past, he much preferred Bailey over legitimate flames. The woman and fire did have one thing in common regarding the prior insurgent; being that they both may end up killing him if he conducts himself like a fool in their presence.

With the encounter over, Assad began to straighten his disheveled attire before following after the gunrunner. Mid-step, the medic snatched up Baileys Walter, and found that it was a bit lighter than he would’ve expected from a loaded handgun. Farrid knew that he should’ve been disturbed or agitated at having his life toyed with, yet he couldn’t help but find it all thrilling. He wouldn’t dare admit it, of course, as he wasn’t about to tell the redhead that he had an unusual affinity for her frustrated side. Assessing his own thoughts, Farrid understood that he may be considered a madman for wanting someone who threatened to end his life. Thankfully, he was perfectly ok with that.

“She’s... definitely a keeper.” He commented sincerely to himself, amused at the dynamic they already established. Bailey may of ended up as the one he loved, he just hoped that she wasn’t the one that would kill him too.

Slipping out of the door to the apartment, Assad spotted the gunrunner who was sitting alongside the wall, and a twinge of guilt struck him once more. He had made her cry, and no doubt caused undo stress with his words. The Syrian needed to find a way to make it up to her, somehow. A nice lunch was a start, but maybe a ride away from the bustle of the city would be a nice gesture to go along with it? She had expressed her lack of interest in urban environments before, so offering to travel somewhere more rural for a bit may be a pleasant way for him to make up for the distress he caused. Stepping closer, he gingerly lowered the weapon down to the grey tiles next to the gunrunner; after checking to see that nobody was looking of course.

“That... was insane.” He factually stated, unable to stifle the grin on his face. “You know, you might be crazy, pulling a piece like that... But I still love you.” The three words that he failed to exclaim earlier rolled off his tongue, and despite the whole fiasco that just went down seconds ago, he still felt his face redden a bit. While the sentiment he verbally expressed sounded foreign to his ears, it felt natural in his mind. For Farrid, it seemed as though his heart had decided to stop disputing his interests, and let whatever may happen, happen.

“So uh... maybe a ride out near the country after we get our food? I know we are all dressed up but, I wouldn’t mind if you want to.” The medic had envisioned a formal lunch in the city for their date, but he was ready to sacrifice some gas and a neat outfit if it meant bringing out some happiness. Outstretching his arm, Assad offered his hand to the still sitting redhead.

السلام في النهاية

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: None.​

 

[RayPurchase]

Mitchell Van Gerwen

​

An odd sort of smile played across Mitch’s lips as the answer phone message played. The tone and inclination was damn near uncanny, that controlling attitude, mixed with pride and just a hint of disappointment, it could almost have been his father leaving a message. Of course, his father had stopped calling him about 5 years ago, after numerous such calls going straight to voicemail and then being deleted pretty rapidly. Mitch has supposed to go down the same old route, job in a big firm, the senior partner most likely being his old man’s golf buddy. It hadn’t ended up that way however, a string of bad decisions on Mitch’s part had made sure of that, the folly of youth and all that. But he had landed on his feet, it may not be honourable work in the eyes of his father, but it was no less honourable than want went on in the boardrooms of the top firms, if anything the people who he worked for were just a lot more honest about their intentions.

He waves away her apology about her father with his hand.

“No sense in children apologising about their parents. We could be here until tomorrow if we played that game,”

Throwing his jacket over one shoulder, he gently grasps her offered hand, small, soft and warm between his own. The afternoon sunlight filters down onto the streets, the skyscrapers catching and reflecting sunlight, as well as throwing their own shadows down onto the bustling streets. Compared to the leafy suburbs that the Porters called home, it was positively chaotic, a great swell of people, of all different creeds and countries. The constant chatter of languages and accents filling the hair like a constant background hum, the beating heart of the city.

“I completely agree. So quiet I could hear my own thoughts last night, which is something that I always try to avoid. I mean why would anyone want to leave all this, it’s all so… alive. And I reckon you’d struggle to find a decent Italian out there.”

He raises and sweeps his free arm, encompassing the great chatter and mass of people. A silly grin appears on his face as they encounter the Italian, not exactly what he was expecting to be honest, less table service, chequered cloths and candles, and a lot more relaxed. He glanced up at the sun.

“Seeing as how we’ve got ourselves a nice day, I think we should make use of these,”

He slides a chair out from underneath one of the tables, offering it to her.

“So how did you find this place then. By luck, or is the owner some distant relation? You’re lucky, Dutch cuisine hasn’t really taken off in the same way here,”

(Interaction: Bellz Roxie)

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
Bailey & Farrid's Apartment, Queens, New York
July 3rd, 1971 (Morning)

Interacted: Farrid ( Inb4Cloaker )
Mentioned: Dante ( shadowz1995 )

​

Bailey was awestruck by Farrid's three magical word. However long due it was, she was still glad to hear it. Better late than never, she said to herself. The girl looked up at Farrid, of whom was as good with his words as he was with his ability to decipher her wants - little to none. A complex creature of self-absorbed habits, Bailey have yet to let their current circumstances to override what they have established thus far. Love may be love, but the girl did not want what they had shared in the past to be simply a dream. It may be just the heat of the moment, but in it, the duo have given a part of themselves in exchange for the path they had chosen for themselves. Was it reckless? Was it simply enough to go with the flow? Bailey scoffed at such thoughts, taking in account of her past and Farrid's retrospective demeanor since they met. Right here and right now, everything else doesn't matter. Farrid had voiced his concerns that he wanted it to work. Who would dare deprive a soldier of his courage, and a gunrunner of her newfound purpose when there's plenty to go around? They could take on the whole world. Bailey, as incompetent as she claimed to be in the field of love, had already given her first kiss. Despite the auditor's general ability to have everything by the numbers, she could not account for most of it. This feeling, this rush of adrenaline-like vigor, and the things that followed, lingered upon the anxious girl's thoughts.

Despite Farrid's lack of tactfulness with his choice of words, Bailey did not mind it in the slightest. Of all the men she had met in the past, Farrid was one of the few to be straight-forward. It was ironic for the gunrunner to look for a pure form of love, among the decadent evils that she had manifested within herself over the years in New York. Fear of admission, accompanied by her happy-go-lucky intrigues, the girl did not voice her words of endearment for the man just yet. It did not suit her, nor will it conform to the thing that made her who she was. When given the offers of his sincere hands, Bailey simply reached out hers, albeit differing from the usual conformity of acceptance. Instead, she had slapped it off, giving the man a low-five, rather than taking his hands.

"I can get up on my own, you know..." Bailey said, as she got up. There was a certain fire in her that wanted to prove that she would neither be a meek feminine figure nor would she conform to being the lesser one in what the two have established thus far.

To her, she wanted to carry on as herself. Take it or leave it, as she coined it, was her unspoken policy. While acting on impulse, it was an act of self-preservation. Like a pine tree amidst the brewing storm, she would bend, but not fall. Bailey did not want Farrid and her to simply chase their instinctive desires, and be consumed by disdains afterwards. She had her affections for Farrid as he was. Bailey had said it before that she did not want the two to be fixed. She viewed herself and Farrid as a different breed, shying away from the conformities of the commonly depicted types of romance. She was and is always ready to accept Farrid as he was. There was nothing wrong with admiring a broken vessel. As selfish as it was, it was only natural for the girl to put up an oxymoron form of acceptance towards what they were building. Like him, Bailey wanted it to work as well, she finally admitted to herself. Slowly, but assuredly, she was putting up a princess-like attitude towards the man. While not self-indulgent, it was sufficient for her to cope with what path they would traverse in the future. Discerning the defects of their awkward predicament, Bailey would not hesitate to give it her all to secure it all. Was it right to disregard her ways for a simply wanting to be with Farrid? She did not care. When she held the man at gunpoint, she did not have the courage to even have it loaded. It was there, that she realized that the feeling was mutual.

"... That would be nice. But you still need to get your letter mailed. Besides, I still need to stop by the Happy Phantom's shop to pick up the Chinese peonies that he promised." she continued, before getting closer to fix his collars.

Bailey had expressed her admiration for the man via her little acts. She was still trying to cope with it all, and have yet to utter her apologies for pulling her Walther on the man. But judging from the man's nonchalant attitude, she did not feel the need to. She found it be a fallible fault that she loved about him. He was always moving forward slowly but assuredly so, and that was more than enough for the girl. Perhaps she had poor tastes. But it made her happy to be with someone with poor tastes as well. Bailey did not viewed the man as some sort of an underling, nor did she felt that it was right to do so, despite her usual control-freak tendencies. This was, perhaps one of the few times the Texan had managed to break free of her workaholic habits.

"Com' on! I am starving. First one to your truck won't have to pay!" she turned away towards the stairs with haste, prompting the man to follow.

The southern sweetheart, donned in black and white, with her delicate fingers upon her tingling lips, was smiling as she goes.

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad​

The slap on his offered hand caused Farrid to roll his eyes playfully, stepping back to give Bailey space as she lifted herself off the ground. He had difficulty reading her at times, yet he got the feeling that she met no obstacles when it came to decrypting himself. How could he interpret someone who would display such intense emotions at a few words, yet stand tall when confronted by other gestures of similar types? He would have to push himself past the fact that this was no ordinary lady, waiting for someone to take the lead and carry her through the trials of life. Like himself, she had her own scars that abruptly pulled her away from the normal expectations of society. Unlike Farrid, she didn't try to play the game of romance in the manner that was depicted by normal culture. Her lack of comforting words did not deter his interest, as he had gotten used to her withholding mannerisms. This new game he had taken part in did not mean that what they already had would need changing; if anything, it meant stronger bonds would begin to form. He appreciated her approach when it came to whole situation, and her words reassured him. He wouldn’t have to conform to the generic unspoken rules of love, and in turn, he wouldn’t have to change himself to make this work, he just had to carry on as always, and it would work out in time. He stood on a shaky foundation, and he couldn’t expect to figure everything out within the first few minutes.

Farrid’s face cringed ever so slightly, recalling the needless words he tried to fumble out earlier. The prompt thrust of a pistol barrel, as well as having his hand batted away was enough to enlighten him on a piece of keen information. Sappy words and the traditional romance he read about in novels would have no place in this relationship. The prior insurgent wasn’t one for such verbal tangos anyways, hence why his words were poorly chosen, and almost resulted in him taking a piece of lead. He was more than comfortable with letting everything flow naturally.

Yeah, he thought, that shit can stay in the books.

“Alright, another time then. I’ll carry the letter on over later this evening, don’t wanna get caught waiting until Monday.” Farrid replied, holding himself steady while she busied herself with his collars.

Glancing over his shoulder at the door behind him, Farrid tapped his pocket to make sure his keys were in place and the lock was secured. Thankfully, he managed to prepare himself to the fullest before departing the apartment, despite the haste. When his eyes scanned back over Bailey, Farrid sensed that her naturally controlling mannerisms were going to factor into mix strongly. His first impressions were of uncertainty, as the nature of his actions were often against being steered by others. After the interaction, however, Farrid found that it may not be as much of an issue as he initially made it out to be. The medic was confident that Bailey wouldn’t order him to do unreasonable things, nor deprive him of a voice that was mandatory for building a healthy bond. Simultaneously, Farrid found that he may not mind softening his ‘death before submission’ mentality when it came to his dealings with the woman. It would take time, no doubt, but he was willing to make the sacrifices. Before he could say another word, she had began to swiftly retreat away from where he stood.

“What? You cheater, I’ll remember this!” he jokingly called out after her before pursuing, albeit at a relatively slower pace. The medic did surge forward after her for a brief moment, but her abrupt head-start and his own desire to make good on his promise of buying lunch prevented him from passing her during the chase. When the two breached the door and entered the into sunlight outside, Farrid covered his eyes with his arm and squinted, doing his best to shy away from the bright rays.

“Dammit, I swear, you and the sun are in cahoots... I demand a rematch by dueling, fifteen paces.” The prior insurgent, aware that she was armed and he wasn’t, needlessly clarified while holding up an index finger. “Actually, nevermind. You won this time, 'ahmar.”

Assad put heavy emphasis on the word he referred to her as, embellishing it by putting more flair into his accent than usual. He had referred to Bailey it a few sparse times in the past, mostly because it quite literally translated to red, but also because it gave him an excuse to tease her with the unknown language by withholding its meaning from the gunrunner. Slowing his pace to a walk, Farrid accepted the loss as he neared the vehicle, the bustle of traffic and sounds of the busy city flooding his ears while his eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness. Thankfully, he left his sunglasses inside his truck. Somewhere.

“First, where are we going? I’m buying, so you pick. Second, I would like some more Hatton rounds- and yes, they are absolutely necessary. Plus, they are a blast to use.” He inquired the first question nonchalantly, seemingly having no real preference for where they dined. His tone changed when he mentioned the ammunition, however, taking on that of what would be normal until he commented on how they were fun to use. His not so clever pun was clearly intended, and while he was aware that it was very weak, he was still proud of it. Grinning at the gunrunner, he added,

“I’ll pay for those too, if you make me. I should get a comedians discount though, right?” Twelve gauge ammunition had a wide variety of different types. A few of the variants were unfortunate enough to be divided into the categories of rare, useless, and illegal. Hatton shells drew the short end of the stick, in that they were a combination of all three, and with good reason. To make matters worse, they were also a favorite of the medic, who had seen their use in a multitude of situations during his experience in combat. This meant that, even though he utilized other types in their absence, or when it would be more practical to use something with a bit more range, Farrid was shamelessly stubborn when it came to advocating for the rare ammunition.

Jangling his keys, the Syrian swung around to the drivers side, unlocked the door, and stepped in before twisting the latch on the passengers-side door open from the inside. The prior insurgent then commenced the search for his darkened aviators while he waited for the gunrunner to board.

اعطني ذخيرة

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: None.​

 

[Melanin-Gxdess]

Aliana Cartwright
Leo Sullivan
Ali listened and watched on as father and son interacted with one another. It was nice to see Leo have a better relationship with his father; it being something she didn't get to have. Actually seeing how happy Leo was to be able to talk to him in person warmed her heart and pissed her off at the same time. He should be doing this in the comfort of their own home and not in prison across a cold table. The stoic look on her face was about to turn sour before she heard Conor's comment. She raised a brow at him, while Leo covered his mouth with his hand to contain his laughter. "Aw geez dad, you've really done it." Leo was familiar with this new look of hers seeing as he receives it at least a dozen times a day. Before she could give her own snarky remark, he cleaned up his act and she nodded her head. "Nice clean up." She told him, the stoic look growing back onto her face while she let the two boys talk. Leo groaned and gestured to his mother before frowning. "Mah says the same thing. You're supposed to back me up." There was the slightest tilt of Aliana's head as she looked at Leo. Sometimes he threw playful temper tantrums and other times they were serious. She missed Conor's scene of closing his eyes as she was staring at Leo trying to make sure he didn't blow up over being chastised. When it was apparent this was one of the playful ones she relaxed a little.

Turning her own attention back to Conor, she felt a slight sting in her chest. He had repeated her words and it was then that she realized how harsh it sounded. Even if she was here as a favor to two other people, she didn't need to let it be known. Just because the two of them were no longer together and she had her own problems with him, it didn't mean she didn't care about him. When he's eventually released from prison, they still need to have a relationship for their son and she was more than aware of that. The death of a marriage didn't mean the death of a friendship. She wanted to say something to make up for it, but Leo chimed in and Conor responded. Geez, how many times was she going to subliminally make horrible comments? She was starting to feel crappy about it, a lump forming in her throat as if she was about to cry. The two of them locking eyes and his response wasn't helping her fight back tears. Her eyes were about to start welling up as her breathing quickened. When Conor suggested Leo get juice, this gave Ali a second to actually breathe and wipe her eyes, getting herself under control. She was no doubt about to lose her shit, but knew she had to keep it together. Leo, however, brought attention to her distressed mood. "You okay mom? I'll bring you back some juice!" He said, sliding out of his seat walking towards the juice. "Thanks, love." She muttered before sniffling and looking at Conor.

She took in his words about Peter and made sure to remember everything he told her to help Sinead. What Conor was telling her was all new information to her, not knowing any of it. If she were being honest, she was closer to Sinead than she was Peter which meant she wouldn't be around him as much. Either way, all of this was something that could help. But as he continued to explain the life inside of this place she momentarily forgot all about everyone else's issues and worried about Conor. She hadn't visited him and been that peace he needed in his life and instead went and got separated. Granted, there was a lot more to the reasoning behind their separation, but she still could have at least checked on him. For a moment, she zoned out trying to keep herself from crying again until he leaned across the table, asking about Sinead and Peter. There was a slight hesitation, considering she didn't want him to worry too much but she decided to tell him very little. "They're just going through a spat, that's all. Arguments here and there, but nothing too serious. She's just concerned she's missing something; you know how she is." She tried to play it off a bit before hesitating with her next words.

"You've told me all of this. Let's take a pause.. How... How- how are you then? I mean..." She trailed off, not knowing exactly how to talk to him anymore. It was strange that years ago she would be able to talk to him about any and everything and now it was damn near impossible.




[/imagefloat]​

Conor ( Misty Gray )

 

[Misty Gray]

Conor Sullivan​

Conor could see in Aliana's eyes that she was struggling to hold back her tears. Despite everything, he still found himself fighting off the urge to console his wife. He expected if he reached out to hold her hand, like his gut was telling him to, she would reject him and put him in his place. He reluctantly kept his hands to himself so as not to sour his wife's mood or make her feel uncomfortable. When Leo asked Aliana how she was, Conor didn't take his eyes off of his wife, trying to read her. When the child walked off, Conor tilted his head slightly and sent Aliana a soft smile, hoping to somehow pull her back out of her sadness. He wished he could hold her close and reassure her that he'd make everything better. He wished he could go back to the days when they were happy together in their perfect little family home. Back before he fucked everything up.

Conor listened as Aliana explained about Sinead and Peter arguing but it not being serious. "Yeah, I know how Tink is for worrying. I just don't want her to hit rock bottom again." Having been around during two of his sister's breakdowns, when their father had been killed and the first time Peter went to jail, Conor hated to think of it happening again, especially if he couldn't be there for her. He didn't want Sinead or Peter to break down so severely. "Please... Keep an eye on them, would you?" he seriously asked of his wife.

Aliana then suggested they paused from the topic of the Callahans, causing Conor to slowly nod his head. She asked how he was and he couldn't help but pick up on the awkwardness as she did. "Me? Yeah. I'm just great," he drily remarked. He then let out a deep sigh before shaking his head. "This place is suffocating me. When people piss me off, there's no escape. It's so hard trying to keep my nose clean in here. But I am managing it," he said, adding the last sentence to reassure her. "I've got the shrink and the lawyer working on getting me out of here, so I'm doing everything I can to make sure they're not wasting their time." He sat back and smirked to himself. "I've been spending a lot of time in the gym. There's this weedy little guy who doesn't have a clue what he's doing in there, so I've agreed to help him train. I should bill him for my time when I get out of this shithole," he remarked.

Conor's smile then dropped as he studied his wife's face. He hadn't seen her in years and now he was reminded of just how much he missed looking into her eyes. Even though she was angry with him and he was frustrated with her, the fact he loved her still slapped him hard across the face. He briefly glanced to the table before meeting her eyes again. "How are you, Ali? Has much changed for you since we've been... since I ended up in here?" he asked. Whilst he wanted her to be happy he really hoped she wasn't sharing her time with another man. He kept hoping they still had chance to sort their marriage out once he was released from prison. He wasn't the only person he hoped Aliana would let back into her life. "Your old man's still in here, y'know," he delicately began as he thought of Allen. "He's a good bloke... always off reading books. I bet he'd love to talk to you about them..." he suggested.


Melanin-Gxdess (Aliana, Leo)

 

[Bellz]

Lucy Porter
Thomas Porter​

Lucy wasn't sure what to think of the Detectives warning or rather threat. But she didn't say another word to the man as she just wanted him to lead her to poor little Olivia so she could get the kids out of this awful place. As they walked down the hall, she could hear someone shouting, this caused the woman's heart to accelerate a bit and she looked down at her feet. She really hated this place.

Thomas smiled as Olivia seemed to take the bait to play I Spy. He wondered if she would find what he had his eyes on, or had his eyes on, as he was now trying to look around the room with her. Just as his mother entered the room, Olive didn't guess the first one right but that didn't stop her from choosing again.

When she finally did get it right Thomas clapped his hands together, "That's it!" He said excitedly, "I fooled ya good huh?" He asked just as Lucy walked towards them, holding her hands out to the pair. "What were you two playing?" She asked softly. Thomas got out of his chair, helping his cousin before taking his mothers hand. "Just some I Spy to cure the boredom." He told her. The three were quick to leave the station, Lucy didn't want to waste any time getting over to the city apartment, knowing that's where James would be.

***​

Pesky inner city traffic was always the culprit for a woman who tried to be on time as much as possible. They arrived another 25 minutes later and Lucy unlocked the door, letting the kids in before stepping inside herself. "James?" Lucy called out lightly, closing the door behind her and locking it. As calm as she wanted to be about Arlene, her own composure was starting to dwindle.

Seeing the two kids staring at her, the woman sucked in a deep breath. "Thomas. Why don't you take Olivia to your room so you can play with all those toys you never use anymore?" Thomas gasped, clearly appalled by the accusation.

"Don't listen to her Olivia, I always play with all my toys...just in case she tries to give any of them to you." With that, the boy took his cousin's hand and led her towards his room. Lucy walked further into the apartment and headed towards her husbands office.

​

with: James/ Olivia Misty Gray

 

[Misty Gray]

James Porter
Olivia Sullivan​

It wasn't long after Dante had left to carry out his job that Warren also vacated the apartment so he could guard the secondary Porter residence from outside. He'd been encouraged to do so by both James and the enticing warm sunshine. The boss remained in his office for the rest of the afternoon, making calls and checking through some of the financial reports that had been compiled for him by Bailey. After a while, he decided to give himself a break and wasted no time in lighting up a smoke, pacing around the lounge as he took long drags of cigarette. He could get away with indulging in his second favourite habit when Lucy wasn't there to tell him off for doing so, as she would have if he was smoking inside the mansion.

James stopped by the large window, looking out to the tall buildings in the distance. It was all a far cry from the gloomy, cold apartment he'd had to survive in as a child. He believed he'd worked hard to get where he was and no matter how comfortable he had eventually become with his wealth, he knew not to take it for granted. His thoughts threatened to take over but he was soon dragged back to the present as he looked down to the street below and saw Lucy outside, making her way towards the apartment building. He wasn't oblivious to the fact Thomas and Olivia were also with her. At least, he assumed the small, blonde child was Arlene's daughter. Unless Lucy had made the crazy decision to go out and adopt another child to surprise him with.

James rushed back into his office and stubbed out the cigarette, though that was mostly just so he wouldn't be smoking around the kids. He heard Lucy call out his name and could then just about make out her words instructing Thomas to take Olivia to go play with the toys. James reached for the unopened box of chocolates that was sitting on his desk and rush out to catch up with the kids. One of his Manhattan neighbours had gifted the chocolates to him for his birthday, but he'd already had enough sweets given to him the previous night. "Share these while you play," he suggested. He handed the box to Thomas, lightly patting his son on the back. He could see the troubled look in Olivia's eyes and it was easy to see she wasn't her usual confident self. He simply sent the girl a reassuring smile before letting the children walk off.

Having seen the way Lucy had been heading towards his office, he knew her visit wasn't just a social call. "You okay, love?" he asked her. He placed his arm around her waist and lead her to his office so they could talk in private. Instead of sitting at his desk, they both sat down of the sofa at the opposite side of the room. "Judging by the look on your face, Arlene hasn't just roped us into babysitting for the weekend, has she? What is it?" he asked. Whilst he'd grown to expect anything, it didn't mean he wanted there to be some kind of drama going on.

Bellz (Lucy)

 

[Misty Gray]

Maddox Parker​

Maddox listened as Syd answered his question about the medication. It seemed like his client was adjusting well to the Doxepin and it certainly sounded like it was benefiting him with regards to getting more sleep. He briefly smiled when Syd confirmed he was pleased with the new drug he'd shifted to. As he took in the side effects as they were listed, Maddox lightly nodded along. "Well, those should settle down and it certainly shouldn't pose any significant impairments to your day-to-day tasks. If the side effects don't settle or they do worsen in the next week or two, you need to tell me so I can consider adjustments." Maddox had seen patients become too reliant on the drugs to a point where it became extremely difficult to lower the dosage without causing more issues. On the other end of the scale, the effects of suddenly reducing or taking away the medication completely could have serious implications. Given Syd's past depression and suicide attempts, Maddox knew making hasty changes to his medication could have severe consequences. "I'm happy to keep things as they are for now and we'll monitor how the side effects settle down." He raised a curious eyebrow when Syd grinned. With the man's mentions of alcohol, Maddox lightly shook his head and gave a smile of his own. "Please, do acknowledge your limits. Too much alcohol on any day can come with its problems, but drinking too much while taking the Doxepin isn't something I would recommend."

Knowing there was still a little more time, Maddox didn't rush to end the conversation and decided to address some other matters that were important to Syd's recovery. "How about your support network?" he asked, sitting back in his seat a little more casually. "Parties aside, do you get to see much of your family?" he enquired. He took a sip of water before going on to elaborate. "I understand you've got your parents, cousins and other family members around. Can you identify any of your family or friends who understand what you're going through? Where possible, it's important to establish if you have anyone who you know you can turn to or call upon should the need arise before you're able to get here to see me."

Pyroclast (Syd)

 

[Pilgrim59]

Bailey Baker
Queens, New York
July 3rd, 1971 (Midday)

Interacted: Farrid ( Inb4Cloaker )
Mentioned: N/A

​

Bailey was quite elated, having heard Farrid's offer to take out to the countryside. All these times, the man had actually taken note of what she liked. On the other hand, the girl had only taken common interests that they had shared in the pasts - idle jokes, his straightforward personality, and their disdains for getting shot at. Other than his dedication within the syndicate's circle, and his poor attempts at puns, there was a certain mysterious aura that surrounded the man. Where others would beat themselves up over prying someone else's shrouded and often intentionally concealed enigma, Bailey had developed a certain liking to it instead. Finding the beauty of others has always been the norms, but the young gunrunner had instead found comfort in cherishing his faults. There was a distinct allure to piecing together the broken pieces of themselves and morphing it into a hideous creation. The unlikely duo would sooner or later wind up building a toxic relationship, of which Bailey was quite excited to see it unfold. After all, the girl herself was a twisted detractor of the world's troubles. Bailey was not lying when she professed about her defective self before Farrid. Only time would tell if the man would be willing to endure, let alone accept the redhead for her darkness. Hell, she already did when she fixed his collar.

Before long, she and Farrid have found themselves at the latter's vehicle, as endless crowds made their way past the two. Upon Farrid's remarks about her and the sun, Bailey could not help but chuckle a little bit on the inside. She have had a long-standing grudge against mornings ever since coming to the Big Apple, accompanied by her tendencies of staying indoors for most, it was only natural for a man-made vampire like herself to only view Helios with great contempt.

"I have a certain place in mind... " Bailey replied, as she paused briefly at Farrid's 'blast'.

She was used to it by now, uttering little signs of a response - only a raised brow at the man.

"I ought ta charge ya double just for that pun... your slugs ain't easy to acquire these days, ya know?" she continued, smiling slightly.

Everything had seemed to settle back to the old still waters of yesterday morning. The transition from whence they were throwing their fit with words were all but natural. Improbable, but Farrid and Bailey had managed to calm the storms that stirred their hearts a few minutes ago. She reflected on these thoughts. Should she be happy that everything went smoothly? Or should she put up some resistance as to suspense to such radical changes? Bailey discerned these questions, as she eyed the man for a while. As she made her stance before, this was more or less an unconventional concession of feelings, a mutual understanding between the two - or at least that was what she worded it within her head. From his foreign eyes and hair, to his unbridled ambushes with puns, Bailey was far from being dissuaded from her own feelings. It did not matter, she was content with these winds of change.

"Long as it is on the clock, I can't no good of a reason to extort ya. Well maybe a little... Just don't turn this city into a warzone." Bailey said, with a smug grin on her face.

The roaring ignition, accompanied by the vibrating sensation of the startup engine, quickly put the gunrunner at ease. While Bailey was no stranger to be driven around by Farrid many times before, there was a genuine feeling of euphoria whenever she stepped inside Farrid's truck. It brought her back to the time when she had always been driving her brother around the farm. Time and time again, there was nothing more relaxing than hearing the hums of the engine with robust motors - much more preferable to that of a fancy sedan. As if intertwined by fate, she finds herself a victim of nostalgic sensations. With Farrid by her side, it was like sipping a neat shot of Jack after a long day.

Bailey had been caught up by her office work that she had almost forgotten about the place she wanted to go to for lunch with Farrid. Somewhere in Manhattan, as far as she could recollect. She tends to frequent the place every now and then, long before her time as the mob's auditor. Everything about the place was well-endowed with attractions to the weary and melancholic. Time would pause whenever she came, and everything else unwinded in its course. There was no better locale than where they were going. But for the now, Bailey would have to deal with the drive's cognitive exchanges of words between her and Farrid. Grasping tightly upon her frilled dress, the redhead could not contain her flushed cheeks and occasional peek at the driver. It was one thing to accept the changes, but another when being immediately confined within a wheeled box, right next to the one who made a whirlwind of her racing heart.

"Just to be candid... I'm not sleeping with you. I mean... Yet. I mean... I would never. No... It's just...Take a left here... Shut up!" Bailey broke the silence, before dwelling in it again. She felt awfully awkward, having spouted those words. There was no clearer way to go about it than with her own thoughts, but the Texan had managed to mess it up.

Where she wanted to draw the line, she did not want to push the man away. Bailey let out a guilty exchange of inhales and exhales. She had almost forgotten how nice it was to breathe. The girl threw a few awkward glances at Farrid, as she tugged upon his sleeves.

"I really d'nno how to process all this... You can still pull the brakes, ya know?" Bailey said softly, as she bit upon her lips tightly, reverting back to her uncertainties and doubts.

 

[Inb4Cloaker]

Farrid Al-Assad​

Farrid prepared himself for the gunrunners retort at his pun, and he jokingly rolled his eyes when she mentioned raising the prices on him.

“Pfft, ok, there’s no need to...” Assad stuttered mid sentence, contemplating the punishment should he say ‘blow up the prices.’ While another joke would be appealing to the driver, he sensed that it wouldn’t have the same effect on Bailey.

“...No need to raise the cost. I know they are difficult to obtain but, please?” He requested, unable to find another reason for her to look for his favored item aside from being polite and offering more currency. Farrid was glad to hear that she would provide him with the ammunition in the near future, and his broad smile reflected this.

Within seconds of Bailey boarding alongside him, Farrid grunted triumphantly before procuring his sunglasses from a discreet corner of the dash. One swift flick later, the frame had found its way into the bridge of his nose. Behind darkened lenses, the Syrian driver found a noticeably higher level of protection from the bright world, along with comfort in knowing that of all things, his eyes could not be used as a gateway into his soul. The medic strapped himself down safely before inserting his key into the ignition and turning it, the steady hum of his truck intermingling with the various other vehicles that flew by. Before a minute could pass, the prior insurgent had swiftly maneuvered his bulky truck through the parking lot and into the fray of speeding vehicles. Assad went unaware of the location that Bailey picked out, due to his own fault with his previous pun, but settled on using the gunrunners instructions to seek out their destination.

Retaining a calm and collected attitude was daunting when he first began to navigate the streets, as the silence between them amplified the thoughts of what had just occurred between them. The rush of emotions and the sudden outbursts that came from both parties in the apartment were refusing to be swept under the rug, but Assad didn’t necessarily see that as a negative factor. Instead, he used the ride to lunch as a time to reflect on everything that had occurred, as well as gain a deeper insight to his feelings. Externally, the driver had lost his reddened pigment as the embarrassment fled from his cheeks, however, the steady feeling of relief remained strong in his heart. Unfortunately, uncertainties and doubts still thrusted at his success, threatening to bring him down should they find a chink in the armor of his confidence that the gunrunner shared mutual feelings. Despite her lack of returning the same verbal sentiments that he offered, Farrid rationalized that it was only natural. With him being the instigator of the heartfelt moment, it was easy for him to find comfort in that he had months to confirm his feelings and establish the base of courage that he would use to bring them into the open. On the other hand, with the gunrunner being the abrupt recipient, Farrid feared that he had moved things much quicker than he anticipated, and she was still in a state of shock. What would he do if she discovered that she had only been swept up in the moment, and that her show of affection for the medic was dished out only because she didn’t truly understand herself?

Delving deeper into his thoughts, Farrid found himself grasping out for more assurance. From the way the woman beside him spoke, all the way to how she carried herself, Assad had discovered that he had become more and more smitten with her as the year passed. Unsurprisingly, his refusal to acknowledge his feelings was much sturdier in the first days, where such thoughts began to grace his everyday life, and the reasoning he used to suppress his feelings, while possibly flawed, was unrelenting. He viewed himself as an undeserving person, and that the crimes of the paths he followed throughout his life would deter any bonds with people that didn’t pertain to war-like brotherhoods. Yet, here he was, and there she was. Despite his clear lack of knowledge when matters such as love arose, and his extensively foreign behaviors that others would typically deem unusual, the redhead was willing to hear his words. The auditors attitude towards him and her subtle mystery had struck a weakened portion of his heart that wanted to reach out for more than the life he was born into, and pierced the wall of fanatic, self oriented goals he established over his campaigns. He was strangely grateful for it, as the woman was akin to a lighthouse in the fog of his mind; all he had to do was follow it without losing sight of himself.

Darkened, scratched lenses may have held steady in the direction of the road, but his wandering eyes betrayed the glasses with two curious side glances at his passenger. His thoughts of the potential results from their interaction had drawn his attention her her initially, however the nervous grip on her dress piqued his own anxiety and curiosity. Before he could ask what was on her mind, the gunrunner revealed her concern. Assad’s head swiveled to face the woman, removing his view from the road for more than an acceptable second or two. Thankfully, he was at a stoplight, so his act of redirecting attention did not heed any consequences. Unable to withhold a knowing smirk, Farrid was able to quickly decipher what the woman was trying to articulate.

“Oh-ho! So that’s one of the first topics on your mind, hm? Well, I certainly hope not yet, I don’t think this truck has enough room for that.” Assad’s cheeks brightened at the mention, regardless of the well-humored laugh that followed. He was clearly teasing the woman light heartedly, but he quickly clarified himself to dissuade her flustered attitude.

“I understand, of course we won’t anytime soon, or ever, if you prefer. I’m not in this just for that.” Farrid stated simply, retaining any further words about the topic. He was quick to learn that simple responses suited the Bailey well.

Assad would’ve lied to himself if he said that the thoughts of engaging the woman with such an intimate part of nature never crossed his mind, but he also viewed such an act to be an extremely loving moment, only to be shared when a couple was thoroughly devoted to expressing the type of passionate affection that couldn’t be put into words. The medic acknowledged her reluctance, and had some of his own regarding sharing beds so soon. If he were to judge from the scene at the apartment involving the handgun and tears, Farrid would have to assume that it would be a while before they reached that point; if they ever did. His reluctance also stemmed strongly from his own physical form. Exhaling a soft sigh, the medic tried not to dwell on the damaged skin underneath his clothing, attributing to a majority of his doubt in inquiring about such an intriguing encounter in the future. Only the blind would find enjoyment in tangling with someone who was as physically torn by warfare as he was, the Syrian resolved.

With the destination a short distance away, Farrid listened intently to his passengers meaningful statement. He sensed the doubt in her voice, and the gunrunners consistent inquiry on him backing out of their arrangement told him that she may still have mixed feelings. Careful not to direct his attention away from the road he was traveling on, Assad waited until he was able to pull into the next stoplight while she tugged on his sleeve. Removing his right arm from the wheel, the medic pushed his glasses up to his forehead before letting his arm rest comfortably on the middle compartment. Allowing the woman to do as she pleased with his idle arm to ease her worry, he leaned closer to her while matching the soothing whisper.

“Bailey, if I wanted to back out, I wouldn’t have risked eating lead to tell you that I love you. There’s nothing you can do short of shooting me that’ll change my mind, and even then, that’s debatable.” Farrid conveyed his message smoothly, without the fancy words and elaborate analogies he used before.

It occurred to Farrid that this was an opportunity to answer the own question that he had, as well as alleviate the redheads doubt. Checking to ensure that the light was not yet green, Farrid returned the same question that Bailey had issued out to him.

“But what about you? Do you want to pull the breaks?”

ماذا تريد؟

Mentions: Bailey Baker Pilgrim59
Interactions: None.​

 

[Misty Gray]

Ethan Turner
~ June, 1957 ~​

The light piano music played out in the restaurant, providing a delicate melody as a backing to the voices that softly filled the large room. There were dozens of other diners around the room, presumably sharing romantic exchanges or simple friendly chatter. Ethan wasn't interested enough to look around the room for any confirmation as the only person who mattered to him was seated directly opposite him at their private table for two in an even quieter corner of the restaurant. He reached his hand across the table, carefully avoiding the silver candlestick that held the lit red candle to the side of the dining surface. His fingers soon found the petite hand of the woman seated before him. His attention was already fixed to her face, where he could never tired of her smooth, pale skin, nor her gentle green eyes. A soft smile seemed permanently planted on his face as he admired his beautiful raven-haired wife. She soon blushed and lightly slapped his hand in a playful manner, her expression urging him to spill what he was thinking.

Ethan softly circled the palm of her hand with the tips of of index and middle fingers before casually shrugging his shoulders. "What?" he asked, feigning offence. "I'm just admiring the background music..." he fibbed.

"Ethan Turner, that's a lie and you know it!" the woman's playful, yet soothing voice scolded him. "Unless the classical music is starting to grow on you, I know for a fact you'd much rather be listening to your rock and roll music."

"Maybe it's growing on me, Rose. Maybe I'm a changed man," he suggested. "No. I am a changed man, thanks to you. You saved me. You reminded me of how to be human again and showed me it was possible for a man like me to love another person." Although the temptation still lingered in the back of his mind, Ethan was always pulled away from his blood thirst by the reminder of Rose and to keep their love pure. "All of the violence and the aggression... that's not me anymore. All I want is to be with you and to start our little family," he told her. "I will give up all of the other shit too. The fraud, the dealing... I can just focus on my shop." He firmly nodded his head. "I'll stop taking all of those risks. I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

"I love you, Ethan. You're not the monster you keep claiming to be. All you needed was someone to treat you like the amazing man you are," she reassured him. A crooked smile then flashed onto her face. Despite her husband's persistence in calling her an angel, they both knew she wasn't quite so perfect and precious. She'd committed her fair share of thefts and fraud. It was how they had met, after all. She'd just never stepped into the territory of murdering or physically harming others. Something her presence in Ethan's life had effectively torn him away from. "Steady on, though. You're allowed a little crime in your life. We've got to keep affording to have ourselves these fancy dinners, right?" she knowingly suggested. "I'm not afraid of the Sullivans. They don't own this city and nobody put them in charge of it. They'll fall back down to Earth soon, when reality hits them."

Ethan grinned at his wife's words. She may not be saintly, but she was an angel to him. "You're right. You're always right..." he said, rolling his eyes. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his wallet, taking out some money and placing the notes down with the bill to cover the cost of their meal. He then stood up from his seat and walked around to Rose, reaching his hand out to take hers and help her to her feet. "Come on, love. Let's get home so you can have your wicked way with me." He placed his arm around the shoulders of her small frame and leaned in to place tender kiss on her lips.

 

[Pyroclast]

Danny Vaughan

It was obvious that Owen hadn't had an easy day, so Danny only shrugged when he apologised for his sarcastic answer. He was only interested in hearing about what happened and what was so important that he had had to come to the club. When Owen sat back against the wall, Danny himself perched on a table opposite, leaning forward with interest. To hear of him getting jumped whilst doing a run for East Harlem wasn't exactly surprising, but it still made him grimace at the thought. Working on the streets was tough, and even in the very short time that Danny had been working as a drug dealer, he had still had his fair share of dangerous encounters. Thankfully nothing to seriously hurt him, but still enough to give him a decent understanding of the occupational hazards that were to be expected.

Danny exhaled as he searched his mind for ideas of what it could mean. "I mean, yeah, but I didn't ever come face to face with the boss or any of the guys at the top. I just knew one guy on the inside, who was my parents' dealer, and he hired me to help distribute their shit. I wasn't running heavy packages or anything - just dealing coke, heroin, acid, pot, that kind of thing." A serious expression set on his face as he sat on the table, arms folded, trying to come up with something optimistic to say. Owen's job, however, seemed a lot more mysterious than his had been. "Difference is, I always knew what was I was carrying," he went on. "I don't know much about what East Harlem are like, but when Porter made me start working for them instead, the guy who'd recruited me before warned me not to switch. Told me I didn't want to piss East Harlem off, that I'd have to watch my back. But they never came after me, so..." He shrugged. He had been about to say, Maybe it's nothing to worry about, but quickly reminded himself that their situations were totally different. "Do you remember what these guys looked like? Did they show their faces? You might get in trouble for this, but I reckon they'd be more concerned about getting the guys who ambushed you. If you don't waste time in telling them who to go after, they might...go easier on you." The confidence in his tone of voice weakened slightly. The truth was, he had no idea what advice to give Owen that wouldn't potentially result in further harm. While he of course wanted to help him, he didn't want to be responsible for putting him in more danger - especially since he had no first-hand experience of how dangerous the East Harlem gang were.

Suddenly one of Danny's coworkers opened the storeroom door, moving in to pick up a handful of empty trays. "Danny, get out here, you lazy shit," he drily teased him. "Tanya's got it in for you if you keep slackin' off." Danny groaned. "Tell Tanya to chill out, damn," he responded, but knew he ought to get back to work. He couldn't afford to lose yet another job. Once the man had left the room, he turned back to Owen and sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fucking straight jobs, man. Never do 'em." He looked his roommate over once more before getting to his feet with a sigh. "You won't be able to hide from them, dude. Better confess what happened before they work it out. If you're worried they'll shoot the messenger, then exaggerate, lie, do whatever it takes to make them take it out on the guys who jumped you, instead of you. Want me to beat you up worse?" He cracked a smile, but of course he was kidding. Despite the violence that often came alongside his line of work, Danny wouldn't hurt another living thing if he could help it, and Owen of course knew this. "And God, watch your back. Those guys've probably had eyes on you for a while..." He moved over to the door and opened it a crack before turning back to Owen. "I gotta get back on the bar before Tanya bites my ass. You coming? I'll make you whatever you want."

As soon as he got back behind the bar, Tanya reached out and hit him. She tried to make it look playful so the customers wouldn't think anything of it, and Danny laughed, but he could tell she was pissed off with him. He caught the eye of one of the customers and flashed her a somewhat sheepish smile, casually rolling his eyes. "You didn't see that," he playfully told her. "What can I get you?"

Interactions
Fletchawk Owen
Misty Gray Savannah

 

[Pyroclast]

Jason Costello

What on earth just happened? In that moment up on stage, he had been someone else. That was his job, to be someone else. Not Jason Costello talking to Gwen Sheehan, but Clifford Bradshaw talking to Sally Bowles. So why hadn't it felt that way? Usually when he got into a role, he was able to feel like somebody else, step out of his own shoes and into somebody else's, and then at the word 'cut' he would be able to instantly break out of character and go back to being himself. This time, however, he hadn't seemed to have broken out of character, because...well, he had related so strongly to what was happening between them. It was almost as if he hadn't been pretending to be Cliff, but more that Cliff was representing a part of his old self that he hadn't thought about for years. The part of him that had been in love with Gwen, desperate to not let her disappear from his life. But ultimately, that is exactly what had happened, and so he had had to come to terms with it. It was his fault that she ever left. It was always his fault, always him that hurt her and drove her away. If she hadn't been at this audition, perhaps he wouldn't have performed his part with such a realistic connection to the character. Should he be thanking her, then?

As soon as he got back to the green room, Jason placed both hands on the table and stared into the space between them, his mind whirring with new, confusing feelings. This was absolutely not how he had expected the day to turn out. It wasn't long at all before the door opened and Gwen walked in, prompting Jason to push himself upright. She complimented him, which he wasn't expecting, but though it relieved him to hear her speak to him convivially, it wasn't enough to make him smile. He watched her as she turned away from him, but didn't take his eyes off her. "Look, Gwen, I...I don't know what's going to happen here," he muttered, a darkness in his tone of voice. "There's a chance we're going to get these parts, and if that does happen, then it means we'll be working together." Jason paused, not really sure where he was going with this. "I don't want to give up this part, and you shouldn't give up yours, either. So if we end up getting them, then...well, we could just keep things on stage. Maybe we shouldn't kid ourselves."

His words didn't exactly reflect how he felt about the situation - part of him wanted to catch up with her properly, hear all about her life in the last 11 years - but he thought he ought to make a stand before anything worse could happen between them. Gwen's compliment wasn't enough to negate the way she had reacted to seeing him before the callbacks, and despite their natural chemistry when in character, he didn't doubt that the two of them would continue to argue horribly off stage. After all, she couldn't possibly have got her anger towards him out of her system yet.

Interactions
Bellz Gwen

 

[Bellz]

Peter Callahan
​

Peter let out a soft smile as Emery spoke, it warmed his heart to hear that she had loved it when Sinead and him use to sing to her. They had always strove for introducing their children to the art of music, among other normal things that young kids should have been learning. All they ever wanted for their kids was normalcy. It seemed like once again, now that they were out of Dublin, they had just that. His smile faded, just as Emery spoke about her experience while Peter was locked away. He thought about his kids as much as he could, they were what got him through the days when he just wanted to lay down and die.

It had been a different time back then, but in terms of suffering it had felt all the same. Each time Peter had been locked away, it was no different. Pulling into the club parking lot, Peter parked the car before turning to his daughter. He was about to tell her to have a nice time and to say hello to Sinead for him when she suggest that he come in. "Well, I can't say no to my Smiley" He murmured before taking the keys out of the ignition and pushing the door open. His eyes caught something from the corner and immediately he stiffened. There you are you bastard. His mind thought darkly, however, he played it cool for the sake of his wife and waved right back to him.

Not wasting anymore time with such filth, Peter headed towards the club with Emery and looked around the inside. It had been a while and things had definitely changed. Even though he had once been apart of this club himself, he felt like an outsider as he walked towards the office in the back. Letting Emmy come in first, Peter stepped inside next. "Surprise!" He said with a boyish smile on his lips, "Had to stop by and drop of Em, couldn't have her be late now could we?" Peter couldn't help but admire how professional his wife looked behind a desk, it really made him proud to see how well she was handling taking care of the jazz club on her own. Guilty was settling in his stomach as he wondered how hard she had to work for all of this, and how he wasn't around for it anymore.

"You look busy? Do you need me to come back to say hi later?"
with: Sinead/ Emmy Misty Gray

 

[Bellz]

Dr. Ani Saraff
~New York Medical Center~​

Beep...Beep...Beep...Beep...

The monotone noise of the heart monitor whined away as the patient laid on the operating table, Ani took a deep breath before releasing it, hot air filling her mask. An Appendectomy was a piece of cake for her, but it was just as time consuming and needed lots of concentration. The music on the stereo, "Just Like A Woman," By Bob Dylan was turned down in the middle of the second verse. "Dr. Sarraf?" A nurse to her left asked, "Do you need another clamp?" Did she? No. She was just exhausted from the night before. "I'm alright, just making sure I'm steady." With that, she went in with the scalpel, "Making incision.." The blade thinly cut through the thin tissues that held the patient's ruptured appendix inside. It took more than 15 minutes to successfully remove it, before the patching up process could begin.

"Will you be going to the Chief of Medicine's birthday party tonight at the Champagne Room?" Kathy, the nurse to her left, asked her. Ani smirked under the mask, she had been planning on it, but, once again she reminded herself that she was exhausted. "I might stop by later." Why did she say that if it wasn't true? Ani didn't like to disappoint people, she wanted others to see the best in her...

"And we are done." She murmured as she stitched up the last of the opening before cutting the string with scissors. "I'll be around once he's awake and talking to give him a full report on the success of the surgery, but assuming he's alive, he should know by then." With that, Ani turned towards the sinks to wash up, removing her mask once hands were scrubbed. Exiting the surgery wing, Ani stepped out into the madness that was the Emergency wing. The Doctor was done for the day, her shift nearly over, but there was always something she could at least try to help with, whether it be a simple procedure or patch up, or even paperwork.

Turning into the nurses station, she went to grab the schedule to see who was on right now. Down the hall, it seemed like a patient wasn't having it. Next thing she knew, a voice came over the intercom, Code grey, second floor, corridor 2, room 4. Ani was already down the hall before the woman on the speaker could finish announcing that there was an abusive patient in room 4.

"Let go of me!" The man screamed out, his arm bleeding from having ripped out his I.V., his eyes look crazy, like a rabid animal. Ani didn't have to be asked as she barreled inside and reached for one of the man's legs. "We need a sedative in here!" She shouted out to one of the nurses behind her. "Valium. Now!" The woman barked as the man seemed to start convulsing, all the while still conscious. "We have to make sure the patient isn't abu-" Ani shook her head once. "We give him a minor dose, he will be fine!" Luckily, no one seemed to argue with her at that point. The Doctors backed up her words and sent the nurse running to retrieve the sedative.

Looking over at the man, it was hard to watch the panic in his eyes about what was going to happen to him. He was in good hands, but rabid animals didn't like to be caged. Her brother was one of them. The man kicked his legs up and Ani gasped out as she tried with all her strength to hold him down, he was seriously going to hurt someone. Just in time, the nurse returned with the sedative and immediately handed it to the doctor. He plunged the needle into the man and almost instantly his demeanor changed. Ani relaxed and released the man....she would have to get her hands on more of those sedatives.

 

[Bellz]

Roxanne Carriveau
​

Roxie's eyes glanced towards Mitch as they approached her favorite little hang out, wondering what was going through his head. Roxie couldn't also help but wonder if she was normally the type of girl he would be with... Mitch was a very relaxed person from what she could tell, not high maintenance in the slightest. He pulled out the plastic chair for her and Roxie smiled widely, "Such a gentleman," She murmured as she took a seat quickly, "Thank you." She said after before her eyes looked at the scenery around them. One thing she loved about this place was the view of the street, some would call it nosey, she would call it observant, but Roxie was a people watcher.

Her eyes were pulled away after a moment however, as Mitch asked about how she found the place. "He might as well be a relative. We are very close. Francis lives in the apartments a few blocks away from here and he and his wife are always having trouble finding parking. Mind you, the two who own this place are older then Italy itself." Before she could say another word, Nanny stepped out onto the deck, her hands reached up and a huge expression on her face when she saw Roxie, "Roxanne! mia figlia!" The brunette let out an embarrassed chuckle as the little old woman pinched her cheeks. "Look at how thin you are! You haven't been by in weeks! I told Francis I was so worried, we should have been sending you some plates to the apartment." Roxie smiled widely and shook her head, "Nanny, its alright, I have plenty to eat. But I want you to meet Mitch," She pointed to the lawyer, a smirk on her face as she knew the same greeting was coming his way. "Oh you bring me men to feed! Look at you too! I swear, New York doesn't have enough food, not like home." The woman patted Mitch's cheek gentle. "You eat for first time here? I fix you up the best..don't worry-" The woman was already turning and heading for the kitchen, "FRANCIS!" Nanny shouted as she rounded the corner and disappeared.

Roxie let the silence take over, cars passing by and people talking filling it. She tried to hold in her laughter but failed, "Didn't give you much of a choice to order I'm afraid. But they never fail to bring out something delicious." The woman wasn't sure what the lawyer thought now, after Nanny fussing over him so much. The woman only meant well, if she couldn't scare him away, then Roxie would be confident that he could make it with her.

"Anyways, Dutch food? I'm not sure if I've ever had something like that before. I'm assuming I can trust your word on it. It has to be delicious right?"
with: Mitch RayPurchase

 

[Bellz]

Gwen Bryant​

Gwen wasn’t expecting Jason to say much after her compliment, sure she had confused him enough, the woman took a step towards the other exit, her back still to him. He spoke up, and she immediately halted. Noting the darkness in his tone, the redhead slowly turned around to face him. Gwen hadn’t thought about the future...what would happen once this audition was over, but she was quickly reminded of it.

If they were to get the parts, they would be working together. Gwen couldn’t really afford to let this audition go, not when her family was so serious about getting her clean. She wanted to be clean...or at least she tried to tell herself that. Lifting her hands lightly, she twiddled her thumbs together not saying a word as Jason continued.

He encouraged her to keep her part, saying he wasn’t giving up his. Part of her wished he would, only because she couldn’t let hers go...

The performance seemed to have simmered her anger, seeing as how she could stand there without wanting to spit in his face or call him a bunch of different creative language. But the idea of them just, keeping it on stage...that they shouldn’t be kidding themselves...well those words just didn’t sit right.

What is it that you want? She found herself asking. She was angry when he was nice to her, she was angry when he admitted that they were kidding themselves. How could she do this? She didn’t know. Gwen hoped she didn’t look hurt as she swallowed before speaking, ”Maybe we shouldn’t.” She agreed, there was an obvious strain to her voice that she was sure would only confuse the man more...as she was still confused herself. ”Keep it professional? I assume since you are suggesting this that it won’t be to hard for you to do.” Her voice took on another tone, one that was taking great pleasure in taunting him. Realizing that she was actually the one not being professional, as much as she didn’t want to admit, Gwen sighed lightly and shook her head, letting it fall into her cupped hands as she went to rub at her tired eyes.

”I’m too exhausted to keep up this pettiness, Jase.” the nickname slipped past her lips without stopping, clearly having not noticed her saying it, Gwen continued, ”I have a life that I need to get back, and this is my only shot. I’m not going to ruin your chances..as I’m sure you worked hard to get here. But past this show, we are nothing. I can’t have you pulling at my heart strings anymore than you had in Dublin. I have more than just myself to take care of, and I’m sure you do too by now.” The thought of Jason with anyone else was a painful one and something Gwen would rather not think about. But who was she kidding? It had been 11 years, too long not to have at least someone else. She wasn’t with anyone at the moment of course, but she had been and now she had Lorelei.
with: Jason Pyroclast

 

[Fletchawk]

Ryan Donahue
Los Angeles, May 15th, 1961
​

Ryan didn't remember seeing much during the 'internment'. Four days, and he could barely remembered what was in the room with him during that time, let alone people's faces. Not that Alfie was even worth remembering. But he remembered their voices, the laughter, the curses, and especially the fists that followed after. Four days, and Ryan came out of it with most of his ribs either cracked or shattered, a dislocated knee, a slew of internal bruising, and his fingernails were still growing back. When he'd awoken in the hospital, he'd been there for over a week. It would be another three weeks until he was cleared to go home, or rather to Seo-yeong's home. That was also the day that Mr. Di Giorgio sent someone to tell him that Ryan was expected to pay a visit once he'd recovered.

That was almost two months ago, and Ryan was now frozen before an ornate mahogany door, the only thing stood between Mr. Di Giorgio and himself.

"Forget how to use a door?" goaded the chauffeur standing behind him. Ryan thought he could hear the man laughing quietly, and almost fired back a retort, but only saw a wall of stoicism when he glanced backwards. It was very same stoicism that greeted him unannounced at the front door that morning. Telling himself that he was just tired, Ryan shook his head briefly to clear the remaining memories, and steeled him for whatever came next.

The well oiled door opened soundlessly until Ryan let go of the handle and it sprang back into its default position. The study was sizable, and lined with bookshelves that matched the door. On what little wall space remained, were either portraits of people Ryan didn't recognize, or religious paintings. Then there was the centerpiece of the room, the massive desk that took up a fair portion of the room and the plump man that sat behind it, Di Giorgio. It had been eighty-six days by Ryan's count since he last saw the man, and he personally would've preferred to have keep counting.

Remaining seated, the man looked Ryan over before setting down the folder of papers that he was reading, "Ah, wasn't entirely sure you'd make a full recovery, but you're looking mostly patched up," he said in a welcoming tone, nodding towards the brace that stabilized Ryan's knee. There was a sizable pause as the man's eyes turned hawkish and examined Ryan a few times over, and then waved his hand to dismiss the chauffeur, "That's all for now," and waited for the man to leave before giving Ryan his full attention, "Have a seat, Mr. Donahue."

As there was only the solitary chair in front of the desk, and in no position to say otherwise, Ryan complied. The stiffness of the seat cushion immediately gave way how chair was usually just decorative, but it took the building pressure off his knee. "Thank you, sir," he said, mostly as a courtesy than actual gratitude.

"Ya know, when Louis told me about Alfie getting tossed around in his own club, I thought it was some Marino leftovers looking for revenge. Imagine my surprise when he said it was one man. Of course, he clammed up when I asked why a single guy would do something so stupid, but he eventually spilled about Alfie's little side gig of being a snake..."

"What do you want?" Ryan said briskly, interrupting the man's reminiscing.

If Di Giorgio had been annoyed by being cut off, it didn't show. The man didn't let the air between them have a chance to stagnant however, as he leaned over, opened a drawer, and pulled out a black case. As Di Giorgio set the box a top the desk, Ryan could see it was about as long as his forearm and half that wide.

"There's a great many things I want, Mr. Donahue. Like knowin' why a goon from Chicago tore up one of my clubs in my city."

Ryan struggled to restrain a grimace, as he was almost absolutely certain that the man had no interest in the answer, as he likely already knew. The mafioso boss was fishing for something, but he couldn't put his finger on what for. However, despite the mafioso's comfortable posture, his fixated gaze unnerved Ryan somewhat.

"I had planned on retiring. Something came up though, and I needed intel. I was looking for a broker who was familiar with our kind of lifestyle, and was directed to Alfie." his body tensed reflexively when mobster's name came out, but faded against the seriousness that was hanging in the room before it caused him to dwell.

"What kinda intel?"

"Does it matter?"

"Probably not, but humor me," the mafioso boss said as he leaned forward with a friendly smile that contrasted the man's intense eyes.

"I'm looking for Carrick Sullivan."

"Hmm," the expression was all the man volunteered before relaxing back into his throne, his scrutinizing gaze finally laxing.

"Know him?" Ryan dared to press, knowing that he was in no position to actually make demands.

"In passing. Clever man, but our interests didn't align. What's your business with him?" he inquired in turn, but sounding increasingly disinterested. It was obvious to Ryan that the man across from him was dealing from under the table, and all he could do was hold what few cards he had close to his chest, even if it turned out to be a fruitless effort.

"He took something that wasn't his to take. But I doubt you actually care about that, so again, what do you want?"

The mafioso chuffed amusingly, "No nonsense from you, eh? Alright, here." the plumbish man rotated the case to reveal its simple latch before pushing it partway across the desk towards Ryan. Even then, it remained out of Ryan's reach unless he stood up. Which he did, although it irritated his still weakened knee. Opening the box, Ryan immediately identified one of the items inside as what remained missing after his capture, his M1911. Taking it from its box, he immediately felt more at ease, even though it was unloaded. Putting his old sidearm back, Ryan examined the other item, a California Driver's License.

"Perry Barone?" reading aloud the name that accompanied the picture of him before Ryan fully grasped what the ramifications were of such a thing existing. He started to feel ill as he saw Di Giorgio's smugness.

"Mostly a formality, as the old traditions don't serve the family as well here in the West, but they must be followed to some extent. Your initiation will happen in the coming weeks, but I have a feeling you'll be fine..."

The mafioso's pearly smile made Ryan want to cave it in, and only the fact that he and everything he now held dear would be destroyed kept him from doing so. Instead, all he could do was clench his own teeth until they threatened to shatter.

"...so, welcome to the family, Mr. Barone."

 

[Pyroclast]

Syd Porter

Spoiler: Trigger Warning

Mention of suicide attempts, overdose, depression, bipolar disorder, loss, grief, death of parent, death of partner

While Syd understood that Maddox was only being professional when he advised him to report any worsening side effects, Syd still felt slightly reluctant. Transitioning between medications was significantly harder to handle than the side effects he was currently experiencing, and he was sure that they would have to get a great deal worse until it was worth trying something else. Changing dosage was also something he would rather avoid, as he truly felt that he was doing well mentally. Nevertheless, he did trust Maddox's judgement, and so, despite his uncertainty, he nodded along to the man's advice.

"I know, I know," Syd assured his counsellor, when he warned him about drinking whilst on his medication. "It's not something I'm in the habit of doing. But last night was a special occasion, and I was drinking for fun, not for anything else. It was okay. I learned from it, anyway. I will be careful, I promise." Aside from the drama he had caused at the party, and the consequences of it that he had yet to address, he mostly remembered it to be a fun night. Being surrounded by family was when Syd was at his happiest. Having all the dogs together, all the children, seeing his hard-working parents relax and enjoy themselves, watching his cousin play the piano - there wasn't anything better in life as far as he was concerned.

It seemed that Maddox was keen to cover a lot of ground during the session as he then went on to ask Syd about his support network. "I'm lucky enough to have a large, close-knit family, yeah," he smiled. "Seems to always be growing. Since I moved into my own place, I see them mostly for business reasons, now. But I make sure I go round to my parents' house at least once a week for pleasure and I do my best to not miss any gatherings, parties, that kind of thing. I couldn't live with myself if I let us grow apart." Syd caught Maddox's eye then, hoping he wouldn't read into his words too literally. "They need me, and I need them. You know, we've all been through a lot...everyone's experienced loss on some level. Both my parents lost their fathers and Aliana once lost the man she loved, as did my aunt Sinead, a long time ago. Plus, you know, Skye's death didn't just affect me. Savannah was very close to her, too. I don't know...The circumstances were all different. But we've all experienced it." Syd paused for a moment as he reflected on the traumas he had seen his family go through over the years and the ways in which people had treated him while he was going through his own. "Everyone in the family business knows about my condition either because they know what happened, and what I did, or have been made aware just for practicality's sake. If it was to get in the way of business, for example, then my colleagues would have to be told. My little brother knows about Skye, and he knows that I take meds and see you, but I never talk about anything heavy with him. I don't know how much he remembers, he was probably too young to understand." He frowned for a second, suddenly realising that he actually didn't know how much Thomas knew of his condition or his history of suicide attempts. Hopefully very little.

"My mam is my emergency contact still, so she's usually the first to know," he continued. "Sinead, too - she's got manic depression so she's on...she's on medication, as well." Syd swallowed, trying to ignore the memory that sprang to the surface at mention of his aunt's condition. It was her medication that he had stolen and overdosed on back when he was 21 - his final attempt and the reason he had ended up being sectioned. The guilt of it had never really gone away. "She's easy to talk to, you know, she's a very caring woman. But she's got enough on her plate right now, dealing with her marital issues and all Peter's going through, so I don't really feel like I could go to her. I'd tell my dad, of course, for practical reasons, if it was going to get in the way of business. Honesty is important in our line of work. I'd never want to let him down or miss a job, but I...I like to think I wouldn't lie to him about this. It's just hard to admit to sometimes. Everyone else I guess would hear through my dad, and that's okay with me, I guess. I trust him to handle that better than I could. But my mam, I have her on speed dial, just in case. I hate upsetting her, she gets so upset by it, but she understands how I work probably more than I do, so..." He gave a slightly depressing smile, looking up to Maddox after realising he had been gazing vacantly at the floor as he spoke. "I owe my parents my life, really."

Interactions
Misty Gray Maddox

Bellz Lucy, Thomas, Peter (mentioned)
Melanin-Gxdess Aliana (mentioned)