𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗹𝗮𝗱𝘆

the swat to his arm causes him to grin. "hey! you had fun" he reminds her before replying "you did." leon laughs. "you told her she was an old soul and i remember thinking, is this a prank?" he'd been honestly so confused about the whole palm-reading thing. "i even started actively looking for cameras, everywhere. we were so fucked that night." the memory amuses him, he misses those wild nights in new york. he misses the wild nights with alana. she covers her face, embarrassed, and leon thinks she's the cutest ever. a fond smile on his lips. it turns to a scoff, "been there, done that," he sighs. either having someone trying to fix you or you trying to fix someone, those are always some of the most toxic relationships. pulling his hand away from her knee and picking up his beer, the blond listens as she tells him about a clinical psych program. "that's cool." it sounds interesting. "being fucking self-aware is a good problem to have," he offers with a chuckle. at least you know your flaws and can work on them. when she compliments him, leon can tell she's checking him out. fuck, those eyes still have the same power on him. and marcus is now gone from the picture. "yeah, i moved here in june and things are good. i get to work with music, i got my own place... you might not believe me, but it's actually tidy for once," he smiles, playfully. mischievously.

"'Course I did," Alana admitted with a laugh. She held up a finger to protest, "And I stand by that! She had an energy, like she's seen a lot." Her laughter only multiplied when Leon admitted he'd actually looked for cameras. "Damn, I would love to read Ashton Kutcher's palm." Alana swiped at a tear that managed to squeeze out, regaining her composure to refocus on their actual conversation. She took a sip of her martini, stirring the olive lazily as she listened intently. "And lived to tell the tale," she hummed, affectionate smile communicating just how glad she was for that fact. "It is, until you're in class with someone who knows your fucking EMDR targets," Alana laughed, taking the final sip of her drink and setting the glass aside. She leaned in to the shifting energy, crossing one leg over the other and letting her foot graze his, almost absently. "I'm not sure I do believe you," she lifted a brow, silently daring him to ask. "It's not very rockstar chic of you to fold your clothes." Her eyes darted to the door, then back to Leon, sweet smile tugging serenely at her lips.

Adrian watched her tear up on command and actually had to look away for a second, like he needed to reboot his entire brain. "Jesus Christ," he muttered, laughter bleeding through despite himself. "Weaponizing fake tears should be illegal. I’m reporting you to someone now, definitely. I’ll figure out who later."

Alana smiled, self-satisfied at the fact that she'd actually managed to shock Adrian Sinclair into silence-- even if it was fleeting. She took it in, attempting to commit every detail of his discomfort to memory before breaking the silence with another jab. "Weaponizing is a big word for Elmo," she teased, voice lilting tauntingly.

Alana's remark only earned her another eye roll from JJ, and he shook his head before picking up the broken box and breaking it down to dispose of it. "You mean... this suggestion box?" He asked, smirking as he stepped towards the nearest recycling bin and tossed it in. "Good." Letting out a laugh, he shook his head before returning his gaze towards Mia in the stroller. "You be careful around her, sweetheart. Your Aunt Lana can corrupt you very easily," he joked, giving her hair a quick ruffle while he waited for Alana to return. "No, not at all," he lied, shooting her a wink before he picked up one of the boxes and balanced it on the candles of the stroller. "Come on, let's get these inside. Mia's getting cold, and I promised her a hot chocolate." With that, he motioned her towards The Book Nook.

"Yes, that suggestion box," she doubled down, then quickly lost her straight face as she watched JJ break down her suggestions box. "I don't suppose you'd take this as a sign from the universe that I'm, like, perfect now. You know, needs no suggestions," Alana attempted, cracking a smile to show she was joking. She watched JJ discard the box, then quickly followed his gaze to perfect Mia. "Corrupt her?" she demanded, "And how do you think I'm going to do that?" Alana shot a cautious glance at the box JJ balanced on the stroller, but went ahead and propped the door open for him anyway. "A hot chocolate?" she cooed, stepping inside and depositing the box on the counter so she could dip her face down to talk to Mia. "Immaculate taste, my girl. Think your daddy will buy Auntie Lana one, too?" she smiled, raising an eyebrow at JJ to see if he'd cave.

"I mean, my God Levi-- no wife and no kids?" she teased, putting on the auntie voice once more to plead with him, "Don't you know we're trying to repopulate a people?" Alana laughed, pinching his bicep in retaliation for his eerie impersonation of Bubbe at her college graduation. She groaned, lifting a hand to her head, "I think you're giving me a tension headache." She shook it off, bravely, and chuckled at his accusation, "Are you implying I'd manipulate you? I'm shocked, Levi. Hurt." She absolutely would be singing a different tune if Asher happened to be walking down the street, but wasn't that her right as the younger cousin? Alana hummed sympathetically, "You need like a weird old man hobby. You know, like deep sea fishing or something." Alana hoisted some more books up, moving towards the door before she stopped short and turned to Levi with a gleam in her eye, "You know, I have this TV stand that's just begging to be built... I'll buy you lunch if you help me."

Leyla huffed as they stepped outside, shifting the box under her arm. "A full stop? Certainly not," she said, flat. "Pausing just means I get extra time to spiral about it. You did this to yourself."

Alana sighed dramatically, pursing her lips in thought for a long moment before laying out her terms-- because, of course, she had terms for a renovation that... honestly didn't involve her at all. "Okay, fine, but you have to promise to hire hot contractors. I don't even care that it's sexist, I think we deserve to drink and watch men get all sweaty."

Hattie felt a slight blush cover her cheeks as she'd remembered the scene differently than Alana. She was almost positive that she'd seen it that way. Her gaze drifted over a few of the titles on the table they'd been standing in front of. Grabbing a blue book 'Funny Story' by Emily Henry, she hadn't read this one before. She flipped it, looking over the summary on the back before nodding as the woman explained psychological horror. "Oh okay" She hummed, "Those sound interestin'" she tucked the blue book under her arm, half deciding to get it.

Alana watched as Hattie seemed to settle on a book, peering to catch the name on the sign. "Emily Henry, I've heard good things about her," she commented, thinking about it for a moment before confirming, "I remember-- my roommate read Beach Read when it came out." She smiled at Hattie's approval, confessing, "I'm a glutton for psychoanalysis. I study psychology, so, it's sort of par for the course."

leon rolls his eyes with a smile on his face. she's not a failed actress, not in his eyes. she's not a failure at all. marcus made her feel that way, too much. "okay, okay, i admit part of it was to piss him off, i absolutely hated that guy," he confesses with a small shrug of his shoulders. then, a playful grin spreads across his lips. "but we did have fun, didn't we? you and me? remember the time we got stuck in the subway for two hours? i could never forget that night." leon notices a little more attention to his face from alana. a small blush creeps up to his ears. she asks him about his dating, and he can't deny that the heartbreak hasn't subsided. not entirely, at least. "yeah. you remember salem, right? we started dating three years ago, but it was a whole on-and-off toxic thing. we both hurt each other because we both had so many fucked up patterns." the blond takes a deep breath and focuses on alana's movements, tilting her head and swiping a little gin off her bottom lip. "but i'm better, you know. salem and i haven't been in touch in over a year, so yeah... moving on and shit." following her lead, leon rests a hand on her knee. "it eventually doesn't suck so much." he hopes his words will make alana feel some sort of relief for the future. "therapy helps. you know, the whole breaking intergenerational traumas so you don't repeat the same fucked up choices. i'm definitely a way better man than back in new york."

Alana laughed, light and easy, a rare feat considering the topic of conversation, "And I'll admit-- he was fun to piss off." At least, until she was the one picking up the pieces at the end of the day. She nodded, allowing Leon to lead her down memory lane. "Oh my God, yeah, you got me so high," she teased, swatting at his arm, "That poor woman who helped us get home... I remember trying to read her palm?" Alana covered her face for a moment, embarrassed by the memory. Even if it left her feeling warm, with confirmation that not everything in New York was bad. She hummed sympathetically. Alana knew a thing or two about fucked up patterns, herself, how they can make you feel like a stranger in your own body. "It's even harder when you get where they're coming from. It always made me think I could fix him," she mused. Alana's eyes flitted down to Leon's hand on her knee and she blinked, warmth shooting up her neck. "God, yeah," she agreed, "I'm in this program now for Clinical Psych and I swear it's like paying to fight your demons. Everyone is so fucking self aware I want to vomit." It was a good problem to have, certainly, but Alana's PhD cohort knew way more about her than she ever would've wanted. "Hey, I'm proud of you, though. It sounds like you're doing really well."

Her toddler voice earned her the slowest, laziest blink he had in his arsenal. "Wow," he deadpanned. "Do that voice again and I’m calling mall security. Or animal control. Whichever responds first."

"It's sweet that you think a girl who can cry on command would be afraid of Paul Blart." She looked at him for a long moment, concentrating until her eyes began welling with tears. "I'm sorry, officer, I don't know what he's talking about. All I wanted was to sell my books!" Alana wailed before she wrapped it up, swiping at her eyes with her free hand. Before she could so much as take a bow for her Oscar-worthy performance, Alana's eyes were bright and her smile taunting. "So you admit you were tracking me," she accused.

She shot her a look. The flat, unimpressed kind she reserved exclusively for people she actually liked. "Dropping it? No." She pushed open the shop door with her shoulder, bells chiming softly as the warm smell of old paper wrapped around them. "I’m… pausing it. There’s a difference." She didn’t elaborate, because she didn’t have to. Alana already knew the rhythm of Leyla’s overthinking well enough to spot when she’d hit one of her spirals.

Alana groaned at Leyla's unwillingness to complete drop the renovation idea. Though, she supposed the woman's stubbornness was part of what drew Alana to her. Birds of a feather flock together, and that. "And is the pause, perhaps, on the way to a full stop?" she prodded, eyebrows raised hopefully. Alana placed the books in her arms carefully onto the counter, pausing to greet the cashier and hand over her information for the sale.

"More than I broke coming home from college without a man on my arm?" she teased, flattening the offending box under her foot and making a mental note to come back and dispose of it properly. She threw hear head back, putting on her best nasally voice to mimic her aunties, "'Oh, Alana, New York City is the most densely populated city in the nation and you didn't find one nice boy to bring home?'" She smiled gratefully at Levi, beginning to stack a few of the fallen books in her arms with his help. "Exactly, and the robbery was going so poorly until my favorite cousin showed up," she chuckled. Flattery'll get you lots of places, she figured! "Any big plans today?"

With a free afternoon to himself, Sebastian made the sporadic decision to drop into The Book Nook to browse the selection. It was the type of place where you never knew what kind of treasures you'd come across, since their collection was rapidly changing with each donation. He managed to find a few thrillers that found interesting, plus a book filled with Shakespeare's most popular works. As he was exiting, he spotted a familiar face moments before disaster struck. "Shit, let me help," Sebastian sprung forward and began neatly piling up the scattered array of literature. "Definitely not committing a war crime, don't worry. I love me some Barbra but this one one hefty book. The fact that there's that many of them in one box is clearly the reason why it broke on you," he teased with a light chuckle.

When she recognized who was swooping in to rescue her, Alana's smile notched up several levels. "Bash! My hero!" she gushed, greeting her old friend eagerly. Alana and Sebastian were most certainly cut from the same cloth, and after being co-stars on a number of shows, they were basically family, if you asked Alana. "It's insane, like, she literally contains multitudes, don't you think?" she joked, picking up another two copies of Barba's life story. "Right? And sure, maybe I should've just packed two boxes. Sue me for being optimistic, I guess," she huffed, standing with a new stack of books in her arms. "I guess the universe knew you'd be nearby."

"Alana Cohen," he repeated, slow and theatrical, like he was testing the Bloody Mary theory anyway. "There. Said it once. Want me to try for two?"

"Try for three," she challenged, looking Adrian up and down as if checking to see if he could match her energy. She wasn't sure what she'd do if he followed through, but Alana had taken enough improv classes to come up with something on the fly-- and there was something undeniably theatrical about this whole exchange, like she and Adrian were locked in a scene together. "Oh, yeah, you're welcome-- do you do exercises for that? Like, Sudoku? I bet you're really good at it, buddy," she laid it on thick, using a tone she'd usually reserve for toddlers.