our lot in life

She raises a brow. "Not much of a partier, are we?" Maybe it's a false front, something she tells people to cover up her nighttime activities. Or maybe she is that . . . wholesome. She snorts at that thought.

"If you're careful, and pick them up from the back, maybe not. But no risk, no reward, right?"

Did that make her sound super-duper childish? Sloane's worry clearly showed on her face, feeling like the lamest person in the world for being scared of crabs.

She'd survived a murder attempt, gosh darn it! She could do anything.

"But I'd like to try!" She follows exactly what she sees Tinley doing, combing the sand with her fingers to feel around, "I'm willing to try lots of things once."

"Fine then. Let me take the administrative lift. I’ll coordinate with the companies, build the comparative cost sheets, and prep releases to go to each neighborhood grocer and pharmacy telling them what their next steps will be," Edmund was a little used to being a go-between for others, and this could show Leticia that he wasn't just another face hidden in a cubicle, "I can set up a daily supply tracker on the city's website too, so citizens can be aware of what they can expect shelves to look like. That'll decrease the waves of panic-shopping for essentials."

"Those aren't bad ideas, but it's a team effort. No one person is handling any one task," The polite way of Leticia going "fuck no".

"We have a copy writing team to work on press releases, and we have coders who update the city websites. You're welcome to go to either of those teams and see what help they need," but it's not getting through without my approval, "but you're only one person, and there's a lot of moving parts that need to coordinate on this. Surely you can find a place for yourself when Olympios doesn't need you?"

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly at Leticia's familiar overbearance, but doesn't push back against her insistence that she stay. She doesn't particularly want to go back out into the weather, anyways. Or whatever else might be waiting for her.

"Tea, always," she says, her smile lingering. It feels nice to be cared for, even if she won't trust in it lasting. She follows Leticia toward her kitchen, holding the blanket tight around her. "So, if we're having a sleepover, does that mean we're about to break out the face masks and truth or dare?"

"I have face masks, but I'm not letting you dare me to lick the toilet bowl again. I'm a woman of class and standards now." Leticia had always been the "mature" one in the family, rolling eyes at party games that descended into giggles and chaos.

"And I don't think you want me asking why you're really stuck in the rain tonight, so best to avoid games altogether. We can play dress up though, you can take some of my clothes while yours are in the wash."

But that's undercut by Sloane offering for them to learn together, and even further undercut by the humor of Sloane refusing to go skydiving with her. She can't take herself too seriously when her friend says something like that.

A giggle escapes her, and she can't help but reach out a mischievous hand to poke her in the side.

"So if I went skydiving you'd just let me drop?" She jokes, laughing softly and shaking her head. "Yeah, we'll learn together. Definitely not skydiving."

It felt a little discourteous to say out loud, but Sloane had always felt like Sophia was a sister she'd never had. In some ways, maybe Sloane was a sister Sophia hadn't had either. Was that rude, to replace a sisterly relationship? Not replace, but substitute for a little while? Sophia really needed someone, and Sloane did too.

"I would absolutely never-ever-never let you fall. Unless you really needed the push and for someone to believe you'll be okay."

The cats he had met throughout the streets of Godscobh were always different from one another. Some were obviously cared for, someone’s beloved pet with their shiny bell collar, who weaved between his legs during the day and returned home at night. Others were old, disheveled, abandoned or wounded. Vulnerable. Like him.

It always made him wish that he could keep them safe, take them in somehow, but he knows he can’t — he had only barely survived the winter on his own, staying warm by constantly moving and scrounging up whatever money he could get his hands on in order to keep himself fed, he does not have the means or the ability to become responsible for another life on top of that.

Sloane does, though — and she could really make a difference in some of these kitties’ lives. These strays with nowhere else to go, who no one else would choose. If anyone could love the unlovable and want the unwanted, he believes it’s her.

“You should pick whichever one needs your help the most. I think.”

She rather thought some of the cats reminded her of P himself, a little scraggly and wiry like they've lived far longer on their own than they should've. Sloane always wanted a house full of animals, birds on the windowsill and dogs greeting her at the door. Funnily enough though, her father's houses were always so big, so vast that animals would've just gotten lost. Hopefully these kitties would never get lost, and never have to live on their own again.

A smooth haired grey one stretched it's paws against the bars of the crate, and Sloane held her palms up like they could shake hands. Or just touch and connect with each other through the pads on her fingers.

"This one's name is Rose. That was my grandmother's name."

As she spoke though, another spotted tabby rubbed it's side against her knuckles too, asking for soft scratches.

"Oh, but this one's just begging for love," Sloane bemoaned, "You're not getting one?"

Thea tilts her head in confusion. She's never heard anyone describe her as charismatic. Blunt, no-nonsense, resolute, but not charismatic.

"Thank you, though how you came to that conclusion, I don't know."

She'd been helping play "Hold the Press" while they try to actually wrap up the raid debacle. She's pretty sure she heard one of the reporters call her "Dragon Lady" as she left the room.

"I'm from DC, and there are so many politicians who are old fuddy-duddies who speak in nonsense, and it's really refreshing to see you're so very poised and, like, certain of yourself. I hope I'm like that when I'm grown."

Sloane is grown now, of course, but sometimes she doesn't feel like it when compared to others.

"You know what they say about making assumptions, James," She had actually visited Godscobh many times in her youth, in contact with Zander's family. That was personal though, and not something she cared to discuss with the man who could use information against anybody, "Are you worried about an insurance payout, is that it? I'm certain as long as you document all the damaged products, you'll be well taken care of."

Nauticus would make every red dime back that they lost, Hook knew it in his heart and head. Didn't make it any less frustrating to be losing it for the time being.

The comment about keeping documents was just to get to him. Harriet was very good at being irritating.

"Are you saying you'll take care of me?" He puts the ball in her court, if she thinks she's so well connected and in charge.

Adam may not be the most socially aware person among his peers but even he can recognize that that is a clear end of that conversation thread. He shouldn't be surprised. They had both set the boundaries early on.

Adam nods in understanding, shifting his stance to more nonchalance.

"Okay. Do you need any help? I can make an anonymous donation. Within reason of course."

He slips into his more usual flirtatious vibe, smirking and letting his gaze wander up and down James' form, deciding to see the new scars not as a worrisome thing but adding to the allure of the captain.

"I'll be just fine," He released a wrist of Adam's and brings his hand up to scrape along Adam's jawline, feeling the crisp stubble and smiling, "If we bring money into this, it just makes things more complicated. I don't need anything from you but this."

This being the press against the wall he'd missed so much.

Hades knew the situation at the port was getting a little intense, and he was trying to work something out. He understood Hook’s frustration, of course, but working on a solution when someone was breathing down your neck about it was a little… irritating. “I’m working on it.” He said, sitting up a little more in his seat. He watched Hook carefully before continuing.  “What are they doing? And more importantly, what have they found?” 

Although it wasn't Hades's fault necessarily, he'd thought they had an arrangement to keep this type of heat far away from Nauticus. The most he has to worry about at the beginning of the year should be submitting taxes, not a police investigation.

"They've taken everyone's statements, I had a lovely meeting with the Sheriff," Hook did not think much of the boy, elected while he was still wet behind the ears, "What I would be positively delighted by is to pin this far more on the Lost Boys and their delinquency. They're obviously do-nothing young adults who wanted to make their own party spot on my property, and I shouldn't even be under investigation. I'd like this case to be closed."

Even though he is the mayor, Hook isn't sure Hades has the power for that.

“Hmmm… see, guidance is probably smarter but I gotta see how you’d play paper cards with me.”

"And now, since you have the confirmation of what you were already going to do, you can give yourself permission to buy new skates anyways. So, my prediction will definitely come true."

Hannah isn't lying to herself when she says that she doesn't resent Leticia. She doesn't. There's nothing to resent. It's not as though the abandonment was entirely one-sided. But even if it had been, even if them falling out of one another's lives was entirely on Leticia alone, Hannah doesn't think she could blame her all that much. Hannah knows, inside and out, what she is. There were better things waiting for a smart girl on the other side of ambition. Nobody should have to wait for that.

"I think your posture might be a little better too." She comments, another small tease.

At the question about her studio, Hannah smiles, soft and reserved.

Except to Hannah. That sad thought pops up easily and doesn't go away. Leticia had been thinking a lot lately about times when she'd let her willpower and her pushing disturb her friendships. Odette could barely look her in the eye nowadays.

Hannah wasn't like that though, right? They were still acquainted, even if Leticia had gotten too sucked into her jobs to dote on her anymore.

"Oh, it is extremely soul-sucking. In fact, I'm the one doing the soul sucking most of the time," Leticia never felt exhausted doing what she loved: fixing other people's problems, "If you're ever out late and see one window with a light on on the fourth floor, that's probably me not being able to put down the damn phone."

The pair arrives at the Black Pearl Inn, the distillery Leticia loved to haunt when she'd had the time years ago. Would Hannah recall coming here together before?

Leticia Moirai had been someone whose career had first started under his long tenure as the mayor — and someone whom he had been more than happy to keep by his side as she proved herself loyal, forward-thinking and capable in a crisis time and time again. Someone whom he had bolstered into the position she now holds due in no small part to that, as her achievements piled higher and higher. A deserving and just reward for a deserving and just young woman.

As always, when she comes to him, he expects that she will bring a matter worthy of his notice to his door — and he is not disappointed in the slightest, when she says her piece.

“And I take it you have thoughts as to what these contingency plans are, do you not? Enlighten me. What do you have in mind?”

@allxtted

"You know me so well," She shoots a finger gun at him, probably happier than she should be about all of the trouble they'd have to go through.

"So the easiest option in the short term would be to reach out to the next town over to share supplies. They would have frozen meals for the schools, and we might be able to distribute dry goods like rice, grains, that kind of thing. Buuuut those are still the guys who turned you down on the waste management deal last winter and literally left us with all that garbage to deal with."

It was frustrating at times, but Leticia sort of loved the social politics that went along with the real politics. She found it fun to volley with people who didn't play nice with others, just so she could be the mediator.

"Option two takes longer, but might be good for your image this year. We could get in touch with the farmers who make their way out here for the market every few weeks, provide subsidies or benefits if they donate food to our schools and grocers. We'd have to make it a good incentive for them, but would certainly engage the community. What do you think?"

"Oh boo hoo. Cry me a river," she said with an eye roll. Usually, she'd try to handle her interactions with Hook more carefully than this, knowing there was a balance between being snarky and pushing too many of his buttons. But she was running on low sleep, and her emotions felt like a bubbling mess, all at the surface where she couldn't control how they spilled out.

He was right. They'd only managed to endanger each other, meanwhile Hook would brush this off. Though it did give her a flare of smug satisfaction to hear him admit that they had cost him, in the end. It wouldn't be an easy recovery, and for that, at least, she could be happy.

That satisfaction was quickly chased down by burning anger again. She might have hated how the Boys' stunt played out, but she knew the one thing that would never change: they did care about each other. They were family first and foremost, and family sometimes made stupid decisions, but that didn't stop them from being family.

"That's rich coming from you. Your Crocs are only loyal to you for the money," she snapped. "It's not like they give a damn about each other."

"My crew is loyal to me because I give a damn about them. I give a damn about surviving. I don't have them all sticking their necks out like idiots."

Hook demanded the kind of respect that came about under threat of going to war, he did not care one bit if his crew actually liked or trusted him. He cared that they lived as long as Nauticus would live. No one could trust anyone in this business. Hook clearly made that mistake trusting Tinley, and he wouldn't come close to it again.

"They'll use you. Just like they use each other. The moment you stop being useful, you’re out," Hook seethed through his teeth. Clearly the Lost Boys didn't value their tinkerer if they'd put her and everyone else in the gang in harm's way. In the way of James Hook.

"You know I'm right. Some people are just one bad day away from throwing each other under the bus. A lot of people, Bell," He does recognize the irony in asking her to do the same, "The moment the cops catch up? Or when someone more dangerous than me comes sniffing around? They obviously have no qualms throwing you to the wolves if it saves their skin. You won’t even get a second thought. Is that the kind of loyalty you want?"

But to challenge the established order is a dangerous endeavour, and one that does not come without consequences. The reason why he could not be the one to escort the owner of Nauticus to the interrogation room himself, as he would have wished to, is because he had been injured during the assault, grazed by a bullet while leading the initial charge only hours ago — which had necessitated that he, after securing the premises and carrying out initial searches and apprehensions, step away from the action in order to seek medical attention.

This is why he returns to the precinct only now, a bandaged wound carefully concealed beneath the layers of his uniform and coat as he walks into the room with an authority and a confidence beyond his years, appearing unfazed by the cold welcome he receives and the sight of the man before him — a man who, if he were to hazard a guess, is not used to being regarded by anyone without fear or awe.

“James Hook, is it? I do not believe we have ever been formally introduced. I am Sheriff Pevensie. Peter Pevensie. Now, are you ready to begin?”

@allxtted

"Ready or not, don't see how that's my choice," He detests feeling the loss of dominance in the conversation, but tries to keep his cool, "But it's nice to finally get acquainted."

For obvious reasons, Hook steered clear of anyone who was on the police squad, unless they were also on his payroll. The only intel he knew about Pevensie was that he had weeded out Hook's contacts on the squad quickly after election, much to the both of their chagrin.

"I guess you don't. But uh, the logic we're following is that you're in need of a little help right now. It's not a crime," Not in the literal sense, at least, among all the other plethora of crimes they've committed. Though in some ways, pointing out that Hook is in a vulnerable place is more likely to get Lorcan a death sentence than anything else. Best not to harp on that for long, so he gets back on track quickly, "Look, we know what it's like to have everyone's eyes on us, and Snake Eyes has always been able to stay one of the biggest businesses in town. It's advantageous for both of us to align our businesses, especially if we're going to need a new strategy on handling the pressure from the city."

He was a little right that getting a little support from the slimy bastards running the casino wouldn't hurt right now. The name of the place was accurate though, Hook thought they were all snakes. He only wanted to work with people he could command with authority.

"Tell them I'll think about it. I know where to find them," He gives a wave of his prosthetic, sending the messenger off. He would need his own strategy before proceeding, "And I want a list of who's on my payroll that's also on yours. Whether or not I agree to the... alignment."