feeling like neon gold;

   The elevator doors opened with a ding, opening to the floor of Owen’s fashion office. With her stiletto heels clicking against the marbled floor, Abigail strode right past the receptionist, ignoring her halting pleas. If she didn’t know who she was, then she ought to get fired. Besides, like she’d ever need an appointment to have to talk to her brother. 

   Swinging open the office door, Abigail burst into the room without so much as a ‘hello’. ❝Tell me why you weren’t at the airport to greet me?❞ Despite the question, the female actually wore a pleasant look on her face as she approached her twin. ❝I’m gone for a few months and you forget all about me? How rude.❞ Her tone, however, was anything but.

When Isaac walked in an caught sight of the brunette  sitting at the bar staring at her phone he let out an exasperated sigh. He couldn’t remember when the last time was he saw her. He took in a deep breath before approaching her completely. “You know, you really should pay closer attention to your surroundings, Gatita.” He said with directed tone. She was dangerous on her best day, but right now, he didn’t know what to expect from her.

✦

   ❝I’ll take it into consideration.❞ she breezily stated. resting her gaze unto him for a brief pause. Not that she was worried in any way about being in danger of any form; it wasn’t like she feared much, really. Giving her the attention he more or less wordlessly asked for now, Abigail simply eyed Isaac from head to toe, already judging his outfit. After all, he had torn her away from her phone now. ❝Anything else? Or are you just gonna stand there?❞ She could feel is own apprehension, thus her continuance in eyeing him under her scrutinising gaze.

Aanya raised her hand and shook her head. “No, no, I would hate to distract you from your precious device,” she answered with a chuckle, half teasing the other as she lowered her hand, only to grab the bartender’s attention to order herself a glass of whiskey. Once that was over, she leaned back in her chair and turned her head back towards the annoyed socialite. “I’m curious, do you prefer talking to people over social media or in person?”

✦

   ❝Good.❞ she uttered, before focusing again on her device. Not like she cared, really, when Aanya knew better than to pry her away when she was zoned in like this. Was it her fault? Her father was checking in to see if their latest client had come through. Anyone who knew her would know that she wasn’t the kind you could just pry out of her focus. Hearing the other’s query, Abi barely missed a beat, as she replied, ❝I prefer neither, especially when both are interfering with what I’m trying to do.❞ All the while, her fingers continued to tap away at the screen, barely lifting her gaze then.

Leaning against a building, Spencer looked towards the nearest person. “Sure is really humid out still,” Spencer pointed out, fanning himself as he did so. “Want a smoke?” He asked, pulling out his cigarettes for himself and offering the park to the person next to him. “I’m tryin’ to kick the habit, so I’m sorta hoping to get rid of this last pack.” 

@rivalsofnycstarters·

✦

   ❝A doctor that smokes always makes me laugh.❞ she quipped, smiling to herself. Not like she could hold that comment back.Though the fact that Spencer was willing to kick the habit to the curb was commendable, she still wasn’t going to be taking up the half a trash he was extending her way. ❝Just chuck it in the trash.❞

@rivalsofnycstarters·

Piece of shit car. She’d just dropped over a grand to fix the many problems her car had. With a trip out of town planned, she expected that it would hold up better now that the mechanic had given her the all go. What she hadn’t accounted for was the fucking nail in the road that had given her a slow leak which she only noticed because someone had flagged her down. Now, she sat on the edge of the car waiting for someone to come help after she’d sent out a text to her entire contact list. Lifting dark hues as a car approached, an hand extended to flag them down while the other disappeared around her back to pull her shirt away from the gun that was tucked into her back. One could never be too careful.

✦

   On her way to see her brother at his office, Abigail was well on the road when her phone buzzed. As the car came to a halt by a red light, she quickly glanced at the screen, only to find a message from Ivanna. And though she wasn’t the most charitable or helpful, she could at least give a little damn, and nothing more.Seeing as the other’s location was en-route anyway, she decided to swing by, not clear exactly if she was going to helping or just passing by like the nosy lil thing she was. 

   Spotting her by the location she said she’d be at, Abi stopped the Audi just in front of her. ❝Got your text.❞ she announced, as soon as the windows rolled down, one hand on the steering wheel as she peered out. ❝You’re lucky I was passing this way. Do you need a lift or what?❞

⊰

Miguel felt the corners of his mouth inching upwards with Abigail’s attention remaining focused  on the illuminated screen. “—I know you do,” A smooth recount was spoken in a lowered tone while his looming figure fell into the rounded seat beside the brunette. His foot lifted to balance on the wood bar that supported the measly weight her frame set against the stool. The sight of crystallized hues locked with the depth of his own caused the retired entanglement to linger in the back of his mind. He allowed an amusement breath to release through parted lips when a hand causally raised to motion towards the approaching bartender. “Long time no see,” 

✦

   -- I know you do. Only one person could ever speak to her like that, and only one person held such smooth timbre in their voice. And though her initial reaction was that of fondness and of nostalgic remembrance of their trysts and various rendezvous, it was immediately replaced by the knowledge that she had recently gleamed from a fellow member within the gang. News that had traveled as far as Los Angeles, one that earned an irate reaction (and a glass smashing or two) from the socialite.

   Unfortunately for him, Abigail wasn’t exactly known for her suppressed temperament. ❝Shut your pretty mouth. I’m mad at you.❞ Her tone was righteously livid, to say the least. ❝Word travels, and I can’t believe you.❞

//

“Yeah,” Peter said simply in response to her declaration of disbelief as she finally took in their current state. He was trying not to get too jostled by the crowd around them, easy enough for a guy his size, but he also feared that she would be bumped into and her shirt or bag’s tie thing would rip. She didn’t seem the type to handle that well. Honestly, right off the bat he pegged her as a bit neurotic and maybe a bit… self-involved. Was it wrong to judge her from two seconds of listening to her? Probably, but Pete called ‘em as he saw ‘em. Still, at least she said pleased as she told him what to do.

“Hold still, hun.” Peter said, being sure to keep his caught up arm still as well as he reached around to free the fabric of her shirt with a delicacy that may have been surprising to some. His work was very physical and most people only saw the aspects of it that required brute strength- throwing and hauling hoses, kicking down doors, prying apart car wrecks- but Peter was also a trained emergency responder. Not to mention he had taken great lengths to learn how to do all the delicate and intricate braids when he first adopted Samantha. Looking over the freed hem, Pete didn’t see any obvious damage and therefore offered the woman a proud grin. “Your turn. I can’t see where I’m hooked on that tie thing without twisting my wrist all around.” He informed her.

✦

  Just as instructed by the complete stranger, Abigail stood still with bated breath. Eyes squeezed to a close with a grimaced look on her pretty features, she hoped to God her blouse wouldn’t be ripped. Really, she could dispose of it easily after, but she couldn’t be bothered to have to go home and change when she had a bevy of appointments to attend to later on.

  Fortunately, the man heeded her pleading request just as well, having successfully removed the stuck hem. With a sigh of relief, she carefully inspected the site, rather pleased to find that there wasn’t much damage at all to the fabric, save for that tiny dot of a rip she was sure she could get one of Owen’s people to fix later on. ❝Not a bad job.❞ she mused, before turning to him now.

  Returning the favour then, deft fingers untangled the scarf beautifully tied to her handbag. It, however, wasn’t as fortunate as her blouse. ❝Darn it.❞ Managing to unhook his watch from the delicate fabric, a few seconds later, and he was free. ❝There we go.❞ Upon close inspection now, she found the rip on the scarf to be bigger than she anticipated, though really, it was just an inch of a gash on satin.❝And there we go.❞ she added, folding the detached accessory now, before thrusting it in his direction. ❝Here. As a token of my appreciation for not ripping my blouse, and a little memento for you to remember me by.❞ Not like she was going to have any use for it anyway.

//

Looking at the woman so enraptured by whatever was on her phone, Peter quickly determined exactly why they both found themselves in the situation that they were currently in. Distraction, plain and simple. “I was just wanting to let ya know that your shirt is caught on that and I think my watch is somehow caught on your bag.” Peter explained. The place was crowded and quarters were tight so all it took was for them both to be distracted, him by trying to get a drink, and her by her phone, for them to end up in this entanglement. “Don’t move and I’ll unhook ya from that, but I think you’re gonna have to free me from your bag’s apparent great taste in watches.”

✦

   Puzzled by his statement, Abi quickly glanced down, only to find the hem of her white pussy bow blouse pulled and latched onto the jagged edge of the bar top. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his watch, too, was hooked onto the scarf of her Hermès handbag. ❝Oh, no.❞ So maybe he wasn’t lying after all; here she thought she’d be impressed by the line he had used on her. ❝Please be gentle. This,❞ gesturing to her pristine blouse, ❝is brand new. And that,❞ glancing to her bag, ❝well, it’s old and really last season but it’s my favourite.❞ she said, barely caring for his watch. Looking up so as not to look at the anticipated damage to either of her favourite things, she uttered, ❝Do it gently.❞

✦

   ❝Okay, I’ll bite--❞ Abigail sighed, her attention wholly honed in on the mobile in her hand. 

    All she wanted was a second or two for a drink to cool down from her flight back into New York. She just hadn’t quite decided whether or not she liked their disruptive tone. Matched with a highly annoyed eye roll, she might as well give them whatever time of day they wanted from her.  Finally tearing her gaze away from her beloved phone, her flickered gaze met the other’s eyes.

   ❝What is it?❞