i get more angry

Ava reaches for her phone but she changes her mind and, instead, kneels down next to one of the bodies. "He was gonna run away— and you taught me how to do that!" The throat-jab. Lovely memory with her boss. She drops the corpse's hand back to the ground and looks around at the scene they've caused. "And I don't need to show off, I'm already Sam's favorite," arms fold over her chest, tantrum style.

Red, everywhere. Together, the pair stands smack in the middle of what's now an active crime scene — murder weapons in hand, and all.

"Suicide, darling," Lee barks, sibling-like, as if accusing Ava of being the sole ruiner of their plans. Needless to say, the mess that unfolded was very much a two-person type of job. "It was meant to be suicide. You call Sam and make some bloody story up. Our hands slipped." About twenty-five consecutive times.

Ava wipes her nose with the back of her hand, essentially smearing more red over her skin. "Why do I have to call him?" she asks for no other reaosn than complaining at each other is what they do best. Or— second best, to this. Ava frowns, knife still twirling between her fingers.

"Fine, and I'll tell him how you wanted to show off." Objectively untrue and extremely unlikely that Sam would believe her anyway.

If it's a competition, sometimes it's smart to let the other person think they're winning. Ava breaks their eye contact first, an illusion of surrender or compliance, when in reality she's only calculating her next move. "You have nothing to worry about." A brief pause and a chuckle. "I'll protect you if it comes to that."

She'd just ordered herself a gin fizz when she heard her name. Instinctively she turned, a picture perfect smile on her face that only deepened when she took notice of who had said it. "Trouble? Little old me?" She turned back when the bartender placed her drink in front of her and placed a generous tip in the jar before turning back to Ava. "So tell me--what trouble did I cause last time?"

she noticed the other woman by the sink and kept her expression warm, even if there was a touch of caution behind her eyes. “gum?” she echoed softly, like she needed a second to catch up. after a brief pause, she opened her clutch, fingers brushing over the familiar wrapper. she pulled out a stick and held it out toward her. “yeah, i gotcha,” she said, a faint southern lilt slipping through despite her effort to keep it neat. “here you go.”

Ava looks back over her shoulder and offers the girl a smile, warm and harmless. "You're a life saver," she sighs contently, unwrapping it and popping it straight into her mouth. "... You look really familiar." Even if knowing people wasn't part of her job, she would still know her. "You're the girl who sings, right?"

Ava pauses. That is interesting. "If you're not my boss right now, what are you?" Surely he won't say friend. They're not enemies. A secret third thing? Ava tilts her drink up to her lips and takes a sip, before offering the glass to him.

She thinks of chemistry, of the last time she shared a bed with her husband, and can't think of anybody between soft sheets but the woman in front of her. Looks deliberately away, hopes to blame the flush of her cheeks on the wine. She needs to get out more.

"Rikers, yes." And how long has it been since she went to see him? Too long, not long enough. Audra swallows hard. She can't promise she won't have changed her mind in the morning. "I'd need to talk to Lee about it," she murmurs. Thinks of Lee, thinks of Sam - wonders, too, how the two know each other, but doesn't think to voice it. Leans against the railing, blinking slowly.

More to herself than either of them, she wonders, "What would you want in return? To do this for me?"

The name rings a distant bell. Lee Malkovich avoids her just as much as she avoids him — sometimes, Anaïs even dares feel like the hunter to his prey. "While I don't know him personally, I would think any murder would excite someone with a mind like that."

She looks to Ava, as if to confirm.

"In return?" She asks, slightly puzzled. "I'm not the devil, Miss Smythe. I'm not hoping to take your soul." A pause then, as Anaïs moves to lean against that very same railing, elbows brushing. "But I will be the devil's agent. The Devil says," — Anaïs brings a hand to her ear, as if listening into forbidden conversation — "'Murder shall set you free'."

Murder shall set you free. She gets it. They both get it.

Ava looks at Audra again, a small smile creeping up onto her lips. "You just have to say the word," she finishes Anaïs' thought as if they're a team that will set the machine into motion. Come the new year, she could be a widow.

When she leans away again, her smile hasn't faded an inch. She's a professional pretender, after all. "I can drink bourbon," she stands up straighter. Her character tonight has tasted bourbon only once before and she hated it, but she's trying to impress him. Ava, on the other hand, has trained for years to swallow hard liquors without making a face. "And if you want something friendlier, you can just have me."

And then there's them. She wonders what people think their connection is. Surely they can tell she is way out of his league for this to be a date.

a mix of arguments, tension, manipulation, gossiping, fighting, & general emotional messiness!

you  weren't  supposed  to  hear  that.

don't  look  at  me  like  i'm  the  only  one  lying.

want  to  tell  them,  or  should  i?

you  think  i  don't  know  what  you  did?

i've  hit  people  for  less.

oh,  i  thought  you  already  knew.

that's  funny,  you  didn't  say  that  last  night.

say  that  again.  i  dare  you.

you  wanna  talk  about  loyalty?

no  offense,  but  if  you're  the  last  to  know,  that's  on  you.

go  ahead  -  pretend  like  it  wasn't  your  idea!

they  deserve  to  know  the  truth.

you  didn't  hear  this  from  me,  but  -

oh,  so  now  you  care?

don't  flatter  yourself.  you  were  just  convenient.

you  crossed  a  line.

we  had  bets  on  how  long  it  would  last.

it's  not  even  a  secret  anymore.

you  don't  get  to  cry  about  it  now.

touch  me  again  and  see  what  happens.

say  it  again.  louder  this  time.

you  really  thought  nobody  would  find  out?

don't  act  so  innocent.

okay,  but  am  i  the  villain  for  laughing?

tell  me  who  else  knows.  right  now.

this  whole  time,  and  you  didn't  say  a  word?

don't  act  brave  now.

you're  really  gonna  do  this  here?

it  wasn't  supposed  to  get  this  far!

you  can't  rewrite  history.

oh,  i'd  never  say  it  to  their  faces.

it  was  supposed  to  stay  between  us.

we're  all  thinking  it,  i  just  said  it.

you're  not  as  untouchable  as  you  act.

do  you  even  feel  guilty?

they  warned  me  about  you.

go  ahead,  make  it  worse.

if  you  repeat  this,  i'll  deny  everything.

the  next  thing  out  of  your  mouth  better  be  an  apology.

you're  about  three  seconds  away  from  regretting  this.

you  keep  pushing,  and  i'll  push  you  back.

they're  going  to  find  out.

one  more  lie,  and  i  walk.

they're  lying  to  you.

you  need  to  back  off.  now.

you're  defending  them?  after  everything?

don't  try  to  hide  it.

tell  me,  was  i  just  a  placeholder?

you  really  think  sorry  fixes  this?

there's  nothing  left  to  say.

don't  act  like  you're  the  one  hurting.

i  don't  owe  you  any  explanation.

whatever  helps  you  sleep  at  night.

you  should've  seen  this  coming.

i  hope  it  was  worth  it.

i  told  the  truth.  just  not  all  of  it.

you'll  miss  me  before  i  miss  you.

smile.  you're  ruining  the  mood.

i'd  watch  that  tone  if  i  were  you.

it's  not  my  fault  you  believed  me.

you  have  such  a  talent  for  pretending  you're  innocent.

we  both  know  this  is  over.

i  never  said  i  was  a  good  person.

There had been no expectation they'd dance around her meaning - but said outright, she looks away first. Stares out, over the room, away from the two women. Words are tight. "Feels selfish to do it myself. You wanted to do it first." Who is she to take anything away from Ava? Anything at all?

"There's no way to do it, anyway," she admits, and in it, is admitting she's thought about it all before. "Couldn't get in to do it. Would have to wait until he's out and then- well, then- the timing would be far too obvious."

It's a wild, but likely accurate guess. Audra radiates the atmosphere of one who hasn't always been satisfied.

Do it, Ava says, and Anaïs draws her attention to the lines of Audra's face — any enhancements, changes that may come with such a suggestion.

"Why would that be selfish?" She asks, true curiosity, the type that only the walls of her office usually hear. "He took your life, from what I can see from afar. It could be argued that it wouldn't be selfishness, but fairness, if you were to take his."

Then, at the intricacies of prison, Anaïs waves a hand. "I'm sure I have enough good will with Samar that he would pull some strings for the greater good. Where is he, Rikers?" Looking between them, Anaïs straightens her posture some. "But I will only ask if it will be done. I take my deals and my quid-pro-quos very seriously."

She's about to speak, to say that there's ways to infiltrate a prison, that she's still in contact with some medical staff in the system and might be able to get them in — but Anaïs beats her to the offer. So Ava blinks and looks between the two of them, quiet for a few seconds, before she addresses Anaïs again. "Why do you have good will with Sam?"

Talking about someone as if they aren't there. Classic.

"Who's 'him'?" Anaïs asks then, curious. "The husband?"