winnie carmichael

Minnie laughed at the question. "definitely the weed. Well, that, antidepressants, and a really good therapist." Minnie didn't want to make assumptions about the person in front of her, but just from her few comments, it didn't seem like she had a lot else in her life that kept her calm. "Sounds like you work with some incompetent people. which makes sense as far as i know about politicians." minerva got to her feet and motioned for bee to follow her inside, asking someone to take the front while she led her to the back room and up the stairs. it was a nicer view from the roof and she grabbed her bag on the way.

“𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 big popularity contest. everyone fakes it until they make it. that, and nepo hires.” she couldn’t help but think of her least favorite chief of staff. “it’s not usually this bad, but with the fires and everything, everyone’s panicking.” she eyed the brunette for a moment. not a journalist, so it was probably fine. and besides, anyone with half a brain could tell city hall was scrambling. so were the police. and the gangs. and every important person in new york that pantheon could touch. “but you didn’t hear that from me.” she followed her up the back stairs. bee’s color-coded calendar had not accounted for this impromptu rooftop hangout with a stranger.

"shit, i wish. there's a great spot down the block from here, my friend Yesenia owns it. Some of the best food I've ever had." She pointed at her own plate that was littered with crumbs. She had gotten a few extra just for her. "and is the person who told you this someone you think has your best interest at heart?" minnie was obviously a stoner but she wasn't someone who liked to push it on people. She figured if people sought her out, then she had a responsibility to do right by them. it was good business but it was also what her parents had taught her. "but we can definitely find a way for you not to have a panic attack. though some of that depends on you. are you generally good at calming your mind?" minnie thought she knew the answer but wanted to hear her reply first.

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐟𝐟. “god, no one has my best interest at heart,” she said, flicking her wrist like she was shooing away a fly. it wasn't self-pity. it was just the truth of things. not many people liked bee, let alone had her best interest at heart. “honestly they just want me to mellow out so i don’t make their lives miserable at work,” she explained, picking up a package and absentmindedly reading the words like she knew the difference between sativa and indica. “but it’s one of those ‘if you were good at your job i wouldn’t have to yell’ situations, so it really can’t be helped.” to the other’s question, bee stared at her for a moment, almost wanting to laugh. calming her mind? that was certainly not one of bee’s skills. “well, i work at city hall. and the city is burning down. so my mind lately has been like the energizer bunny. on meth.” she eyed the girl. pretty. the kind of calm that bee had always found either deeply suspicious or deeply enviable of, and right now she wasn’t sure which. “what about you? are you naturally zen or is it just the weed?”

Breslin only had time to shuck her suit jacket and drop into her office chair in a heap before Bee entered in a hurricane, looking about as put-together as the mayor felt. She watched, smile slightly bemused, as the younger woman rattled off the highlights of a chaotic day and leaned forward to rest her elbow on her desk, chin on her hand. "I have a second," she said, eyebrows lifting briefly before her gaze dropped to the empty chair on the opposite side of her desk. "Sit. Breathe. This is a marathon, not a sprint. Do you want something to drink? Or..." She leaned back in her chair and pushed away slightly to roll backwards a few inches, then opened one of her lower desk drawers. "I have a package of Belvita crackers, a granola bar, and a sleeve of saltines, plus an unopened bottle of... uh, whiskey, looks like." She straightened and heaved a heavy sigh. No amount of parental-variety banter could really soften any of this. "What do you have for me?"

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 across from breslin’s desk. “oh i’m breathing, trust me. i thrive under pressure,” her lips curled and parted into something resembling a grin, but she knew it looked hollow, not quite reaching her eyes. bridget ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it down. she probably looked insane, which was not a good look when talking to the fucking mayor of new york city. but this was the biggest crisis bee ever had to manage. “really, i’m fine. my husband dropped off lunch,” she gushed, though there was no real sentiment behind the words. “he’s been, like, so attentive through all of this.” in reality, bee had threatened to pass out if he didn’t bring her something, and he had trudged down from wall street to drop off a pathetic salad. “okay, so. the families of the three dead have been notified. and i told everyone with a pulse not to leak names unless they want my foot up their ass. community affairs is setting up victim support lines, borough liaisons are compiling damage reports. i’m pushing for one central resource page.” and when she pushed for something, she made it happen. “i have a statement drafted. the pr girl still needs to read it. and i’ve been trying to get in contact with francis, but he’s, evidently, blocked my calls, it seems. have you seen him?”

𝐛𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 gene for shame. she’d embarrassed herself professionally, socially…you name it, she’d done it. as a kid she’d marched across pageant stages in homemade dresses and makeup applied like cake frosting while the rich girls sparkled under professional spray tans and rhinestones. she’d learned early that humiliation didn’t actually kill you, and if people were already going to call you crazy, you might as well commit to the performance. psycho, sure. but the bimbo part felt misogynistic. “oh really?” she leaned in lightly, practiced but not entirely fake. “do you go there a lot? maybe i need to start tagging along. it’ll help if i go with a regular.” she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, attempting coyness despite the fact subtle had never been her natural state. “i sometimes struggle with the whole being nice thing,” she admitted self-deprecatingly. “but don’t let that scare you off. i can be nice when i want to be.” a slight tilt of her head. “sweet, even.” strategically, she kept her left hand low by her side, the diamond on her finger turned out of sight. not because she felt guilty about it, but because she didn’t want her stupid marriage to get in the way of potentially getting a hot detective to take her for coffee.

“𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 way,” she lied easily. though honestly, people disliking her had never exactly kept her up at night. “what, this?” she lifted her left hand, the diamond ring glinting under bar lights as she gave an instinctive eye roll. “no. i mean, yes, technically i’m married. in new york a wealthy husband is basically an accessory.” her mouth twisted into something between a smirk and a grimace. “like puh-lease. trust me, they’re incredibly easy to find if you know what crevices to dig around in.” finance guys. crypto freaks. podcast hosts. rich old men with one foot in the grave. she drained the rest of her drink in one go, already scanning for the bartender before the glass even hit the counter. “do you consider thinking about sex to be ‘the gutter’?” she asked, leaning forward against the bar. “that’s kind of puritanical of you.” she ordered a jack and coke. “i only bring it up because i can see right through you.” she shrugged. “or are you always an annoying little shit?”

Location: Outside of Minnie's Garden Dispensary Open Starter for @pantheonhqstarters

𝐛𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 drinker. weed had never appealed to her. she pictured it making her slow and heavy-lidded, sinking into a couch somewhere, useless, like those commercials. but her work stress had gotten bad enough that someone had…suggested it. their exact phrasing was, smoke a fucking blunt and chill out, you bitch. but that wasn’t what mattered. what mattered was that she was actually going to try it. behind the table sat a woman who was, presumably, the owner. she was in the middle of rolling a joint, and she was good at it. “i’ve been told i’m in need of thc, and i’m looking for anything that will make me feel mellow without giving me a panic attack,” she explained, eyeing the empanadas. she had just gotten food poisoning not long ago. but she also hadn’t had lunch. “you made these?”

𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 needed to have their license revoked, if you asked bee. “fellow member?” she asked with performed faux-confusion. “i work at city hall and i have no idea what you’re referring to,” she hissed out of the side of her mouth, syllables enunciated like she was saying it for the sake of anyone listening before continuing on, tone of voice back to normal, “and anyway, why would i want to bond with you?” a frown pulled at her face, trying to decipher what ‘you look like the type’ even meant in that context. “i mean…you look like a little shit. so…yeah?” she said like duh. she didn’t know any actual 4chan users, why would she? she just assumed they were little assholes like him. “oh my god, dude, if you want to fuck me so bad, just say so. like, you have shockingly good teeth for a british guy. but i know incel computer guys don’t really know female anatomy.”

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 a moment, not even angry just bewildered, like she was trying to figure out if he was serious or if she’d slipped into some kind of social experiment. “is there something, like, clinically wrong with you?” she asked finally, brows pinching together. “no, genuinely, what the fuck is happening right now?” she tilted her head back slightly, like she was appealing to some higher power for patience. “are you doing that thing where you insult a woman because you think it makes her want to sleep with you? is this negging? are you fucking negging me?” she pursed her lips around the bottle of beer and chugged back a mouthful. “are you an incel? i know you do…computer shit,” she said, words dripping with the same tone one might use for something vaguely disgusting and unpleasant.

𝐛𝐞𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 he was the one inconveniencing her, lips parting in disbelief before she let out a short, incredulous laugh. “oh, don’t worry, it wasn’t important,” she waved a hand, already pivoting, because god forbid she repeat herself for a man chewing trail mix like a damn woodland creature. the past forty-eight hours had bee tight-shouldered, overcaffeinated, snapping at interns and smiling through press briefings like she wasn’t one badly phrased question away from telling a reporter to go fuck themselves on live tv. and then there was her husband. nothing killed libido faster than a man who said how can i support you right now? bee didn’t want support. she wanted a distraction. so when she’d spotted isaac quiet, solid, and not immediately irritating, she followed without overthinking it. “i was just wondering where the fuck you can get a decent cup of coffee around here. not this high acid crap.”

"You know," Val's eyes had been locked onto the drink in her hands, an expression of something unreadable on her face when that question hit. "If I'd know you wanted to come, you could have come along." It was a general offer should the need ever arise again, though given the way each public event she attend seemed to play out Valeria truly had to think hard about whether she was still in favor of such appearances.

“𝐨𝐡 𝐢, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢 kline,” bee said, because of course she did. she physically could not resist a name drop if her life depended on it. she never elaborated, though. “the invite was never the issue, i just got food poisioning the night be-fucking-fore. can you believe that? bad sushi.” she rolled her eyes, the wound still raw. the bomb scare was whatever. she just wanted to be photographed at the party of the year. post it on facebook so the girls back home could see. the ones whose idea of marrying up was a minivan and a costco card. “sushi tatsu in brooklyn. avoid at all costs. i’ve left, like, ten bad google reviews under different names,” she said, completely serious. somehow, in the middle of everything, she’d made time for that.

𝐛𝐞𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 was enjoying her time at the bar. how could she when she was inudated with calls and emails? breslin had had her at the hospital, talking to victims of the fire like she was a trauma counselor. she needed something to take the edge off the hospital feeling, that particular combination of buzzing fluorescent lights and other people’s germs. though she wasn’t above barefoot brawling in a parking lot, back in the day. that was neither here nor there. she’d known who alfie was but she hadn’t had much of a reason to actually talk to him before tonight. he seemed…grating. “what the fuck are you talking about?”

       the  usually  mild  tempered  cash  gannon  was  very  put  out  by  having  to  get  up  from  his  desk  and  make  his  way  out  to  the  front  door  where  the  security  was  having  an  issue  with  someone  trying  to  gain  entry.  he'd  taken  the  bandage  off  after  the  first  day  from  around  his  ribs,  it  really  did  nothing  for  him.  cash  was  tough  and  calloused  enough  that  the  pain  of  the  broken  rib  didn't  really  bother  him.  it  was  the  deep  lacerations  after  being  sliced  up  by  glass  and  were  now  stitched  and  bandaged  that  were  causing  him  discomfort.  so  when  he  was  met  at  the  door  with  an  angry  petite  blonde  a  shoving  a  card  in  his  face  he  didn't  go  to  his  default  of  charming  around  a  beautiful  woman.  instead  he  looked  more  annoyed  than  she.  "what's  the  problem?"  speaking  to  his  security  as  he  looked  over  the  card  he'd  snatched  from  the  woman's  hand,  the  big  man  had  leaned  over  and  said  something  privately  into  his  ear.  "dumpster  fire  is  an  interesting  choice."  the  words  were  flat,  he  probably  needed  another  dose  of  pain  meds.  "you  work  at  city  hall,  right?"  considering  the  information  told  to  him,  it  wasn't  as  though  they  hadn't  had  government  officials  in  before  or  many  special  clientele,  cash  just  didn't  want  to  deal  with  extra  bullshit  at  the  moment.  "you  can  understand  why  we're  not  throwing  down  the  red  carpet  for  you,  yeah?"  because  what  if  she  were  trying  to  get  eyes  around  the  club,  meeting  someone  in  a  clandestine  manner  that  he  didn't  know  about,  what  if  she  was  here  on  business  but  being  sly  about  it?

𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞, even though he clearly clocked city hall. had she met him before? bee searched her memory for a second but came up totally empty. who the fuck was he? “yeah, i do,” she confirmed, then tilted her head slightly, squinting at him. “sorry, do we know each other? were you at one of the town halls or something?” a brow arched. “god, hopefully not the one last week in fucking bed stuy where the pta mom threw her smoothie at the the mayor’s community liason.” not that bee liked town halls anyway, that was what the community liaison was for. she only showed up when things were on fire. which, in this city, was every other day. “anyway, trust me, i wasn’t expecting a red carpet. but i also didn’t expect to get attitude because my id won’t scan. like, be serious.” she gestured vaguely toward herself. “do i look under twenty-one to you? go ahead, you can be honest. flattery doesn’t get me off.” for once, bee had no angle. no constituent to charm, no camera to perform for. she just wanted a night out, maybe a dance if the mood hit. she needed to get out of her own head for a few hours. the pilates-and-pressed-juice version of bridget was for the snobs. the real one had a little more grime to her. “i’m also not a fucking cop and not a fucking prude. seriously, i’m just trying to get away from—” she motioned vaguely to the city around her. “—all the shit. for one night.”

       the  more  she  remained  and  talked  the  more  sonny  continued  to  read  and  assess  her.  falsities  and  plays  were  easy  to  spot,  it  helped  that  she  was  the  type  that  liked  to  speak  to  fill  in  spaces  because  in  that  she  also  unknowingly  gave  things  away  about  herself.  maybe  she  wouldn't  expect  someone  that  looked  like  sonny  to  be  so  detail  oriented  and  to  have  such  a  sharp  memory  but  he  nodded  along  like  a  rapt  audience.  "what's  that  supposed  to  mean?"  a  man  that  didn't  look  like  he'd  be  surprised  by  much  was  actually  a  probable  understatement  but  the  easy  comment,  something  to  break  any  tension  to  keep  her  talking  came  with  the  faintest  of  smirks.  sure,  sonny  looked  weathered  and  like  he'd  been  through  a  lot,  but  he  was  fairly  certain  she  hadn't  gotten  a  good  look  into  his  eyes.  that's  where  the  real  stories  were.  "what's  this  guy's  name,  the  one  you  were  supposed  to  meet?  just  curious  if  i've  actually  seen  him  in  here  before."  another  swig  of  his  beer  he  listened  to  her  order  and  his  brow  only  raised  slightly.  maybe  he  was  about  to  get  more  than  he  bargained  for  when  it  came  to  conversation.  "five,  almost  six  years  now."  he  and  everyone  else  had  forgotten  that  he'd  just  had  a  birthday.  "you  seem  halfway  intelligent  so  i'm  sure  you  can  understand  why  a  new  yorker  might  not  like  a  floridian..."  even  if  so  many  of  them  went  that  way  south  during  the  winter  or  when  retirement  came.  sonny  hadn't  actually  minded  it.  spent  time  there  for  training.  there  was  no  reaction  to  being  told  her  boyfriend  had  been  killed,  which  would  likely  tell  her  that  sonny  wasn't  fazed  or  he  already  knew.  he'd  leave  that  for  her  to  make  a  judgement  call.  "drink's  on  the  way."  one  glance  and  he  saw  the  bartender  with  glass  in  hand  turning  their  direction.  a  chuckle  actually  rose  up  at  how  on  the  nose  her  comment  was  about  the  police.  "the  parking  force  are  the  only  law  enforcement  that  actually  hold  up  the  standards  of  their  posts  strictly.  double  parked  for  one  second  too  long..."  head  shook.  "florida's  gotta  learn  wer're  too  busy  for  that."  an  audible  groan  came  out  of  him  next  with  the  menthol  comment.  briefly  he  rubbed  his  fingers  at  the  space  between  his  eyebrows  and  had  to  refrain  from  dragging  the  blonde  out  of  the  bar.  "you  really  don't  have  a  clue  how  to  be  likable,  do  you?"  it  was  painful  seeing  one  of  his  marlboros  go  to  someone  who  couldn't  appreciate  it.

𝐛𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 how to shut up. only in rooms that mattered could she rein it in, file her edges down into something polished and more palatable. everywhere else, though, she let it run. ranting, rambling, filling the air whether anyone asked for it or not. she clocked him again, sideways. he hadn’t walked off. hadn’t tuned her out. if anything, he seemed more keyed in. that alone told her enough. he was trying to figure her out. fair. she was doing the same. “whatever you want it to mean,” she said, not coy, just flat and direct. a small shake of her head followed, a soft tsk under her breath as she clicked her tongue. “can’t reveal professional secrets. wouldn’t want you knowing who i’m backroom dealing with around city hall.” a faint smirk. “but i’ve got my connects.” it was a humble brag, but also a strategy. maybe he’d mention that to elijah, and they’d think she was more connected, more important than she was. “so that’s probably why we haven’t met,” she went on. “i was hanging out here in…what, like twenty-fucking-twelve. you like it around here?” she glanced at him again, mouth quirking. “wow. halfway intelligent. look at me, working my way up from cunt.” a quick grin cut across her face, sharp and fleeting. “no, i mean, floridians can be bad, sure, but new yorkers can be appalling,” she continued, settling more comfortably into the bar now. “i went into the subway once and never went back. hence the fucking car.” she lifted a finger suddenly, like a thought just caught up to her. “wait. don’t tell me. you’re a new yorker and i’ve just deeply offended you.” honestly? her luck. but she wasn’t about to take it back. people who thought the big apple was god’s gift to civilization could choke on their dollar pizza. she was just here for the proximity to power you couldn’t find in florida. “you’re one to talk. cowboy killers, really? it’s a bit of a cliche, don’t you think?” a biker in a dive bar smoking marlboros. “got a light?”