his gasoline heart.

There had always be an innate need for control. It showed itself in even the smallest of gestures, unnoticed nuances to a carefully guarded whole. She walked with an act of bravado when she wanted. Samantha could be deviously charming when she wanted. She called attention when she sought it out, but had learned to fade into the background ⁠— a most favored magic trick. She could make herself scarce. Be it metaphorically, becoming faultless in a scenario, or disappearing altogether. Erasure and minimization were key to her vanishing act. Samantha hid parts of herself so well that she was sure they would never be found and thus rendering an open void. There were internal wounds she had yet to cauterize yet she would never let someone close enough to do so. 

The need to prove something was not a stranger to Samantha, and it was not an acquaintance she would ever have the pleasure of shedding familiarity of. Her eyes traveled over the backside of the state as she took a long pull from the flask, wondering what exactly they had been trying to prove with certain choices. “And failing,” Samantha echoed with a pointed nod of her head. “Hey, somebody has to do so. It might as well be me.” She let herself drape comfortably, deciding she was content enough in his company to relax. To give up the effort of maintaining aloof poise. A rarity. “I have taste where it matters,” Samantha countered. “I’ve stuck with you this long. At this point you know too much about me not to be kept close.” She had offered the remark flippantly, though the hidden depth of it resulted in one more tip of the flask before she surrendered it. “Is it bad that I’m just waiting for something — anything ⁠— to happen?” Perhaps it was her own cynicism, or perhaps it was the simple reality of the cast of characters partaking in this drama, but she was waiting for things to shift into the next act. Perhaps it would only come when the curtain fell as the evening came to an end. “That’d be great, actually.” Samantha let her gaze float back over the garden. “Believe it or not, I always did prefer larger parties of this kind of thing.”

Sam’s presence and the thin, insubstantial air of the night calmed something ever-stirring within him. She was a familiar thing in a place where familiar things were few and far between, and it served him almost like an anchor. Granted, he’d grown familiar with other things in Houston over the course of the last two years, but this was different. She was an artefact from before, and Nate always felt a bit more present in those long stretches of silence that they sometimes shared. It’s not that he wanted to go back, to some other point in his life, it was that he wondered if he was supposed to miss it? To mourn it? 

If there was something about her that he envied - and that wasn’t related to their profession - it was the calmness with which she slipped into her poise, into carefully designed obscurity. Maybe obscurity wasn’t the right word, he wondered. Maybe it was more of an ambiguity thing, a certain inexactness he couldn’t quite reach. He liked when that slipped sometimes, not out of malice - but because it felt easier to slip out of his own mask and allow himself to ease the tensions that usually ruled his posture and his countenance and his aloofness. “You’ve got a point there. At least you’re not obnoxious about it.”, he never played well with obnoxiousness, maybe that’s why he first started preferring her company back in med school. “Yes, I’ve always wondered about that... Why you stuck with me at all. I think others would wonder as well, we’re such different animals.”, the crease between his brows deepened, only half-serious, because he did wonder, but the truth was of no consequence. It didn’t change anything. He let out a chuckle, even if there was truth to her words, he couldn’t really fault her for them, they weren’t that different in this regard, “How very utilitarian of you Ashby.” His eyes slipped back to the house then, the glitter and glitz of the moving bodies that could be seen half-hidden behind the windows. “No, I think we all are. Maybe that’s why nothing’s happening yet.”, his eyes narrowed to slits, observing the ornate play with contempt of a man who wasn’t a fan of these sorts of saccharine games, “I don’t like it though. It feels dishonest. Which is fair enough, considering the players - but...” He never finished his thought, because he didn’t really know what were the words that were supposed to follow. He wasn’t designed for this game of pretence that played out inside, it left him out of his element and decidedly on edge. He offered the pack of cigarettes to Sam, taking out the old zippo and watching the flame quiver in the faint breeze. “I don’t know how I feel about it. I think it feels like I’m trespassing. And like I’m waiting for the first blood to be spilt.”, he ran his teeth over his lower lip and turned back around once again, “You always were better at this sort of thing, I don’t think I’ve got the patience or the equanimity for it.”

As she stood outside, Sofia welcomed the fresh night’s air, both on her skin and her lungs. The inside was crowded and hot, typical of any part as huge as this one. It was something she liked, something that made her feel somewhat alive. But sadly, doing a line in the middle of the room was not acceptable and the cliché of always going to the bathroom to do such a thing annoyed her. The outline of the man further was well known, Sofia both hated and liked who it belonged to. She knew Nate was here, she had made sure to be in his view as much as possible, dancing and flirting with whoever she could. Had he noticed her, that was still something she had to find out.

“So many people think a view can’t be bought. At least, until they see how we live.” Money could buy anything, it was something she learned almost before she could talk. Sofia took the flask and opened it, not bothering to ask what was in it actually. Nate said alcohol and despite the champagne to was flowing easily inside, she needed something stronger. The sip she took was longer than it usually should, but this was Nate and there was something in Sofia that too often made her want to push his boundaries. Had she been sober, she would have tried to drown the whole thing, just for the fun of it. But she had a few glasses already and she needed to sober up a little before going strong again. “I have something I can share too,” she said, her fingers running to the specially designed necklace that was around her neck, a delicate gold cross orned with diamonds. Inside was enough cocaine to last her, and someone else, the night. “But it is definitely spiked.”

“Are you not bringing the show outside for me?”, Nate’s form shifted in the dark, head tilted in a way that made a show out of him searching for anyone following Sofia. There had been no one, just her outline contrasted against the bright, vivacious lights of the house behind them - but he knew that already, he’d just wanted to make a comment about it. Some sicker part of him was amused by it, the part that came out for a rare play in her presence - it showed in the set of his mouth, corners softly uplifted, and in the way his eyes lit up with a certain kind of deviousness. It was still him, only sharper. “Come on Sofia--”, he purred her name, leaning slightly forward from where he was sitting, like an animal about to snap its teeth, “--there must be someone left in there that you haven’t tried to play with? Don’t tell me you’re losing your edge?” 

He weighed his options as she found her spot beside him, his eyes trained on the distant, blurry lights of the city - had they always been so soft-edged? Maybe it was just the alcohol. The real question, though, was - did he feel like playing along tonight? Was that even a question considering he was bored out of his mind and not nearly drunk enough for all this shit. He turned his head to watch her take on the flask, half expecting her to finish it then and there, and when she didn’t he simply raised an eyebrow and reached out to take it from her hand. “You’re just so charmingly spoiled, aren’t you?”, but that wasn’t really a question, nor was it really a compliment - it was in that elusive in-between where he liked to place his words, his intonation, whenever he was speaking to her. He took a swing, his eyes following her fingers as they played with the necklace - it was for the sake of indulging her, he knew she liked when he looked. “How... ironic. Almost blasphemous, I think.”, he’d meant the cross, laid out delicately against her sternum, a picture of improbability, a mockery of its usual quiddity. His fingers reached out to touch the pendant, a taunting gesture, his voice half-amused, “I see we’re taking out the big guns now. But I gotta say, at least you like to share.”, he put the necklace back in its place, readjusted it gently before his eyes went back to hers, “What if I said I’d think about it? Would that piss you off? The fairytales never say what happens when the princess doesn’t get her way - and I’ve always wondered.” 

The long hallway stretched out before Samantha, but they all tunneled into a single melding of similar ones she had walked before. How many oriental rugs had she traversed across in a lifetime? How many times has a quiver coursed up her spine as heels echoed across vast, marble expanses? The debutante days had been buried and put to rest, yet the ghost of those memories never existed in the realm of Houston. It was mere hours, yet worlds away from Dallas. These parties blurred beneath an apathetic haze despite the change of scenery. Curious hues glossed over latched doors, though Samantha gave a wandering thought as she maneuvered forward. Fond memories of clandestine debauchery had been housed behind such doors in times that had witnessed a wilder Samantha. A kinder Samantha. 

She had gravitated away from the throngs of empty pleasantries and let the emptiness of the evening air fill her. Samantha took a minute to compose herself, though she couldn’t help shooting an amused gleam when her eyes connected with another pair. “Money can’t buy taste,” the blonde offered idly with the shake of her head as she stepped closer. Samantha draped herself languidly across the seat of the bench — a mocking, grandiose act that echoed her sentiments of the evening. Samantha perked up and pulled the flask from its resting place. “You’re amazing,” she unscrewed the cap and shot a look up at Nate. “You’re alright too, I guess.” 

He’d recognised her by the sounds that accompanied her approach long before she even spoke. The air out here was thin and cold and quiet - any sound that disturbed it was a distinct call for his attention. And Samantha had always had a way of walking that was definitely a demand for attention - the brisk sound of heels against the ground - something impressive about it. But Sam had a way of adding that impressive element to things that must have stemmed from her past, was a byproduct of her upbringing. So it came hardly as surprise when he was met with the sight of her approaching, all amused gleam, and something idle about her. The easy indifference of someone accustomed to the glitz and glamour of this place, even if she did look a little out of place considering the garish nature of the setting.

“No, it can’t - but that doesn’t mean they’ll stop trying.”, once slight crease now deepened between his brows, as his gaze floated towards the illuminated back of the house, “And failing.” Not that it was of any consequence to him - he actually had no idea why he was commenting on it in the first place. Maybe because the blinding gold and glitter of every damn surface in this place was slowly but steadily giving him a headache. “Wow, that hurts. Ah, Ashby, what would I do without you? Always keeping my ego in check ever so diligently.”, he drew the cigarette to his lips with languid ease of someone who’d gone through a few of them already, amusement crossing his features, “Besides, I thought you had that elusive good taste? I’m very aesthetic, you know; you can barely see me in the dark.” He reached his hand out towards her, a silent request for the flask, even as his eyes never left the simmering surface of the pool, “I wonder what it’ll look like if someone decides to paint it all red - because that is a ticking time bomb in there.”, then, as if in afterthought, “You want a cigarette?”

“I hope, for both our sake, that the only problem we’ll have by the end of the night is how much time we wasted.” If anything, she would have preferred for him to go home with regrets of consuming too much booze to get through the slow night instead of the foreboding alternative but, even that was merely wishful thinking. The reality was that Carmen had no idea what the night had in store for either of them and that was not making her happy. Carmen let out a laugh, clearly finding the possible scenario amusing. “What, unsatisfied, middle aged trophy wives wanting to feel young again isn’t your thing? I’m shocked.” Releasing his arm once they got to the bar, she casually leaned against the counter and ordered herself a classic gin and tonic before shrugging shamelessly at his observation. 

“Maybe, maybe not but either way, it’s better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it, kind of like a condom.” Habit or not, having a gun even during public outings was a must for her “family” to stay defended at all times; Her Uncle Mat was around somewhere and she was for sure that he had a piece of his own hidden on his person as well. At this point it was more so second nature for her, a product of her environment and all that jazz. “And with all the who’s who in Houston crawling around, something tells me my ‘habit’ would be justified. But don’t worry doc, you stick with me and I’ll keep your hands clean.” A wink and a reassuring nod followed suit, a promise she hoped to keep.

He didn’t think twice before muttering ‘Cuba Libre’ absently in the general direction of the bartender, almost as if it were a knee-jerk reaction, his fingers playing along the top of the bar. Not nervous, but not exactly serene either. Itching. That was the word - he was itching for something. “Only that? Come on, have a little ambition - we can have a lot of different problems that make this charade less tedious, without the grievous ending. We just have to get creative.” It was as if Nate had an almost innate penchant for avoiding the more grave discussions with easy smiles and daringly aloof words - and he seemed to delight in using this particular talent often enough. But it wasn’t like the rising tensions in the crowd around them were lost on him, his suspicion was just hid carefully behind curiously wandering eyes and seemingly careless front he tended to put up. “I cannot, for the life of me, tell if that’s sarcasm. I think that’s why I like you Franco - it’s like a game. Is she calling me a man-whore right now?”, he seemed to give it a moment of thought, though by the way his lips curled in a smirk one could tell he already knew the answer, “Probably. Is it a fair judgement? Yep. Do I like the middle-aged trophy wives? Sure, sometimes. But I lack the energy and alcohol in my blood right now.” 

He reached for his drink with the enthusiasm of a desperately parched man when it was slid across the bar towards him all ice and aroma, and let himself delight in it before he even thought about the answer. “Now, this is the real deal.”, he looked over the rim of his glass at Carmen then, not bothering holding back the laugh, “Truly profound. You have a poet’s mind. Put that shit on my gravestone and I’ll be a happy man.” She had a point though, but Carmen had a way of having points a lot of the time, so Nate was hardly surprised by now, though still appreciative of the woman’s shared no-bullshit attitude. He sipped his drink, eyes slipping over the crowd of masked faces and bad intentions, he had no doubt about the last part. “What, because they’ll all be dead so I won’t have to save their lives because Hippocrates said so?”, he joked, but if he was being real - when shit went down, he wanted to be next to someone armed and capable, even if he was so himself. “On a more serious note - shocking, I know - this reeks of trouble. If I wasn’t prone to making bad choices in life I would’ve left by now. But you know what they say - curiosity killed the cat.”

Esmeray nodded at the male, indicating that she agreed with his words and assessment. She could imagine the hatred that would form in the workers hearts as they left to go to their homes after working in a place where people barely lifted the golden spoons to their mouth. Disgusting. “If I was working here, I’d probably steal a few things. I’m sure the silverware is worth more than what I make as a nurse in a week.” She chimed with laughter, though there was a slight hint of seriousness there. What could happen if she got caught however — that was the part she didn’t want to think about. “They can be pretty terrifying. Especially when you have two of them and there’s suddenly a moment of silence in the house, that’s really when my heart clutches in fear.” The brunette teased as she lifted the flute of champagne to her lips. “I am, surprisingly. But I think it’s the alcohol, you know, despite not wanting to get drunk.”

“You’re an RN?”, he asked - then, as if interrupted by his own stream of thoughts, went over the numbers he was familiar with in his head. It wasn’t like he was in the habit of browsing obscenely expensive silverware, or any silverware at that - but he could see the numbers being close enough. “Yeah probably, that sounds about right. I’m willing to bet you’re not the only one who had that idea, and that things will go missing tonight.” It’s not like he hadn’t thought about it, though it was more of a ‘for kicks’ kind of thing for him these days - but he’d decided to play nice tonight. The tensions if the air were high enough as it was. Maybe it would’ve been different though, if he’d been invited to a place like this when he was 16 and struggling to keep himself alive and pay for mom’s medical bills. “Ah, nothing quite like the sound of impending doom to get the heart going.”, he chuckled, a lighthearted sound of someone who could only be guessing about knowing the feeling, and would never know it either. “Works wonders for situations like this.”, he smirked, faintly, taking a sip from the flask as he looked out towards the shimmering pool, “Pleasantly buzzed is the place to be I think. Although I am waiting to see when will people start crossing that line.”

If Clarke was forced to nod and smile while another city councilman pretended that he really gave a shit about the topics they were speaking about, the blonde was going to implode. Her ability to be polite, what little ability she possessed, was slowly and surely being chipped away at. The estate itself was huge and Clarke had insisted that she absolutely needed to see the rest of is before the night was over. She moved quickly from room to room, maneuvering around groups of people until she finally found herself outside. Clarke’s eyes widened as she looked around at the different trees and plants that surrounded the property. She could only fucking imagine what it cost a month to keep the entire estate running. The scent of tobacco was what had initially drawn the blonde’s attention, noticing the thin stream of smoke and suddenly craving nicotine.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already have a flask of my own,” Clarke commented with a smirk, opening up her clutch to pull out a flask of her own, along with her pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “So, are you avoiding talking to people, too? Or just naturally anti-social?”

Nate twisted slightly in his place to look at source of the voice, an unfamiliar woman whose words drew a smirk to his lips, “Apologies. It’s a bad habit. Kinda hard to shake with all the stiff upper lips in there having the time of their life with the champagne, for some reason that escapes me.” It wasn’t really that Nate was bitter about it, he’d never been particularly invested in that world - other than, of course, cashing in on their desire to be oh so very original. Ironic, given all he’d run into was a bunch of penguins and Karens, eager to run their hands across people’s arms for whatever reason. He drew in the acrid smoke of his cigarette, enjoying ever second of it as he let out a chuckle at the woman’s words, “Oh I was born with the penchant for it, but this...”, he waved the hand holding the cigarette vaguely as if to mark his solitary presence here, “It’s a carefully nurtured thing. There’s an art to it, you know.” He was bullshitting, he knew he was - but the small talk he’d gone through for the past two hours had dulled his mind to this point. “Also if I have to answer another stupid question like - are doctors even allowed to have tattoos - I’m going to finish this flask, look for more, and see if my answers can get any more sarcastic.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he took a swing from the flask and directed his gaze to the woman, “Besides, you are here too. Care to elaborate? Indulge me please, I’m bored out of my mind.”

Blue eyes playfully rolled at the familiar voice as her hands released the mask before taking place on her hips. “Well, two out of three ain’t too bad and I’ll have you know that my insanity is completely situational, thank you very much.” Nate had been one of the very few people (like two? three?) who had an idea of how Carmen had been managing since the death of her late boyfriend, hell, he had been there when it happened. Even with her own tragedy, she couldn’t imagine the feeling of losing someone who she was, more or less, expected to save. Despite that, Carmen never held the loss against the specialist, knowing that her lover was already too far gone, but at that time she couldn’t help but to foolishly hope for a different outcome. Now they were both at this grandiose function as if everything was just fine. She’d hate to admit it but, at least she wasn’t alone. 

“Unfortunately I actually wanted to wait at least another hour before I went full booze hound but since you’re here now,” She downed the rest of her champagne before hooking her arm in his. “I won’t be alone, I think the bar’s thataway.” Nodding in the bar’s direction, her attention was finally brought to her companion’s pigment-less ensemble. “Cool mask but, Nathaniel I don’t think you have on enough black…”

Nate opened his arms slightly at her words, a cheshire grin spreading across his lips in a display of unabashed self-content, “What can I say Franco, my talents are many and varied.” He propped himself against one of the tables they were standing by, a sprawling figure of languid disinterest, eyes scanning the crowd with a look of mild amusement, “Understandable. Considering the... situation.” He was bored out of his mind, and not nearly drunk enough for any of this shit - alcohol just made it easier to make small chat, and play along whenever a bored, rich housewife asked him just how tall was he? “At least you know why you’re here - I have no idea why I’ve been dragged into this. Either I’m eyecandy for the bored elite, which is fine, or someone’s having me as backup in case shit goes south. Which is not fine.” If he thought he was bored, he definitely did not think getting caught up in the middle of a war zone was the kind of fun he needed right now. 

“Impressive restraint.”, his gaze drifted back to Carmen, eyebrow slightly cocked in feigned surprise before his lips morphed into a smirk, “I’m here to ruin that. Because I’m bored, and I don’t want to be the sad man drinking alone - or, god forbid, have a Karen drinking with me. They have the supernatural ability to be gone after two glasses of wine, and I don’t want to listen to the story of their self-discovery.” With their arms hooked, he pushed their way through the crows to the much-coveted space where the bar was hidden, somehow (thankfully) not particularly overcrowded. “I was thinking the same thing - good eye Franco. Don’t worry, it looks better next to my car - somehow, it’s even more black.” Looking down at her he offered only a look of mild amusement, “Besides, you’re the one to talk. I’m sure you have your gun stashed somewhere. Habits, right?”

Esmeray stepped out of the lavish home for a little breath of fresh air after having been stuck in conversation with an older gentleman for longer than she would have liked. It had all felt a little too seedy to her. Nevertheless, she was frozen into place when she peered out at the gorgeous view that was the backyard. While she’d expected the house to have been the piece de resistance, she hadn’t imagined that it would be the beautifully manicured lawn. Peering over at a male as he spoke up, she couldn’t help but laugh. “I wonder how much it takes to keep something like this in the shape that it is? You’d have to go over it every day with a fine tooth and comb.” She said with a shake of her head, visibly shaken by the sight. At the alcohol, she politely shook her head and smiled. “I’ve got two kids to take care of tomorrow, I don’t think I can afford an hangover.”

Nate thought about the woman’s words for a silent moment - what did it take? Because he had an infinitely smaller house, though arguably more filled with the greenness of plants, and keeping it in some semblance of an order with animals running around and his general absence from it, was a bitch. “My guess is going to be a lot of underpaid workers. Which is ironic, since I’ve seen a golden mirror in there that even Rococo would denounce with disgust, that alone had to cost a fortune.” Ironic, though not really surprising. This place reeked of corruption - unless the Mayor was in some serious cahoots with one or more of Houston’s bigger players, there was no way his job alone could cover it. He hummed softly, reaching for the flask, “Fair reason. Kids terrify me on their own, I’m afraid to think what horror they would pose with a hangover.” It was one of those half-truths - they did terrify him, but he’d also fought tooth and nail to see Liam’s kid just last month. If he had the ability to make her science project that much cooler, god damnit, it was his duty to do so. “Enjoying yourself here though?”

The backyard was a sprawling, shameless thing, illuminated by the warm, golden light of antique lamp posts - original, he guessed, plucked from some old city core, the kind big money could buy. And its purpose? A conversation piece. The whole damn house was a conversation piece, built with the intent to impress. Nate was of the opinion that it was unintentionally tacky, and intentionally impressive in its tackiness. There were summer sofas and lounge chairs lining the shimmering pool, but Nate found himself sitting on a backrest of a marble bench, the stone cold beneath him and absolutely refusing to warm up. He’d been looking out towards the gardens, all symmetry and carefully plucked greenness, dark in the night - it was the only thing he genuinely enjoyed looking at in this place. 

It was quiet out here, the music and the clamour of the gala only a distant, muffled noise so that the steps of the person approaching hardly went unnoticed, “The house is stunningly ugly, but the view is... something, I’ll have to give the Mayor that at least.”, he brought the cigarette to his lips, drew a smoke, his eyes still trained on the city that could be seen sprawling in the distance, “There’s alcohol in there, if you want, none of that champagne shit they’re serving inside.” He gestured vaguely, to the silvery flask that stood beside him on the bench, “It’s not spiked, don’t worry. Though I suppose that is something someone who spiked it would say.” 

OUTSIDE OF NATE’S PLACE, 8:54PM ON A TUESDAY NIGHT @blakexmd​

Following her fight with Xavier, Lo was feeling even more worse for wear than usual. Her heart was in tethers, while her hand was quite literally coming apart at the seams. She sliced it on a piece of broken glass after she chucked another bottle of bourbon against her front door. Following the very, angry departure of her now, ex-boyfriend (indefinitely). It was safe to say, she succeeded in driving him away this time.

In the beginning, she told herself, that was for the better. But now, she was seeing that maybe, she was wrong about that. Instead of, driving to a hospital (on account of her not having a car or a non-suspended license) Lo sought out the help of a friend nearby, who was an expert at stitching things back together. Or at the very least, keeping anything alive but himself at times. Luckily for Lo, Nate lived not too far from her in the Red Line district. The path to his place was one that felt all too familiar and she trekked it all by her lonesome in the crisp, cold night air. It had started to rain on her way, and so the cloth wrapped around her hand was wet just like her hair and her jacket by the time she made it to his front door and knocked several times.

If he wasn’t home, Lo was prepared to lay down outside of his front door, like a human doormat. Blood had always made her feel the most dramatic. Any sight of it on herself and she was convinced she was dying. It was a treacherously, pathetic habit.

Nate had a way of doing things briskly - driving, doing stitches, drinking, you name it. And walking was no exception to that rule, partly because he was taller than most and had a way of not caring if he left them behind, and partly because it was one of those inexplicable, strange habits that his dog greatly appreciated as it pranced energetically beside him. They’d been doing this for an hour, Nate finishing cigarette after cigarette and Ace selling his soul to anyone who showed even remote interest in him. And for the most part, Ace had a tendency to fall behind Nate, though as they neared the house his movements got keener, as if he could sense something, until he just ran in front of him to the doorstep. Well, that was off - he never wanted to go home. 

“I should’ve figured it was you. He got so excited I thought someone left a steak for him.”, his voice carried over the driveway when he spotted a familiar figure at his doorstep, but it wasn’t until a car drove down the street with its high beams on that he finally noticed Lo was looking a bit worse for wear, “You look like a sad, wet stray.” She did, even more so as Nate walked up the stairs and pushed back the wet hood of his jacket to assess the damage. He’d trained the tone of his voice to sound casual, easy enough if one had a tendency to sound aloof even when someone had a gun to his face - but his eyes searched hers briefly under the faint light of the porch lamp. Was there anything unnatural about the pupils? No, she just seemed... rattled. If he was worried, Nate did his best not to show it as he reached out to steady her by her shoulder, an awkward gesture of someone who wasn’t used to comforting anyone, “And you know how much I love collecting those, come on let’s go inside or people will think I really am collecting strays. God forbid, what will Karen down the street think of me? I’ll never get her famous casserole.”

Inside, the air was dry, and comfortingly warm - Ace ran off to the kitchen leaving a wet trail in his path and Nate reached out to help Lo take off the wet jacket, “Why not just call me? I have a car you know, a few of them.” In the dim light of the hall, she looked even more distressed than outside, and Nate did his best to keep his voice even as he took off his jacket, “Are you okay? I mean besides the whole... arm thing. I’m gonna get to that, I promise you won’t bleed to death.”

Location: Masquerade Ball — The Riveria Estate  Status: Open @gowstarters​

The night was rather young but that didn’t stop Carmen from grabbing, what would be her fourth, glass of champagne from the circulating drink tray. Taking a sip, the woman readjusted the mask adorning her eyes as azure hues scanned the room for anything, out of order, so to speak. Sure it was pessimistic to think that something could go opposite to plan but, with two rivaling clans drinking, dancing and conversing in the same space made Carmen uneasy. The theme of the night made it especially unnerving for not being able to make out the faces in the room put Carmen out of her element. Carmen could remember the days when she actually enjoyed such affairs such at this, even thought of throwing one of her own at one point but, that was before she lost her meaning of contentment in an abandoned warehouse. Long story short: Times were different now, much different. With what happened to one of her father’s operations and the deaths of many of their his people, attending an extravagant function that just so happened to be thrown after such an event seemed a little, odd. 

Carmen wasn’t exactly involved in the happenings of her father’s organization but that didn’t stop her inquiring mind. Unfortunately, her many questions would have to wait until the night was over unless her father’s right hand man decided to make an appearance which Carmen would surely work to her advantage. Apprehension aside, if anything were to go left at the party, Carmen knew she could count on the hidden gun holster strapped snug around her thigh, her customized pistol tucked inside, hidden by her ankle length dress. A lady is always prepared. Setting down her drink, a sound of annoyance escaped her lips as she readjusted her mask yet again. “Note to self: Custom is not synonymous to comfort. Beauty is pain, beauty is pain…”

Nate was not made for the stiffness of white shirts and carefully arranged bow ties and shiny dress shoes - he could look the part in them, imposing even, but something would always be just a tiny bit off. The sight of a tattoo beneath crisply white cuffs, the set of his shoulders, a casual indifference. One could either mistake him for someone who’d gotten so used to the grandeur that he did not care for it, or someone who just did not care for it, point blank. So he didn’t try to make himself look like anything other than what he was - a dark, tall figure, slinking through the shameless decadence of the house, a glass of champagne in his hand that he was desperately trying to get rid of, black suit and a black tie and a black shirt. 

Who was he kidding? Even if he claimed to despise the formality of it all, he would still always be a slave to his own vanity and aesthetics. He set down the glass with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, the golden liquid swirling, as if disturbed by his contempt for it. “I need something stronger.”, beside him, Carmen looked out of her element, almost as irritated as he was with the type of alcohol he was handed when he walked in - and that was a tough level of annoyance to achieve, “If this is the type of pain it entails, I’m not that into it. And that says something.”, for a moment his eyes dropped down to his cuffs as he readjusted them, “I see you’re talking to yourself. Either you’ve finally gone off the rails, or that’s not your first glass of champagne. Or...”, looking up he narrowed his eyes at the woman, “You’ve found something better to drink around here in which case I’m going to need to know where?” 

Nathaniel Blake attending the Masquerade ball at the Riveria Estate

She hazarded one short glance over her shoulder at the newcomer, her eyes sweeping over him and then back to the skyline. “That’s doubtful.” He didn’t look at first glance very different from the hundred or so other self-assured and handsome men in Houston. She didn’t trust a single one for what she could scent off them. They wanted in her pants, or had sniffed out some hint of her past, or were looking to intimidate her a bit. All disappointments in the end. “I’m not sulking. I’m smoking. And yes, I know it’s going to give me cancer, and I’m going to die. Funny how none of that is a surprise.” Her smile was sharp edged, a promise that venom lurked beyond it. “You must not have been raised here if you think Houston lets that kind of wide-eyed idealist survive. They’re just chum in the water.”

“Ah, ye of little faith.”, he drawled, his eyes trained on something in the distance, voice unaffected, “Besides, never said it was the good kind of interesting.” That’s what he gathered over the years anyway - he had a tendency to leave people unsure as to how to proceed when it came to him. Was that a joke? Was he serious? Did it matter? He lowered himself to the ledge then, a quick, fluid movement of someone who had a few decades of ledge-sitting under his belt. “I appreciate the effort to scare me away, it’s very commendable, truly - but I’m finishing the cigarette here.” He didn’t blame her for the animosity, though - it was a logical reaction, probably the smartest, and Nate was long past being affected by that sort of thing. “Ah, I’ve seen you’ve done your homework on the topic. There’s also the whole thing with cardiovascular diseases, but I’m guessing that’s not a surprise either?”, he smiled, though it was barely more than an amused twitch in the corners of his lips before he was focusing on the cigarette again, observing the cars down below, “Bold of you to assume I wasn’t raised in a place worse than this. Oh don’t get all worked up, I don’t know what you kids are up to these days, I thought being hopeful and shit like that was fashionable these days.”

Status: Open to all

Location: roof of the Half Moon Bar

@gowstarters​

Rose perched herself on the edge of the roof, swinging her legs over and letting them dangle as she looked out over the city. Houston was her home. She’d never been further than a three hour drive away from it’s limits. Some days she hated it so much she’d like to burn it all down. And then during other moments, like now, she found it savagely beautiful. The night wasn’t going well with the alpha nowhere to be seen and the more founded members taking up all the oxygen in the room. She’d come up here for a breath, and a cigarette, and maybe a little peace. 

But as she heard the roof door opening she sighed, knowing the later of those wishes would go unfulfilled. Without turning around she took another drag from her cigarette and said, “If your interesting company and you won’t hassle me about smoking at my age then you can stay.”

“Don’t worry, I’m the most interesting company you’ll find in this god-forsaken place.”, it was quite a statement, but Nate had a penchant for making those, straight face and so much dryness in his voice that if one didn’t know him well enough, the sarcasm could probably fly straight over their head, “And if you disagree, well then - I can always give you a list of things why those things are very, very bad for you. And it’s a long one.” He’d already pulled a crumpled pack of Marlboros as he made his way towards the girl, stepping up to the ledge only to lean forward, perilously so, to see the traffic below. He was in the process of lighting a cigarette with his old, beat-up zippo as he spoke, “Why are you up here sulking anyway? I mean, I get me - I’m fucking tired of life and people trying to strike up a conversation down there. But aren’t you supposed to be all wide-eyed wonder and I don’t know, energetic youthfulness?”

OPEN TO ANYONE @ HALF MOON.

            The good old, cliché-filled bar glistened under the city lights and the atmosphere was brimming with people of all sorts. Much like everyone else, Victoria was only here for a drink or two with a friend – although she could use networking, as always. Meeting new people was never out of fashion for someone in her field of work and you could never have such a thing as too many allies. That’s how she saw them: allies, never friends.

          Or so that’s what she told herself. She knew this was Lycanthrope territory – thus, anyone could be the enemy. All that Victoria hoped for was to blend in with the crowd, but it wouldn’t be too difficult considering the place was fairly difficult to navigate already. Bumping into an unfamiliar face, she promptly apologized, hoping not to have spilled her drink onto someone else’s clothing. 

          “I’m sorry. I’ll get you another drink if you’ll excuse me. I’m looking for a friend – but apparently, they’re not coming tonight,” an apologetic smile curled upon her lips. She offered them a hand. “What should I get you?”

It wasn’t like Nate had any particularly strong attachment to the Half Moon - though to be fair, things that he did have an attachment to were few and far between - but it had to do. His ribs were still a bit too sore for a place that sported an underground fight club, and he didn’t particularly feel like going into the darker parts of the Red Line District tonight - this place had food and alcohol and nobody was about to get shot here so he could enjoy all this in peace. 

The woman had caught him off-guard when she bumped into him, and as he stepped back he couldn’t help letting out a chuckle, “Gotta say, I’m kind of impressed with the force of that.”, in his hand, his drink had remained intact - he’d gotten good at that over the years, this was far from his first rodeo in a crowded place, “I mean, the current drink’s fine but it’s not like I’m about to refuse another one.”, for a moment his eyes scoured the place, as if somehow magically he’d see someone looking for her. It was just a bunch of people not paying attention around them so he turned back towards her, accepting her hand, “Nate. Your friend’s a no-show, or did you just make them up to have an excuse?”