tarnished

Silas closed his eyes tight and opened them a couple times, trying to refresh them. He’d been living off of just a few hours of sleep each night and it proving to take it’s toll as he stared at the numbers in front of him in the back of the arcade. Decimal points were starting to jump around and data was beginning to merge together. He reached for the cup of coffee sitting on his desk and finished it off. It had gone cold as ice since the last time he’d touched it. He stretched back in his chair and got up quick to pull an energy drink from the mini-fridge he kept in his office. His brain needed a pick me up of any kind at that point. He still needed to get through the bets for the week and get over to the clubhouse to clean up whatever messes were made over the past few days. 

He was just getting to reconciling March’s books for the Rec Room when the knock at the door caused him to jump. It came as a surprise and suddenly, for just a moment, he thought it was the cops. Zach, his current on shift employee, would have warned him if cops were on their way back and he took a quick breath. He shot up to open the door, hearing the voice on the other side of it. “Hey Connor, come on in, man.” He moved aside so he could enter and shut the door behind him to drown out the sounds of the machines and children. “I’m Silas, Silas Avery, nice to meet you.” He wiped his hand on his pant leg and held it out for the other man to shake. 

“You’re looking for a job?” He looked the other man over. Silas tilted his head to the side and wondered why someone so ‘clean’ was looking for a job in an arcade. He was also a lot older than most the people he had coming in for a job. Silas was used to interviewing teenagers and stoners, not nice looking men in what he assumed was his twenties, possibly early thirties if genetics had blessed him. “Are you new in town? I apologize, it’s a small town we all kind of notice when a new face pops up. Still big enough that you can hide if you need to, that’s nice.” He smiled at him. “What did you do before? What’s your skill set?” Silas asked, putting on his best owner performance. 

Connor felt his cheeks heat up slightly the moment he saw the owner of the Rec Room was actually someone younger than him. Not that age had anything to do with the degree of success - his mother had certainly proved that, the moment she graduated from college, she had already doubled the earnings of his grandfather’s company in a single year - but still, he felt something odd settle in his stomach. He was already supposed to be married by now, planning on having his first kid, maybe interviewing for a job at his University as a Professor of Music and Composition. Now here he was, interviewing for a job that teenagers could do easily and still he doubted his own capabilities. Fuck, he’d never even played in an arcade before in his entire life. 

The other man’s voice distracted him from his spiraling thoughts and Connor forced his heart to calm. Ok. He could do this. Answer the damn question, Rothschild. “Yes, I just moved in a few weeks ago. Still looking for my own place, hence the need for a job. Currently, I’m just crashing at a friend’s.” He decided to not mention Del by name for now.

Living in the town you had grown up in certainly had its perks. Theo had known nearly everyone and everything about this town. He could spot an unfamiliar face just as well as he could point out someone he knew. And when it came down to his profession, this was a fantastic quality to hold.

Late night shifts weren’t exactly his favorite. It left him to do a lot of thinking, when Theo would have rather just been at a bar, or at home with his son. Anywhere would have been better than sitting in the shadows beside the road, waiting for something or someone to require his attention.

And just as he had asked for it, it happened.

It all happened quite fast, watching a figure going for a pothole caused Theo to quickly unbuckle, already out of the car by the time the person hit the ground.

“Hey, are you alright?” He lets out, stopping about halfway between the person and his car.

Connor stared up at the other man, clearly identifying him as a cop with his uniform and his car, and his tension in his body decreased, even by just a fraction. Connor was aware that his attitude towards the police wasn’t universally shared, and the fact he never had any bad run ins with law enforcement was by virtue of his family’s prestige and his eldest brother’s high-ranking position. Perhaps, in a town where his last name meant next to nothing, Connor should have been more wary. Yet despite Elena’s betrayal, Connor’s first instinct - he knew as a person untouched by most of life’s troubles - was still was to offer his trust. 

“Yeah, just took a spill. Wasn’t looking where I was going.” Connor spoke sheepishly, trying to make a show of him being alright, gingerly pushing himself up. Yet as was expected, he sorely underestimated the severity of his fall, unable to hold back the squeak of pain that left his lips when he moved his torso the wrong way. 

She slid into the bench across from him, begrudgingly letting go of his hand in favor of picking up her own menu. She didn’t bother reading through it though, mostly because she knew what she wanted but truthfully because she didn’t seem to want to take her eyes off of him. She felt that she had missed so much, had gone so long without looking at that painfully familiar face. As he continued to speak, she just kept her eyes on him, noted the slope of his nose and the depth of his dimples, tilting her head slightly, so she may observe the way he bit at his lower lip, and how the corners of his eyes seemed to crinkle whenever he would smile. 

So much has changed, yet there were parts of him that still reminded her of the boy that used to live next door. 

Her Connor.  

She blinked at him as he addressed her and she couldn’t help but laugh again. “Oh yeah, uber fancy job. I get my own desk and everything. And a mint jar!” She allowed her thoughts to drift back to the Auto shop and truthfully, she couldn’t be happier anywhere else. “I love it there. I love everyone I work with, and I… It’s a good place. I’m so excited for you to meet everyone.” Her smile wavered slightly. 

“That is… If you don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. I do hope your visit isn’t too short. I can take you everywhere! We have to plan an itinerary… Do I need to make a list?” 

It was so odd, how so much of her appearance had changed and yet he could still pick her out from a crowd of millions. It was odd how he couldn’t exactly recall the exact shade of her eyes - they were green, huh - but the way she scrunched her nose, the way she tilted her head as she gazed at him was so utterly familiar. He did not want to let go of her hand as they sat down, but the premise of being led somewhere he did not know was now gone, and yet in his heart of heart, he would still feel completely lost- 

-If not for her. 

Sometimes, Connor felt he clung too much to the people he loved, relied on them too much, making them his anchor in a world that threatened to whisk him away. 

“That’s good to hear. I’d be glad to meet them, definitely.” Connor spoke softly, affection laced in every inch of his tone. Some part of him keenly felt the gap, the years between them, how many people had touched her life in all those years he couldn’t, but another part of him did not begrudge her the home she made here. Their reunion was a bittersweet thing, he was coming to realize. 

“I don’t have anywhere else I’d rather be.” Connor spoke lightly, frivolously, injecting levity into a statement that would otherwise drown him. He felt his nails dig into the palm of his hand when his mind demanded that he just tell her, to just be fucking honest, it’s Del, but he steeled his spine and forced a smile.

He sleeps late at night and gets up early in the morning because he’s afraid of all that time lost when he’s dead to the world and something actually happens. He’s hungry for a catch like a fisherman marooned at sea with nothing to eat but his own limbs. So he spends most of his waking hours keeping his eyes peeled for anything to indulge that craving, that sweet-tooth-ache for a chase and for a most justified violence.

But tonight, nothing.

He spends more time at The Dive than he should. Locals won’t trust the alcoholic cop, and since his arrival, he hasn’t shown them a reason to be trusted, anyway. It’s not like he’s properly put anyone away yet to earn the town’s respect— most of the cases he’s worked involve stolen bikes that are recovered within hours, ‘break-ins’ from intoxicated adult sons who have keys to the front door, frantic calls from teenage girls whose jealous ex-boyfriends won’t leave their new arm candy alone. It’s like the town is mocking him.

So he pays his tab and calls it a night. Nothing more is going to happen, it looks like, and he’s got to come into work early tomorrow to help Tori sort out some files. Like a fucking desk jockey. Maybe it’s for the best, though. The less work he has to do, the closer he can get to retirement. And isn’t that the dream now?

But fuck, old habits die hard.

There’s nothing but the sound of his heavy shoes hitting the concrete as he makes his way home. That, and the faint rustling of leaves. And his own breath.

And… a phone and wallet?

He spots three dark figures not too far ahead. Just shadows behind street lights. He slows his steps, but doesn’t stop. Smells trouble like a shark smells blood and it makes his heart thump wildly, thrilled, infatuated with the idea of brutal action. The closer he gets, the more he purposefully makes his presence known, but he doesn’t approach them. Instead, he stands in front of an empty lot and lights a cigarette. The spark of a metal wheel and his face illuminated by a soft, orange glow greets trouble in the eyes. “Oh, no, don’t stop on my account,” he says, cool and casual. A subtle threat. He’s not one to flash a badge so easily, and the alcohol on his breath might make the odds against his favor.

Connor knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was screwed. Every warning his brother Colin instilled at him since childhood, how to be wary of strangers, how to study his surroundings and never let down his guard, how to call attention to himself when he was in danger, how to run - he recalled learning these things as a toddler, right after his ABCs. Mostly because he was the son of a prominent family, a promising target for those looking to get ahead, but also because he was the youngest of a fiercely overprotective brood. Connor couldn’t help but think then of Colin, of Callum, how they’d always shield him and come to his aid, no matter the risk or danger to themselves. Like a child calling out for a parent when presented with a monster in the closet, his heart cried out. 

Yet though Connor’s body was trembling, his mind was still cognizant of what he had to do - slowly reach for your wallet and phone, make no sudden movements. Throw it towards them, away from you. Run. The words repeated in his head, the cadence of it somewhat steadying. 

Connor was about to make his move, fingers numb but gripping his things tightly, when another voice pierced through the night air. His entire body froze, rigid, though his heart hammered so strongly inside his chest he wondered if the others could hear it. Tall, dark-eyed, the lit end of his cigarette illuminating his face, painting shadows and hollows on sharp features. He stepped forward, his tone casual, almost bored. 

It would almost be too easy. Marley typically expected the naivety in someone a bit younger, or the desperation of someone older, and yet, there Connor sat, right in that sweet spot of both. She liked the boy–genuinely did, in all of his clumsiness and innocence, like a human personification of a puppy dog. He was easy on the eyes too, which certainly helped. And though that desire of hers that sparked up every now and again had her itching to turn her usual level of charm up a notch, see what she could get out of him with it, a smaller part of her (but one that she was trying to listen to more, as of late) encouraged her to take the higher road. He wouldn’t have been able to handle her, anyways. Not when he could barely pour a cup of coffee.

Which is what she brought his way upon having noticed his arrival into Little Dove. She grinned at the sight, as she always did, immediately grabbing a cup of ice and pouring from the pitcher before making her way over to him.

“Hey there, shark bait.” Her fingers brushed under his chin softly. “It certainly just got better.” She grinned, hands dropping back to her apron after setting his coffee down for him. “Just you tonight or am I gonna get to see Del’s beautiful face too?”

Connor supposed it was odd at how, just a few weeks in, he’d already started developing a routine, getting somewhat comfortable here in Olympus. Settled was too big of a word to use right now, but if he was being honest with himself, the option didn’t seem as far fetched as he initially thought it would be. His few days here he felt off-kilter, jarred, constantly questioning his decision to plain up and leave South Carolina behind. And yet he was beginning to realize, some part of him enjoyed how different it was living in a place like Olympus; as a newcomer, he had certain anonymity, something he never truly experienced as the son of a prominent, high society family. Here however, no one measured him by the standards of his accomplished family members, no one used his life as a kindling for unending gossip and scandal sheets. Here, people did not know the weight of the name Rothschild, and took him as simply as Connor.  

He also knew one of the main reasons he felt so at living ease here was because of Del, for Connor always identified his concept of home with a person - his mother, his siblings - his eyes clouded over slightly at the reminder of her, before he focused once more on Marley. Meeting people like her only solidified the reason why he could see himself staying here, her coy smiles and teasing nicknames aside. 

“Hahaha, yes I’m shark bait.” Connor responded dryly, but afterwards dutifully murmured his soft thanks as Marley poured him his coffee. He was raised as a Southern gentleman after all. “I swear, one of these days, I’ll see you do something embarrassing and I’ll have all the information I’ll need for a terrible nickname.” It was perhaps a bit childish, with others he would not cross such a line, but Marley made him feel a bit...playful. 

Nessa popped her head from around the corner, the cordless phone pressed to her ear. She would ask why people keep asking that, but she supposed they wouldn’t if she was at her desk like she should have been. Of course, having people out sick meant Nessa was covering a few positions, not just her own. And that meant checking in the office for something her manager had forgotten before leaving the property. 

“Just a minute!” she called out cheerily, biting back her annoyance. She made a face as she ducked back into the office. Like, just ding the bell or something. 

No, no one is here, it’s just the animals. The place is open, the front doors unlocked, but no one is home.

Again, sarcasm only helps make Nessa feel better in her brain. 

She finished up with her boss and hung up the phone, pressing the button with not a little bit of vehemence. But the smile she put on when she made her way out of the side office to the front desk is bright and welcoming. 

“Sorry about that. Doing some multitasking around here. What can I do for you?” 

Connor eyed the girl uncertainly. Did he just imagine the strain to her smile, the edge of her teeth slightly bared, which meant despite her words she actually wasn’t sorry and didn’t wish to do anything for him? 

He considered this for a moment, then shrugged. Perhaps he was just overthinking things. 

“Connor?” Vivian calls out, ignoring the dirty looks of others in the restaurant. It’s not as if the place has any ambience to speak of for her to ruin. Plus, it’s the middle of the day. 

She gets to her feet as the man in question comes over to her. “I thought that was you!” She had actually thought the younger man might have a doppleganger; Olympus was one of the last place she would have expected to see Connor Rothschild. And yet, it was very clearly him. 

“Vivian?” Connor called out uncertainly, pushing back his chair as he heads over to her table. Part of him couldn’t believe it - Vivian Randolf, another born one into the world of the South’s elite, here in Olympus as well. She was seven years older than him so they never ran in the same circles, but his mother always thought approvingly of the woman, admiring her for her tenacity and ambition. 

He thought he’d go for a bike ride around town while Del was at work, try to explore Olympus on his own, familiarize himself with the streets and the sights. He was utterly confident, after being brought to or taught most places by Del, he at least had a vague idea of what was where and where was what. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

After biking down another unfamiliar (and unpopulated) street, Connor knew his best chance at finding his way back was calling Del, but it had already reached a point of pride for him. He wanted to show her (and himself really) that could figure things out on his own. He knew if he phoned her now, she’d definitely come to his aid but at the same time he’d never live it down. 

Connor was too focused on reading the street signs, squinting slightly at the ones farther away, that he didn’t notice the pothole in the road in front of him until it was too late. One moment he was biking at a good pace down the street, next thing he knew his body was weightless, his stomach leaping up into his throat, and Connor braced himself as he tumbled down onto the pavement, the impact both jarring and painful.  

The faux leather red booths, the squeaky linoleum floor, and the smell of oil and grease - giving life to his image of old-school diners, Connor’s appreciation for Little Dove grew each time he ate a meal there, most of the times with Del, some of the time alone. Yet what sold it for him was not its 60s reminiscent decor - that was just an added bonus - rather, it was the staff, who despite his failed attempt at working there, still treated him to hearty greetings and companionable slaps on the shoulder. Some (read: most) of them also still needled him about his inability to ferry a stack of plates to and fro (an impossible feat if you ask him), but it was all in good-natured fun. 

He and Del already had somewhat of a routine, eating dinner there at the end of her work shift on the days she couldn’t be bothered to cook (while he couldn’t plain cook at all). They liked the table at the far corner, near the distant edge of the bar, giving them a good view of the diner but in relative privacy as well. 

There was also another reason Connor truly enjoyed his visits to the diner (besides the food not being half-bad.) 

There was an odd warmth in her chest, a familiar thudding in her heart that reminded her of champagne bubbles and late-night car rides with the top down. She ducked her head slightly at the compliment before shoving him away playfully at his follow up to that. “We couldn’t all be tremendously good looking in our teen years like you, Connor.” It was true, the Rothschild family was well known for their unbelievably good gene pool. Connor was no exception. 

Not wanting to be too far away from him again, she reached out to grasp at his hands, still in awe that he was actually actually here! She felt as if she were eighteen again, that the decade that had separated them was now gone. She had so many questions, so many stories she wanted to tell him! She was ready to go about a mile a minute when a flicker of hesitation passed his expression, gate slouching slightly when she brought up what it was he was doing here. 

But just like that, his smile was back up and he was asking her out to dinner. 

Her smile wavered in concern before she pulled it back up as well. She wasn’t going to pry, it wasn’t her place. Not anymore, at least. She, instead, nodded her head and pulled him to the front desk where she finally let go of his hand so that she may grab her things. “You’re in luck, my uber fancy job is just about to end. We’ll definitely talk over dinner. My treat? We can pass by the Diner, and you can tell me all about how you found you way back to me, hm?” She grasped at her jacket and quickly pulled it on before moving around to join him on the other side of the front desk. 

Connor couldn’t help but mirror her grin, the excited flush on her cheeks, eyes bright and shinning. The notion that Delphine wasn’t as captivating back then was ludicrous and if it were anyone else other than him, he’d take personal affront at the mere suggestion. “I know, it’s a true burden, to be this handsome and refined.” He sighed gustily.  

But this light banter was familiar, soothing, and easy to fall back on, and for some odd reason he was reminded of their old, blue-sky summer days, the hours they’d spend biking through the dirt paths in the woods behind his family’s country house, skin warm and sweat-kissed and the silvery bell of her laughter ringing in the air. 

Connor’s hand tingled at their point of contact as Delphine finally tugged him out of the shop. Slowly ambling down the street towards the Diner, Del would point out what’s what and which is where in town, his own personal tour guide, their clasped arms swinging lazily back and forth. Delphine would greet any familiar face she encountered, her effervescence bubbling over, and despite everything Connor felt the weight that was centered on his chest become lighter and lighter with each step he took. 

They eventually arrived at the Little Dove Diner, the pair settling into an empty corner booth. Connor busied himself by perusing the menu so he’d have time to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right way to broach the dreaded topic. He suggested talking over dinner after all, though in truth he had no clue where he should begin. 

“So...Uber fancy job at the auto shop, hey?” He tried to start a conversation, smiling weekly. 

Connor blinked as he entered the Rec Room, his senses suddenly bombarded by all the lights, sounds, and the chatter and yelling of kids and teens alike. He took a tentative step forward when he was nearly barreled into by a frantic mom chasing after a screaming-to-high-heavens 8 year old, who was waving a huge clutch of tickets around in a clear victory lap. 

Perhaps this wasn’t the best idea after all. 

Connor gingerly made his way to the counter, dodging children left and right, swooping at the right moment to avoid a ball flying in an opposite trajectory from its machine. He made it to the prizes counter in relatively good health, waiting patiently for the employee to finish handing off some toys to the other customers. 

“Hey.” The other person regarded him for a moment, as if trying to put a name to his face but upon failing decided it didn’t really matter so they just shrugged it off. “What can I do for you?” 

Connor was directed to the backroom easily enough, trying to ignore the way his nerves started up again once he mentioned to the employee that he was looking for a job - the other’s reply being a raised brow. He found the backroom easily enough, and steadying himself with a deep breath, Connor rapped on the door smartly, once, twice.

‘You are not tipsy.’ Connor thought tipsily to himself as he stumbled down the sidewalk, almost beaning his head against the telephone pole that had just spontaneously generated out of no where. He took a deep breath after his near death experience, blinking owlishly as he tried to collect his thoughts, finding said thoughts swimming around in a sea of alcohol. In his brain.

Connor decided perhaps the best (and only) idea he had right now was to call Delphine to come and get him. With that decided, he fumbled for his phone with uncoordinated fingers, squinting his eyes slightly due to the screen’s glare when he heard a pair of footsteps walk right up to him from behind.

“Hey.” Someone grunted, and it took a conscious effort for Connor to carefully turn his body around to face them. Which perhaps he shouldn’t have done, given the fact he was now staring at the business end of a knife and a couple of dark, hooded looks. 

Delphine, as always, knew him well. The moment he got out of his rut - lying on her couch and sadly going through bags and bags of sour cream and white cheddar popcorn - the first thing he told her was that he needed a job. And off the top of her head, she mentioned that there was a Studio in town that catered to all sorts of dance classes, and maybe he could find a temporary job there by offering to play piano as accompaniment. 

Connor waved at the few students who had already arrived in the dance room, either chatting in small groups or warming up at the bars. The kids greeted him cheerfully, most calling him Connor like he insisted, and the group of moms who decided to watch for the day waved at him enthusiastically from the other end of the room. A few had cornered him just as he was about to enter the doorway, and he smiled politely as they talked his ear off about how great he played the last time and what pieces did he prepare today, and has he eaten lunch today such a skinny thing...

Connor was only able to escape by saying that he had to warm up too, throwing them a genteel smile - one he perfected after being practically raised to counter society mothers - before making a beeline for the old but well-looked after upright piano in the far corner. 

“Hey!” He smiled at Sutton as soon as she walked into the classroom, raising his hand in a small wave as she walked over, her movements ever graceful. 

When Connor learned about the existence of West Olympus Animal House, his heart practically leaped in his chest. He absolutely adored animals, thinking morosely about his dog, his sweet, elderly Cocker Spaniel named River and his cat a fierce little Russian Blue named Styx. His only consolation leaving them behind was the fact that they’d be cared for 24/7 at his childhood home. It was for the best, he figured, since he probably couldn’t afford their food nowadays, what more their bedding, their toys, and their vet bills- 

Connor shook his head. He was already working himself into a mood. He needed a job, and he had to place his best foot forward. Crying at the corner about his animals does not a good employee make. 

“Hello?” He entered the lobby, looking around curiously. He woke up extra early this morning just for this purpose, so he supposed place was probably just starting its daily operations. 

“…I guess I don’t really know.” He whispered softly. 

@delphine-dupont​

He stiffens, slightly. “I’m trying to get a job.” He says defensively, hating the waver in his tone. He has his occasional gig playing piano at Sutton’s dance class, he tried at the Diner but Marley and Del knows exactly how that all went down (his cheeks flame remembering how the other waiters muttered - god, he lasted less than a fucking shift), other possible places are the animal shelter (at least there he’ll be surrounded by sweet animals that will not judge him) or the mini golf course but he’s been too nervous to actually go there. His thoughts are derailed when he realizes that the person asking him the question is still staring. 

“Well, if I’m being honest, I don’t know what to do really without my family’s financial support.” His eyes cloud over. But that isn’t the part he misses most, god he just wants to see their faces. “-but I can’t rely on them always, can I?” 

@suttxnhart @marleycallahan @delphine-dupont @nessa-o-connor @silasxavery 

“Well. I guess I’m most confident playing my music, I guess.” Connor then flushes, realizing that could be interpreted as a brag. “Not that I’m incredibly skilled per say, it’s just where I feel most at…” He searched for the right word. “…at ease.” 

“Least confident, hmmm…” The thought of Elena’s betrayal crept insidiously into his mind before he ruthlessly pushed it away. “I’m guess not the most athletic person, I’m afraid.” He grinned bashfully. “The most I do is jog, but not that far and not that well. I leave stuff like that up to Colin.”