it   really   wasn't   what   oliver   needed,   7am   wakeup   calls   from   the   postman   to   receive   drop - offs   that   weren’t   even   his.   maybe   he   would   have   been   a   little   more   receptive   if   the   deliveries   were   for him   —   a   good   book,   maybe   a   new   video   game   —   but   they   didn’t   even   have   his   name   on   it,   and   the   envelopes   looked   way   too   small   to   hold   anything   of   use.   it   was   that   morning,   bleary   eyed   and   clumsy,   that   he   decided   enough   was   enough.   as   he   glared   at   the   postman   and   almost   snatched   the   parcel   from   his   gloved   hand,   oliver   mumbled   his   way   back   up   to   his   bedroom   and   pulled   on   the   first   clothes   he   could   find.   it   just   so   happened   to   be   his   nightwatch   uniform,   crinkled   and   heavy   with   the   saccharine   scent   of   formaldehyde.  the   mumbling   continued   as   he   trailed   the   short,   yet   endlessly   inconvenient,   path   up   to   the   correct   house.   why   had   it   been   so   difficult,   oliver   thought,   for   the   postman   to   move   a   few   doors   up,   to   deliver   it   to   the   right   number   instead   of   his   home.   he   needed   to   be   sleeping.   in   five   hours   he   would   wake,   shower,   get   dressed,   and   turn   up   at   the   morgue   for   another   long   shift   of   sitting   around,   checking   dark   corners,   flicking   a   torch   on,   then   off,   then   on,   then   off.  he   probably   looked   like   a   bum.   dark,   purpling   eyes,   hair   more   of   a   mess   than   it   usually   was,   clothing   looking   more   like   a   crumpled   paper   bag   than   an   actual   shirt.   gruffly   he   thrust   the   envelopes   into   the   stranger’s   hands,   turned   to   leave,   then   twisted   back   on   the   balls   of   his   feet.   “believe   me,   the   last   thing   i   want   to   do   at   the   crack   of   fucking   dawn   is   to   come   ‘round   your   place   and   deliver   fanmail.   i   don’t   know   who   you   are.   this   isn’t   …   ”   he   gestured   to   the   man   in   front   of   him.   clean - cut,   handsome,   and   apparently   famous ?   “this   just   isn’t.”

but it wasn't just the visual disorder that caused connor to step back in his accusations and pay attention to oliver. it was the air that traveled with the guy ; a heavy , chemical wave. the scent of something clinical yet morbid , a sharp olfactory blade that smelled of sterile preservation clinging to a man who looked like he desperately needed rest. now , connor isn't saying oliver looked like some weirdo with dark secrets who never saw an ironing board in his life ... but he also wasn't not saying that. is it his fault that this stranger fit the perfect description of the obsessed fan ? really , fanatic was the best assumption connor could've made about him.

❝ hm. fine then... ❞ he cleans his throat , awkwardly coming to the conclusion oliver wasn't a fan. it's brutally clear in his discourse and the way he's behaving that he doesn't have a single clue of what connor does or how often he is on tv. and talking about tv , he realizes he didn't really turn off his and the news about him are still loudly there. connor offers a smile , moving his body to close the door behind him , muffling the sound and stepping out of his house as if oliver was super interested in listening to whatever was going on.

❝ look , i'm sorry about that. you're bringing me my things and i'm being an asshole. but , you know how it is. need to stay ... vigilant. ❞ connor taps the probably-badge in his uniform , trying to land a joke about his probably-job. he nods to himself , thinking of what else is there to say as oliver looks at him like he's pissed off with his existence. ❝ if you've let me sign your shirt , it would be worth a good money. just saying. ❞ he shrugs , showing the stranger that the pen wasn't in his hands anymore. in it's place , there's a lot of mail. and now oliver is walking away.

He doesn't like being stared at...being studied or otherwise judged. People stared all the time when his tics got especially bad in public. It sucks. And it always makes him feel fucking awful. Needless to say, her staring provokes a certain intensity that swells in his chest. Blink, blink, sniffle, throat clear. His gaze drops to the pavement, head ducked as he blinks hard a few more times. He flicks the ash off the end of his cigarette.

A blank stare leads with a quirked brow when she repeats his words back to him, seems to be completely shut down by his bluntness. Nothing new. Most people were put off by how forward Shy could be. Then, she's...Is she laughing? He frowns, watches her try to brush aside his words.

"You were. I saw you," he says plainly, cutting into her words before she can even finish. He blinks, nose wrinkling with the frown on his face. Another hit off his cig and then he puts it out. "Approaching is one thing, you didn't approach me. I approached you," he points out tersely. He sniffles, clears his throat, blinks a couple times. Hands fall to his hips as he stares her down.

❝ no ! no, i wasn't ! you're not— ❞ you're not saying what you're supposed to. she bites down her lip with enough force to feel the metallic taste of blood in her tongue. melodie takes a deep breath. this is still savable. sometimes people start off with bad interactions and they turn into funny stories later. it's not the end of the world if shiloh's staring at her like she's crazy, like he's done with her since the moment he turned and talked to her. it's okay, this is totally okay. there's a smile in juniper's face again, clearly nervous. ❝ you're not being fair. i was going to reach you but you ... turned first. ❞

the situation just seems to get worse. he's agitated, the tone of his voice slowly shifting into something increasingly louder as he inquires about things he shouldn't be asking and lists situations he shouldn't know about. did shiloh notice her before ? did he see her lurking around his shop ? ❝ i didn't follow you home or to your shop ! ❞ now, he's really being unfair. melodie only got near his house when he wasn't there. and if shiloh's so worried about being secretive, maybe he should make it harder to find out so much about him with so little.

she tilted her head at his words. he wanted her to stay away and yet confided in her about the poisoning. they were two conflicting ideas. "with respect, your majesty. i am already involved in his matter. and it would be better to have more than your set of eyes."

katherine stops and looks back towards alaric. she purses her lips, glancing at the large bed. she'd only ever slept on the floor or a simple cot in her life. "i cannot i would..." her brows furrow as she thinks of a polite way to say, she would sully his kingly bed with her servant position. "i am undeserving of such luxury."

❝ what i'm trying to say is that you don't need to involve yourself more. ❞ he didn't know her for more than an hour and some few minutes, but it was enough time to notice she's probably going to be stubborn about it and everything else he tries to convince her about. alaric knows he's not going to win this discussion. of course, he could command katherine to do his will but ... the king doesn't wish to be a king in her presence. in a way, it's nice to have a normal discussion; to be contradicted. ❝ and you will do it anyways. so i'll protect you the best i can from this enemy. ❞

Julian couldn’t comprehend how she was making a whole deal out of not knowing what he did for a living. “You can’t be serious Noelle, do you have any idea of the amount of wives who have absolutely no clue what their husbands do for a living?” His hands are flying all around him, hands running through his already messed up hair. “Why do you care so much? The money will keep coming! You’ll get everything you fucking want.” His voice is bitter, with the smallest hint of heartbreak but he swallows it whole.

He stops when she asks the real reason he didn’t say anything to her. A deep breath inflates his chest and then exhales, his until now erratic hands now placing themselves upon her shoulders, a touch much softer than it had been before, much more like the man she knew up until that day. “It’s easier, safer, if you’re unaware of it.” The truth is simple, probably simpler than what Noelle would’ve liked to hear. “As cliché as it sounds, I did it to protect you.”

❝ yes, julian, believe it or not i'm being serious about my husband hiding things from me. shocking, right ? ❞ she hides herself in sarcasm, not able to keep showing him how vulnerable and upset he made her if he's going to keep acting like it doesn't matter. noelle crosses her arms, sighing; trying to control her breathing and the heartbeat punching her chest. it's so, so frustrating. she's seeing her image of a perfect husband melting right in front of her eyes. is this angry and unreasonable julian the real him ? how didn't she notice this side of him before ? ❝ so statistics are on your side and i should be agreeing with you. got it. ❞ she hates herself for being so gullible. noelle should've just stayed quiet; leave in the middle of the night ...

❝ judge me all you want, i really like the money. but god, i also want you ! i want you to say things to me no matter how awful they are. i want you to show me the worst parts of yourself. so don't tell me i'll get everything i want if you won't give yourself to me. ❞ and here she is, still talking, giving him the truth and all the weak spots in her to strike through if he ever wishes to do it. his hands rest on her shoulders, the gentle touch he always uses. winthrop closes her eyes, her own hands resting on top of his, unwilling to let him take this away from her. ❝ there's nothing easy in a wedding, juli. you can still protect me even if i know. ❞ her voice falls to a whisper, finally gaining courage to open her eyes and stare right into his. she nods at his explanation, at how this ... business ... saved his family.

revan can only offer a thoughtful, firm hum in response, lest he give away just how cynical he truly is to the hopelessly romantic princess in their midst. he then pauses, brows furrowing as he considers the other side of her words. even him? it implies something that's probably not untrue, but still. he squints as she continues, mentioning the 'glowing compliment' her prince had given her. it gives him pause when he tries to consider the meaning, but he can't help but continue to agree with her at her own expense. "mm, the old shall i compare thee to a wildflower... i'd say a peony, myself."

that being said, revan does love a wildflower, himself. though, a wildflower certainly wouldn't be so scandalised by talk of more inappropriate manners.

❛ ... what ? ❜ her mouth falls slightly open, surprise written all over her face when revan compares her to a flower. now, she doesn't want to be mean or judge a book by its cover ( well, not too much ) but it differs completely from the things he was saying before. maybe it was true that even him could hide something pleasant under the harsh edges and shameless quotes. cerise puts a lock of her hair behind her ear, a traitorous smile finding space in the princess face and it's clear how easy it was for henry to win her favor now. ❛ i mean ... ❜ a small cough, cleaning her throat as her hands smooth her dress. ❛ why a peony ? ❜

is she being naive by hoping for an honest reply instead of more mockery ? sure, but cerise decides it would be nice to hear whatever explanation he comes up with. she doesn't need to say it out loud, but revan is ... funny. she supposed there was something good to extract from everyone. and she's going to be stuck by his side for some time before falling into henry's arms again. she could learn something. revan could learn something.

"He doesn't know me. It's this rich asshole named Marcus. He is constantly out there spending money on expensive jewellery and painting and artifacts. He couldn't care less about any of it. For him it's only about building his collection. He has a shit ton of businesses and is known to be bad towards his employees. But that is besides the point. What matters is that he has more wealth than he needs and I want to help him lose some of it." He said to her with a shrug.

Samuel couldn't help but smile as he heard her words. He knew that she wasn't going to say no in anyway and he was proven right as she said yes. He smiled at her before licking his lips for a moment. Samuel then pushed his contact information towards her before speaking to her once again. "I am glad to hear that. I shall leave for now but feel free to contact me when you are done. We can meet up again at my club. Have a chat and get drunk and go over the details of the plan more." He said to her with a warm smile before standing up as the man who was speaking to her before was on his way back.

❝ then you don't have to worry. and i don't have to worry. ❞ she shrugs, body language completely relaxed against the cheap chair. he doesn't look like a liar, but honestly, who does ? the situation and the context of his needs are enough to make karina impelled to believe this is not a set up, but if things go wrong ... there's no reason for him to be loyal. or for her to risk her freedom to save him. it's a good thing that samuel looks rough enough to handle himself and biker groups are usually reliable. at least that's her limited knowledge about them.

❝ he sounds like an asshole. ❞ karina nods along, listening closely to the details. everything is usable if you're creative enough. marcus doesn't sound like someone that would remember the face of his employees. getting some of the group inside under the false pretense of working under the guy could be a smart move. when samuel speaks about what matters, she can't help but chuckle a bit. ❝ what are you, robin hood ? it's better when they have too much. people like marcus will never notice what they're losing. ❞

❝ i don't see what's the problem in a vow of getting better. if it was one. ❞ his eyes fall to her fingers, staring intensely at their movements, how they seem to work a magic he's not really able to grasp. tenderness, healing, bone reading. ryoichi remembers the sensation when he was the one on the table, completely vulnerable under her ministrations. a deep slash in his chest, almost reaching his heart. like a wounded animal, which the knight was, he hissed, tried to gather his sword and threaten her. but she was smarter than him, left it out of his reach. since their first interaction, seraphine disarmed him. and she's been doing the same thing, in different ways, from that moment on.

❝ ... you're hard to understand. one moment you're all worried with this guy, now i left a ‘ question breathing in your floor ’ ? ❞ he fights to not roll his eyes. whatever. why would he need to understand her needs anyway ? she only needs to stay alive to keep having them. no need to complicate things ... no matter how hard she makes to do so. he lets his grip get weaker, hands moving how seraphine wants them to. ryoichi's too focused on not kicking this guy to the floor to notice how her hands linger.

❝ ... i'm not surprised. you're seeing things. working too much does that, you know ? ❞ jin-hyuk composes himself, a hand smoothing the black suit, showcasing the expensive watch in his wrist in the action. he can see the corner of minho's mouth, not thinking of how closely he needed to be staring to catch such a faint movement and instead cursing the other in his mind. smug bastard. walking around like he couldn't care less but here he is, having the time of his life toying with his new consultant. how good minho is at keeping this hidden makes everything worse. or better.

❝ should i ? it keeps people on their toes when i surprise them with my uncommitted actions. ❞ kang shrugs, hands now going towards his hair, making a show out of styling it back. doesn't take too long to see jin-hyuk is full of bullshit, trying to twist the narrative as if his actions were all calculated strategies; as if minho didn't just witness everything and how it was all pure reactions. ❝ and my foresight is perfectly fine. ❞ did he really claim that ? jin talks about so many things and makes so many promises that remembering everything turns into a difficult task. the man scoffs as the mayor mentions his job, making his way towards the door too.

❝ fine, fine ... i'll let my results speak for me. ❞ jin got the message. bragging and overselling himself wouldn't work this time. minho is not the type of man that's easily impressed with words or how well jin-hyuk blends into wealth. not interested in money, only using it to solve his problems while inside of work instead of blurring the lines between his career and other pleasures. then, to his surprise ( once again ), minho gives him the same innuendo kang used before.