doing my damn thing.

Oscar has always been a man in love, though it was never in the typical way. He has always loved control, loved power, loved the delicate brush of words that could make people dance to his whims, and, of course, loved himself. But the loss of that control was never something welcome and Oscar certainly never invited it in. But the universe never learned to listen to him, and so the word that met his ear in that old alley was the most unwelcome thing he had heard in a very long time.

It was a split second decision, one made with very little conscious thought. He turned, bringing up Oscar’s preferred smile for the media and the unpleasant. “Sorry, I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for somebody else. I’m Oscar,” he reintroduced himself, extending his hand with the confidence of only the very rich. “I’ve been told I have one of those faces though, so I won’t hold that mistake against you.” That was a joke, though it came out flat and wrong through the worry that dominated Oscar’s mind.

He laughed, trying to play off the awkwardness, though that was one of those aspects that never changed, no matter the mask. “I can’t say I’ve seen you before, though I don’t commonly hang around in alleys. It’s been a bit of a bad day for me.”

he still remembered the fire like it was yesterday. it was one of the few things he’d remembered completely from back then - he’d lost everything in that fire, although he didn’t have much to begin with. all he could remember was that he didn’t care that all of his things had gone, he’d only been screaming a name he still remembered - a name he’d chosen to forget since then. 

he should have known it was impossible. clive had died in that fire, after all - but what he was seeing in front of his eyes, sober as day, was that very same face he used to dream of, name still sweet on his tongue.

“i - right. sorry,” he began anyway, ready to take this man’s word for what it was for a brief moment, but his feet didn’t want to seem to leave him there. even the voice, god, that voice, almost sounded like something too familiar and he couldn’t give it up now without asking just once more.

Bex rolled her eyes and scoffed lightly at his comment, regretting the former as her head pounded. “Yeah, yeah. City of dreams.” She saw him flinch this time when the knife clattered to the ground. “Calm down,” she muttered. “I’m not going to attack you. Seriously.” It felt like an insult that she would attack without any kind of provocation. Especially not someone who worked for Tyler. Not many people saw Bex as intimidating anyway, though she supposed the knife she’d managed to grab helped.

She took the offered hand, grunting slightly as he tugged her forward. “Not far from here,” she told him and told him the address of her apartment. Even if he tried to stalk her, she didn’t think it would be too hard to convince him why that wasn’t a good idea. If he flinched from just the knife before she was making threats, well… Not that she thought she’d have to do that. 

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly, wrapping her own arm around his shoulders. But the offer of the cab, on someone else’s dime too, was a bit too tempting when her head was spinning in such a way she felt like she was going to throw up. “‘kay,” she agreed, letting him lead her towards the brighter main road. “No. Or at least, I don’t think he was. Didn’t have anything on me anyway. I don’t tend to just randomly carry that kind of thing.” She sniffed, wincing. “Fuck, my face hurts. First Sandor, now this?” She could taste blood in her mouth, dripped from her nose. “Bastard.”

“sorry. kind of learned over the years not to trust a drug dealer with a knife. no offense, honestly. i wouldn’t have trusted myself with a knife all those years ago, you know what i mean?” vincent replied, though he had to admit he did still feel far better when he saw that she was empty handed. 

“sandor? something happen there?” vincent asked as they walked and he used his free hand to wave down the cars passing by, one eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. he knew of the man, of course - infamous for his temper, from what vin had gathered over the years - but why would she be getting involved with someone like that? then again, he supposed, he really shouldn’t be sticking his nose in anyone’s business. he realized belatedly that her nose was bleeding and he quietly offered her his handkerchief (may it rest in peace) before getting back to waving.

a few minutes passed and he let out a sigh of relief when one of the cabs stopped in front of them and he hoisted her in, getting in quickly afterwards. the address was easy enough to remember and he guided the driver, emphasizing on the urgency of the situation.

it was a very good thing that bex was relatively light, because god knew he wasn’t the biggest or strongest person out there and after some fumbling around, he’d managed to bring her up to the right room. 

he’s never been someone who’s believed in coincidences much. nothing in his life has been due to  pure coincidence, and he tends to want to keep it that way. it almost feels like just another day as he walks out of work, of course after having done a full sweep of the warehouse to make sure everything is running smoothly, until he steps into a quiet alley. 

this alley isn’t an unfamiliar one - in fact, he usually takes his way back home if he doesn’t have to make any other stops beforehand, but nothing could have prepared him for what - or who - he was about to run into. 

“...clive?” 

Kel’s mouth quirked in response, he hadn’t expected such a casual response. “Well there’s certainly no time like the present to get something nice for yourself. Not doing a great job of convincing me to sell you a deadly weapon though.” Despite the words he tilted his chin to the far wall and beckoned the other to follow.

It was a good day, minimal pain, and getting to spend part of it with Vin was always helpful in making the world seem brighter. “These lovelies are all pretty standard first guns. Fire the standard 9mm rounds, all that good stuff.” He gave a long look at the other’s face and hands before moving down the line. “Sig’s not for you, too many fiddly bits even if it never jams. Might like a Glock, common and well-priced. If you like those, I’d take the 19 over the 17, it’s lighter and thinner.”

“But for you my friend,” he grinned as he pulled a piece from under the glass. “The XD Mod.2, I think. This is a smaller size than their standard, one of the thinnest in the industry, but doesn’t have the recoil issues that usually go with the light weight.” He flipped the gun to offer the grip. “Get a feel, it’s not loaded.

“it’s my hope that i won’t ever have to use it, but you never know with these things.” and normally, he might have gone on for ages about how he hasn’t been able to sleep lately, how the nightmares have gotten worse and worse, but somehow this didn’t feel like the right time or place. it wasn’t that he didn’t trust kel, but he didn’t exactly want to burden the other, either.

blinking, he followed kel to the display, eyes glued on gentle hands and long fingers as they move across the surface, above the guns. “has anyone ever told you that it’s kind of hot when you talk guns?” he asked, letting out a dramatic sigh. “like, i have no idea what you’re saying but it’s kind of getting me going.” 

joking aside, however, he looked down at the piece when it was offered to him, stretching his hand out, palm up. "do you ever think people who buy big guns are trying to compensate for something else?” vincent grinned, taking the gun into his hand and letting his thumb glide over the grip, a tiny little thing that almost felt like a toy. 

Bex can vaguely hear the muttering from where she’s leaning haphazardly against the wall, but her head is spinning too much to really listen. Her earbuds have been ripped from her ears, dangling from her pocket where they’re still attached to her phone. The shove against the wall had knocked her head hard against the concrete, and the pain seemed to radiate out from there even now.

Despite that, when Bex heard footsteps coming, she gripped the knife tighter and straightened up as much as she could. Vincent. “Fuck, I thought you were someone else,” she muttered with a sigh, dropping the hand with the knife to her side again. “No. No, don’t call anyone. I just–” She didn’t want anyone else to know really, and she wasn’t far from home. She especially did not want to go to get medical help. A broken nose and a possible concussion was not worth the money it’d cost. “What the fuck even happened?” she finished with a hollow laugh. “Some drunk just attempted to mug me, that’s what.” She groaned, dropping the knife to bring her hands to her head. “Fuck me, my head hurts.” She sighed. “I just need to get home.”

vincent’s eyes widened a moment when he saw the knife in her hand, now unsure if he should have just ran the other way. but so it seemed that he was still in her good graces and he stepped forward once he realized she ( hopefully ) wouldn’t be swinging the blade his way. the lucky - if they could even call it that - was that it didn’t seem to be anything mob-related. if it had been, he probably would have fled the scene before she’d even seen him just because he usually did try to stay out of these matters. mostly because he didn’t want to know, but also because it was a part of his job to stay as impartial to either side as possible.

“welcome to new york city,” he managed, trying to lighten the mood and immediately realizing it probably wasn’t the time or place. he flinched one more time as the knife hit the floor with a light twang, though once that weapon was gone from her hand, he was more than happy to step forward and offer her a hand.

“where’s home? i promise i won’t stalk you if you tell me.” he said, gently taking one of her arms and tugging her forward. staying around wouldn’t do them any good, even if that person hadn’t been mob-affiliated. 

“you’ll be fine once you get home. probably? i’m - look, maybe we should just try to catch a cab. my treat.” vincent mumbled, not sure if he was helping at all, but he did hike an arm around her to help her, slowly making his way towards a bigger street where the cabs would be. “guess this kind of thing comes with the job, huh. figure he was trying to steal your stuff?” 

the work the two of them delve into is different, but it might weigh the same by the way vincent repeats himself. The word is tight, sounding unforgiving, and tristin can only nod. though they doubt vincent’s work involved anything related to the murder, it didn’t indicate that working for Poseidon, who was so entwined in the mobs despite the claim of neutrality, wasn’t any less difficult.

so it’s with a modicum of surprise that vincent offers tristin his glass, for even without an extra half-shot, they would have thought he would want to indulge without delay. but they smile, something soft and small, and meets his gaze as it travels back to their face. “thank you. i appreciate it.”

they take a sip, and while the taste isn’t strong enough to calm their nerves, it’s sweet and delicious and just enough. it almost distracts him from vincent’s comment, and once it registers, they manage a chuckle despite the heat slowly crawling up their neck. “i definitely wear hoodies when by working by myself, don’t doubt that. but hoodies don’t exactly fit into this atmosphere as much. Plus, I want to look — nice, every once in a while. not just for a ball.” 

a breath, then before the nerve is lost, they quickly add, “i’m pleased my decision for attire meets your standard. fashion isn’t my strongest suit, so i’m honored it does qualify for the ‘nice’ category.”

the truth is, he’s not big on drinking. even when he does, he rarely drinks to get drunk. it feels too close to being out of control and he’s been to enough meetings to know that it only takes one mistake to fall back to old habits. so he answers with a shrug, as though to say it’s not a big deal. sure - he supposes that everyone in a mob normally comes out to a club after a good ol’ shooting. 

tritin’s response is almost endearing, and just enough to make him imagine them in a hoodie. almost wants to see it, though he stops himself from letting that slip out, too. 

“sorry,” he says, feeling silly all of a sudden. “it doesn’t really matter what i think anyway. i’m nobody important.” and he’s usually so good with his words when he’s in meetings, feeling powerful in his clean armani suits. he’s not sure why he feels so powerless here. 

“can i be honest with you?” vincent asks after a moment, fully prepared for tristin to walk away from this, from him. but then again, what does he have to lose? “i don’t really know why i’m here. i thought it might help, being around people. i can’t sleep and it’s like, really quiet at my place. i don’t even like to drink. i don’t know why i ordered this,” he lets out a laugh, even if it doesn’t sound quite as happy as he’d like it to. 

Before leaving the hospital his acting physician had pulled him aside and told him to ‘take it easy’…Of course, he knew to ‘take it easy’! Rest was a critical component of proper healing, he went to med school and graduated top of his class, this was basic knowledge that any decently smart individual would know. Is that what he was doing, not exactly. He had forced himself to stay at home and prop himself up on the couch, but there was a company to run, and it would be entirely unfair to place that much burden on Vin to handle alone.

When he heard the knock at the door he simply rolled his eyes, assuming it was some personal assistant of another executive who had heard the news and wanted to ‘make sure he was okay’. But it was insistent, and as it grew more frantic he huffed and hobbled towards the door throwing it open with a scowl, “You’re giving me a headache, why the hell does the doorman keep letting you all up here-“ He blinked and cocked his head to the side, “Vincent? Oh-Well, I didn’t want to-Calm down- Please, come in.” Vin had no time to reply as Tyler ushered him into the condo and shut the door behind him. “I didn’t call anyone, kiddo. Didn’t think it was necessary.” He slowly lowered himself back onto the couch with a heavy sigh, “But, reflecting on that decision perhaps it was a mistake. Though, I did want to avoid this- Your panic that is, you don’t need that added stress.”

he was certain that this would normally be considered rude, especially given that he was speaking to the CEO of the company he worked for and it was definitely not his place to barge into tyler’s building and apartment like this, but none of that seemed to matter in this moment. if tyler fired him, so be it, but damn it, he was not okay with this. 

“oh, am i stressing you out?!” vincent huffed at tyler’s words, more than taken aback by how relaxed the man seemed to be given the situation, “wow! it’s almost like you didn’t get shot and almost die - what, was i supposed to get that phone call and be super casual about it? and why am i not your emergency contact, huh? i’m calling HR and having them change that immediately, i’m -” he took a deep breath after that, realizing that he still hadn’t even taken his shoes off. 

so he did, placed them neatly off to the side, before heading inside as he was asked to. he knew he should’ve thought this through, but he supposed it wasn’t too late to start now. 

“do i have to ask or are you going to tell me what happened?” he continued, though he made sure to keep his voice down this time. “and...what does this mean? i mean - do we know who it was? do i need to hire more security? a bodyguard?” 

time: some time after 9pm location: the labyrinth status: open

trigger warning: violence, blood, knives, alcohol

Bex had never been particularly tall, even as a child. Then everyone else hit growth spurts and she seemed to stay small.  She’d learnt the hard way that people could see her as an easy target. She rarely went on her job without a weapon. After today, she’d probably begin carrying something at all times. 

Her next mistake was walking alone with music playing, unable to hear someone else around. Too comfortable, having followed this route more times than she could count, she wasn’t aware of her surroundings. Not until a hand grabbed her, shoving her body against a wall and a knife near her face. Bex’s first thought was that this was gang-related, but the man’s aggressive demand for her money told her otherwise. She could smell alcohol on his breath, but that wouldn’t make his knife less deadly if he stabbed her.

Bex did the first sensible thing she could think of: kneed him hard in the groin. He doubled over and she grabbed for the knife. Unfortunately, he recovered quickly enough that she was only able to get him to drop it before she caught a sharp elbow in the stomach and a fist to the face. Bex grunted in pain, and stumbled back. Seeing red now, she launched a swift kick at the man’s abdomen and followed it up with a hard punch the way Sandor taught her. He swung wildly, but Bex’s small stature made her quick and training with Sandor made her good at fighting through pain. She sidestepped him, using his momentum to help him crash into the wall. “Bastard!”

She scooped the knife up and ran, adrenaline fuelling her enough to get away. But by then, her head was spinning from being knocked against a wall, and blood was dripping from her nose. With a groan, she came to a stop, leaning against the wall with the knife in hand. “…Fuck.” 

vincent didn’t like to make a habit of coming down to the labyrinth. it wasn’t that he was necessarily scared of what happened down here - after all, he was more than used to being around addicts and junkies and in dark, unappealing places like this. rather, he didn’t like being reminded of what he used to be, what he probably still was, because this was exactly where he used to come to look for his next high. 

still, his job, as much as he wished it could simply involve sitting behind a desk and calling people on the phone, involved seeking out the big-and-small time dealers, and today was no exception. he’d been meaning to meet someone (the distributor was late, no surprise there), but instead of a friendly face, what he heard was someone yelling, and what sounded like a flurry of footsteps and...fighting? 

he pokes his head out from behind the concrete wall to see a man - tall, probably 5′10 or so, and a much smaller girl. the girl, he soon realizes, is none other than bex. before he can act, she pushes him and she runs - towards where he is, and vincent hides back.

“this is bad,” he mutters to himself, pacing back and forth as he contemplates. “this is very bad.” and it was very bad indeed, and this certainly wasn’t something he ever expected himself to get wrapped up in and yet -- 

it’s not exactly jarring to face vincent as he slides beside them, but it’s — surprising all the same. too much and too little time had passed, the hours and days blurring together in ways they find uncomfortable. it alludes to sleepless nights and thoughts they’re better off not indulging, for the past cannot change, and they can only wield the present as best as they could.

and the present offers them vincent and his words that edge on awkward, and they don’t blame him for that. how one asks questions after a murder always involves an awkward dance, unless those discussing had grown up int he environment where such a thing was the norm. but neither they, and they suspect vincent as well, had experienced this violence over and over and over again.

it’s something they’re not sure they’ll ever become used to, and what a predicament that leaves them in. 

a small smile flickers. “hello, vincent,” they say, just loud enough to be heard over the booming music. “don’t fret over not calling; i could have done the same, but….work.” as if that could explain everything away. it shouldn’t, not in their case. but they take a breath, eye the drink in his hands. “that good by chance? if i’m to risk being recognized by the bartender, i want to ensure i’m risking it for a drink that’s worth it.”

nervousness is never something he tries to show. so he does have to admit it feels a little strange to be nervous around tristin, of all people, who isn’t a client, or someone above him, or someone who he should be careful of. so he vaguely knows what that means but chooses to ignore it, in fear that it might end up backfiring. again. 

still, he feels a rush of relief as tristin engages because he’d been prepared for a much less friendly response. “yeah, work,” he repeats himself, feeling the tension behind the word. work. sometimes he wondered if it was worth it all, but he couldn’t let himself go down that road, which was precisely the reason he was here. 

“i guess. i’m not really trying to get drunk but i think it could probably use a half a shot more. here - you can try it.” he says, offering them the glass and using that as an excuse to give the other a quick glance, head to toe. 

a smile pulled at his lips at vinnie’s words, something reminiscent of something his own mother once told him. but the ghost of something he had never dealt with soon floated in right after, dragging a dark cloud right with it as jason stared at the pattern against the wall absentmindedly. vin’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts quickly, a puzzled expression crossing his features as he tilted his head one way. no one ever really asked about his thoughts on a matter, especially ones so emotional and raw as someone pulling themselves out of addiction. all jason could really do was shrug.

“i think she’s brave, brave for sharing all of herself like that and going through with it too. she could give a lot of people hope for their futures.” he paused for a moment, rubbing the stubble on his jaw uncomfortably. “why? do you know her or something?”

a part of him knew why vin was asking, it was obvious that jason had been sitting there for months and had never said a single word. he had the tendency to sit there with a stale cup of coffee, observing everyone around the two of them whilst his partner shared every so often. it wasn’t that his friend’s curiosity was misplaced, but wanted to hear him actually ask the question before he formulated an answer, one that he wasn’t sure was going to be truthful or not.

it was an answer vincent expected - polite, logical, very jason. but it wasn’t an answer he’d been looking for, and that made it all the more difficult for him to actually ask him the question. it was something he’d been asked when he’d begun rehab all those years back, and one that made him actually look back at the choices he had made. 

but he didn’t want to overstep - what was he to jason, anyway? a friend, perhaps, and not much more than that depending on how you looked at it. he didn’t have many he could call a friend, much less someone he actually trusted, and he refused to put that at risk. 

“no,” he cleared his throat, tearing off another bit of the french toast with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. “it’s just - i just thought it was nice, you know? like that part she said about how she stopped using because she - she knew she was gonna die if she didn’t and i - i resonated with that a little, i think. speaking of,” he paused again, finally looking up to fully meet jason’s eyes. “how come you never...share? at the meetings?” 

Open Starter | Delicate Balance | Etna Weaponry

It wasn’t his first thought when the gun rang out, but it had definitely hit him before he got home. Gonna be a busy week. These sorts of fluxes in demand for… product were normal, every one felt a bit more secure when they thought they’d be able to defend themself. Kel knew it didn’t work that way, but with a business founded on the sale of weapons he wasn’t about to tell them otherwise. Wasn’t good to hear the guy selling you a gun saying that you wouldn’t have a chance against an obviously professional hitman if the target happened to be on your back. Happy customers were the ones that came back- when they didn’t get killed.

So when a familiar face was shown through the door, he waved Brontes away with a wan smile and propped his feet on his cabinet with a sigh. “I was wondering if you’d show up today. Not big on delays when the gears start grinding are you?” It was different doing business with friends- he wanted them to be right about what their purchase would do. “So what can I do for you?”

he couldn’t lie - he got paid a decent amount working under tyler, certainly more than he’d ever imagined he’d make, but he never imagined that he would have to find himself down here, buying himself a gun. 

he’d held one before, of course, back when he was running deals for gabriel, but that was a last-minute safety measure, and the gun hadn’t been his own. this felt different. 

“no time to lose, kel,” he replied eventually, looking up with a small smile. he wondered how his friend felt about all this - was he already used to it, or was he as scared as he felt? 

“only one thing to look for in a weaponry, methinks,” he added, “something small. and easy to use. i don’t have much experience with guns, so.” 

date: september 25th location: asphodel open

They slip through the crowd as if it’s a second life.

Perhaps it is; perhaps, in a different twist of fate, a different pull of the strings, this action wouldn’t quite feel treacherous. They would perhaps feel at home, lose themselves in the energy of the crowd and the music thrumming in their veins. 

But this life doesn’t belong to them any longer. This isn’t a place for someone marked as an Olympian.

It’s a foolish action, yes, but it’s one they’ve done before; the occasions were few, months and months stretching between each, yet they still happened all the same. Though each had been brief, a quick dip into the club when watchful eyes were distracted, scanning the area for any changes or physical updates to systems they remember from years prior. And then a faster escape, footsteps light and gaze downcast as they rush back to Olympus territory.

Tonight, though —- tonight they will be here longer, if fate allows it.

when he spots tristin in the crowd, he’s not sure if he should try to slip out the back door without being seen or say hello like nothing’s happened. and he supposes nothing much has happened (other than the police commissioner being shot right in front of their eyes) mind the drink they’d briefly shared in the after-hours. so much for making up stories. 

eventually, he decides that it would probably look better to at least acknowledge the other’s presence. plus, he’d just ordered his tequila sunrise and he didn’t really want to let that go to complete waste. 

“funny seeing you here,” he begins once he moves through the crowd and slides into the empty space beside them, though he instantly feels like he shouldn’t have since it’s actually not very funny to see tristin here. he feels...awkward, almost. 

“so i - i did mean to give you a call, i’ve just been busy, with...work. anyway. hi.” 

where: street outside of elysian when: september 27th who: open to anyone

killing is not new to her. in fact, it’s second nature, something that she’s had programmed into her code over a decade ago, to the point where she’s almost become numbed to the idea of death. after the first several, there’s no more crying. there’s no more waking up in the middle of the night panicking. there’s only the dark realization that this isn’t a normal way to react. all she can do is destroy whatever she touches, herself included, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow. rosalyn’s aching for something to distract herself, but she doesn’t even have a cigarette on her at this point, and so she’s found herself in the alley behind elysian, pacing and trying to center herself again.

the footsteps approach quickly - too quickly, she thinks to herself. it could be nothing, but she doesn’t feel like risking it, and she’s reacting almost instantly, whirling around where she stood with a frustrated grunt. she grabs onto the person’s arm, twisting it behind their back to gain some sort of leverage, even if she doesn’t need it. better to have the upper hand right off the bat. “haven’t you ever heard it’s impolite to sneak up on someone?” she says through gritted teeth, belatedly realizing that this is only serving to prove herself right. 

he can’t be sure, but he’s narrowed it down to a few people. the great king samael wouldn’t have done something like this themselves, and neither would have luli - plus, it would have to be with someone skilled enough to hide themselves in a crowd like that and get past security. 

not that he would ever do anything with his wild theories, of course, but he’s reminded of them when he notices a familiar figure down the alley, ever-threatening. (coincidences are so strange, aren’t they.) 

he doesn’t think that she’ll notice as he walks down, picking up his pace, but the moment he opens his mouth to say hello, she’s got his hands behind his back, and he yelps painfully, struggling against her ironclad grip in a panic.

there weren’t many who knew him intimately - most people he’d run into after he’d joined tyler in his ventures were strictly business, and he was usually fairly careful when it came to sharing his thoughts or information with others. so he hoped it wouldn’t alarm anyone to find him at asphodel for the third night in a row, because that was the image he’d built up for himself, wasn’t it? he was meant to be in the middle of it all, in the midst of all the noise. 

truth was, though, he was only at asphodel because he didn’t trust himself enough at the moment to be left alone - his head was always too busy, and these recent events hardly let him sleep at night. so he found himself here, found himself housing a drink there. and it was probably the alcohol that made him take out his phone and text russell (just out of curiosity, he told himself) though all he received back was a somewhat bland, more worrisome response. 

which, he supposed, was why he found himself now standing outside of russell and anya’s apartment door, giving two sharp rings via their doorbell. 

“hey, come on, i know you’re home!” he half-shouted, “open this before i break the door down!” 

( tw needle mention, drug mention )

it was not okay. he was not okay. he’d gotten the call days after the shooting and he’d been so certain that he felt his own heart actually sink into the ground, and he’d all but practically jumped out of his bed and ran to tyler’s place without thinking, bypassing the doorman he usually liked to chat with and running straight up to the right floor. 

(to think that the commissioner had been shot only days before and now this, his mind was rushing and he didn’t even know what he was supposed to do and god, he wished he could just sit at home and shoot something down his vein --) 

he shook the thoughts away as he arrived at the familiar door, and he gave it a few quick knocks, then some more when it wasn’t answered right away. only when it opened (finally!), vincent let out a frustrated sigh. “you - why didn’t you call me? i mean what the fuck --” 

Time: Post-NA Meeting Location: Denny’s Status: Closed starter for @dionysins​

In all other parts of his life, Jason played the part of the fool, a happy-go-lucky man who was constantly on the search for fun and a good time. It was the character he fell so easily into: the person who everyone loved being around because their line of work was far too serious. He would be the welcome relief in their lives that they needed so badly. The only time he ever felt as though he could be himself and drown in the sadness he so often felt tugging at him was during Narcotics Anonymous and for a few hours afterwards. After all, the people at that meeting didn’t require a court jester. They only wanted others to listen and empathize and if that was what they wanted, he could do that.

Pushing his french toast across the plate, he briefly glanced up at Vin with a sad smile. He’d been hesitant to go to these meetings before, but he had been relieved and happy that the other man had agreed to let him tag along a couple months ago. If anything, Vinnie was one of the bigger reasons why Jason was doing so well, even if he never shared anything about himself. Some things were just better left unsaid and unheard, it wasn’t just him who was suffering. Leaning back in the booth, he sighed. “I don’t know why I always order the french toast if I can’t finish it… Do you want it?”

grateful almost seemed like the wrong word for it - after all, you weren’t supposed to be grateful that anyone had to be at one of these meetings, and he certainly wished at times that he didn’t have to go. but still, he was grateful for having a friendly (mostly friendly, anyway) face at narcotics anonymous, no matter how long he’d been attending these meetings. of course, he wished he could share his revived appreciation for life with jason, but for some reason, it didn’t quite seem like the right time to do so, even if they were sitting in a denny’s.

“my momma always said never say no to free food, so.” he said once jason offered him the rest of his french toast, now definitely cold from resting out for so long. “...actually, i don’t think she’s ever said that. um,” he paused, poking at the edge of the toast as he tried to find the right words. the thing was, there was always a fine line between being concerned and being nosy, and as much as he liked to pretend he didn’t have much of a filter, he considered jason to be a friend or sorts, and didn’t want to scare the man away, and asking him why do you never talk about yourself while they were sitting in a diner didn’t seem like much of a mood booster.

“so...that story she told back there, the one with the pink hair. pretty wild, huh? kinda inspiring, how she’s a mom and all, trying to make it. i - well, what did you think?” 

(tw: teeth)

Heat rose to Anya’s cheeks as she flushed with embarrassment. In the back of her head she heard a stern reprimand, “pull your head out of your ass,” in a voice that belonged to both Harvey and Luli simultaneously. Being taken by surprise on her own turf had rattled her, but she could make the best out of this situation yet. Vincent had value.

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“you think so? a dental hygienist --” vincent hummed, ready to entertain the idea until anya mentioned extractions and he let out a loud ugh, sticking his tongue out. “aw man, i don’t need the details. that’s what i keep telling people - i’m okay with what i do, but i don’t need to hear everything that happens. what happened to ignorance is bliss!”

and of course, he was being overly dramatic but he shuddered one last time before they continued their conversation. “i’m staying sober for tonight, and i’m not that good of a dancer. i know, it’s shocking. i’ve got such a good figure and all.” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“what about you, miss thing? you’re not exactly mingling with the singles, either.” vincent stepped to the edge and pointed at the dance floor, narrowing his eyes as though he was trying to get a closer look. 

“what’s your type? i’ve been told i’m pretty good at matchmaking so i could probably find someone for you. i suggest someone who’s, hmm, not in a mob, perhaps.”