Dancing On My Own

Still, Santi's sentiment manages to actually land. Maddox nods, slow and understanding. "No, he wouldn't have. He would do all his duties with you, and then fucked off to the Maldives with me." The perfect in-between. Despite his cheekiness, there's a very meaningful look he passes over Santi. "You're not going anywhere, mate. I won't let you."

he did the kid a favor one time and now isaac thinks he's abusive of the system. though in all fairness , isaac had asked for it -- in a way , he thought he would need maddox's help if he ever got into trouble. however , there was a big problem ---- isaac was squeaky fucking clean in comparison to maddox. since the news broke out that sebastian died , the younger man had been somewhat a pain at his side every other weekend when isaac actually preferred to be sleeping like a normal adult. instead he was out at 3am , answering a call from a what he could only assume was a completely hammered maddox being held at the station. the only thing isaac did was loudly sigh before hanging up and driving towards the station. once arriving the holding officer read off the charges while isaac signed off on release , though they hadn't charged him , knowing isaac would probably get him off the hook like he had done before.

as they stepped out he simply looked at the other and said , " public indecency ? really ? what are you ? fifteen ? " he shook his head , absolutely judging the other's choices in life.

"What are you? Fifty?" He challenges back as he emerges from behind the counter, glitter on his cheek and the smell of vodka on his lips. "What are you doing sleeping on a Saturday night?" Isaac's a hell of an ally, but unfortunately a tremendous bore. "Live a little, man. You only do it once." And the proof is in the people he loves - Sebastian, now Romeo... What's the point in playing by the rules, when the rules don't mean shit?

when selin had decided she was moving out of her sister’s place, she had not imagined herself looking at townhouses in manhattan. but working no fewer than six jobs for the past year had done surprisingly decent things for her bank account. still, she never would have been able to afford a place like this if amelia had not been looking for a roommate too.

amelia’s admission pulled a small, surprised laugh from selin. “me either,” she admitted, stepping in beside her. “i mean, i used to live in an apartment where the kitchen was basically in the bathroom, and i shared it with two other people.” back in türkiye, when she’d been a struggling actress on a moderately successful television show. she followed amelia through the living room, trying not to look too openly dazzled. then they reached the sunroom, and the garden opened up beyond the glass. for once, nothing clever came immediately as the morning light spilled over everything. “oh,” she said, then, after a moment, she glanced over at amelia. “do you know how to garden?”

"Yeah?" Amelia chuckles. "I'll be honest, I imagined you in one of those crazy artist lofts." The sort of place beautiful and talented women blended seamlessly. Oddly, it makes her like Selin more. Further proof of how grounded she is, despite all the glamor and reason not ot be. "My last apartment was so small you bumped into the fridge every time you left the bathroom. Anyway, everyone's on me about getting a better place, so." There they are, in the precipice of a new beginning. A house that is big, but not grand. Something that could maybe be home.

"Would you be surprised if I said yes?" Amelia may give off New Yorker energy, down to her speediness and crabbiness, but alas -- "I grew up in San Diego. My mom kept a lush garden. I'll be busy, but you know, some annuals and a few perennials." Good as anything. "I'm not much of a decorator, though." She admits sheepishly, nodding back into the living room. Apart from the packed boxes, the space was relatively bare, save for some crown moldings. "Tell me you have some talent in that department. Can't say I have any good furniture either, apart from a lumpy sofa and an Ikea coffee table."

Lottie only watched Amelia's reaction to the news she had just learned herself - sparing her of the details that she still remembered at least a few times a day. Similar to how Romeo, now gone, had freed them of the father that had only ever tormented both of them in every way that he could. "He made sure to do that until his last day on Earth." Charlotte mumbled, her tone almost coming off as neutral. She swallowed hard, grabbing her matcha latte to appear more nonchalant. "I need your help with your team. Prioritize any lead on Pantheon, as small as it may be. I want answers." About who killed Romeo, that was. Hopefully, her sister knew her well enough to understand that. As an after thought, she clicked on a different property on her laptop, another link that Amelia had sent her and rolled her eyes. "You do know you're the one that'll be living there, right? It's smaller than your own office."

She understands Lottie better than one might think. For all their differences, their similarities are glaring. She understands her impulse to pull to neutrality, to shut down the rage that lives inside you. Knowing just how dangerous it is, Amelia nods in understanding. "After everything's that happened, finding out who's behind the Pantheon is a small consolation." Romeo sacrificed himself for them in more ways than one, and Amelia knows the way it haunts her.

"I was thinking... Noble Story's been reporting about everything but the fires. Focused on the sensationalism, instead of the who's-who behind it. Not like Alexis is a shit journalist." Would be easier to out her if she was. "And speaking as someone who's blackmailed into a side--" by Lottie, no less. "Who's to say she isn't, either?" And if nothing else, Amelia has her own professional motivations.

"I'm good being alone, but fine. Open the next one." Unlike the previous contenders, this one was partially inspired by Lottie's entrepreneurial spirit. A Townhouse in Midtown, close to the office, and made of sturdy brick. "It's lavish, for me." She prefaces, knowing by Lottie's standards it's just a home. "But you're right, I have money. So, I don't know. I was thinking to invest; buy, instead of rent. Selin needs a roommate, and being alone hasn't felt great lately." And she loves it, from the garden space to the short commute to work.

if he could avoid amelia for the rest of his life he would , even if his gaze said something different. or the way his body seemed to instinctively turn towards her , all signs pointing towards the illusion of a reunion but his brain told him to stay away. she was nothing but trouble , even now -- her quip not totally falling on deaf ears. " no , love. i abandoned that the day you dumped me , remember. " he was no stranger to confrontation , she should have known that and accepted it once she decided to sit next to him.

"Who says? I'm not the broke journalist you knew." She challenges, taking a sip of the wine. Fuck, that's good. Alfie's taste never misses, and she takes the relief of the bartender returning with a plate of fine sushi topped with microgreens and truffle shaving. Further proof that this place is beyond her and her tastes. "Thank you, and the bill, please." Because chances are, any time spent with Alfie is going to blow up.

he hadn't fully kept up with amelia since joining the reserve , he'd been in and out of the country and avoiding her was third in his list -- a list that he intended to keep growing as his time in new york seemed to hone on the more permanent side. he had however noticed she had gotten everything she ever wanted career wise --- she should be fulfilled , right ?

the bartender immediately left to note her order and he couldn't help but want to crawl into whatever hole was closest. he had swore she didn't affect him and still continued not to affect him to this day but he couldn't help but feel , something , as he sat next to her. the closest they had been since she ended things and he left her there in what was supposed to be their apartment. his company left and now it was just them and suddenly the room felt quiet , his mind replaying their last interaction before her voice pulled him out.

It's a fate worse than being strangers, or simply being 'exes.' Their estrangement runs deep, made terrible by Amelia's one track mind and Alfie's pride ensuring it stays that way. What's left is something odd, best avoided. Except New York isn't as big as anyone pretends it to be, and Lottie runs the Reserve like a tight ship. Despite herself, she can't help the light snort; "Did you get a degree in revisionist history since I last saw you?" It comes out of her too quick. That whip-fast wit that was once an instrument of flirtation, now feels like a defense mechanism.

Fighting was how they flirted. Bickering was how she and Alife formed closeness. Arguing was their way to express passion. This? Amelia doesn't know what this is.

She traipses over to the bookcase. One of many bookcases, because Cleo has books everywhere. Her fingers dance over the spines of Euripides. de Beauvoir. A catalog from a Berlin exhibition she keeps meaning to finish leafing through. Then, at last, she arrives at the right one, wedging free a copy of the Kama Sutra. “Fitting, no?” Cleo flips through the pages, stops on a particularly graphic illustration, and turns it to him. “I think this is what broke the bed, by the way.” Not that she is complaining, smirk toying at her lips, the pale of her eyes wide and airy. “You wanna stay for a nightcap? I’ll put a Kraftwerk record on.”

Still, he takes the book, slotting it underneath the post. Perfect fit. "You know I can't say no to Kraftwerk and a drink. Remember Oktoberfest?" One of their many international escapades. He can still feel that hangover years later. "You sure you don't want me to stay and cuddle?" He doesn't say it in mockery. Rather, in authenticity. Maddox and Cleo may be 'fuck buddies' and 'reckless hedonists.' But they are people, too, and Maddox is a heartfelt person first and foremost. He gives her a small smile, something true and caring. "I'll even knock off in your guest room, if it'll help you sleep." It's not been easy to get back into, with first his cousin and now Romeo haunting his dreams.

alfie had finally settled into new york rather nicely and now his task was to find the best places to eat. alfie had picked up some cooking skills from someone before but now the thought of using his kitchen for anything more than to get a beverage made him sick. so instead he tried to go to a new place every night , somehow he had made it in to a very popular spot , so he opted for a bar seat. he had sprung up conversation with the person next to him , even if he tried to avoid it his accent usually brought on questions and well --- who was he to say no to a free drink. the bartender even lingering in to hear the conversation , chiming in from time to time.

"I--" The bartender's eyes furrow, offended and curious. He glances first at Alfie, then at Amelia, and she catches the question in his eyes. "It's fine." She answers the question in his eyes, lets the bartender exchange her glass for a fresh one. "And just an entree - whatever's easy. No allergies." Implicit in that, whatever the cook can whip up fast. It's not that she's afraid of Alfie. Rather, she's afraid of the ways he can crack her open, and let out the best and worst parts of her. When the bartender leaves, alongside the haughty woman beside Alfie who seems snubbed by the gestures, they are alone. As alone as they can be, in a busy restaurant.

"You know," she starts, finally acknowledging him, eyes still averted to her new glass. "I never liked it when you ordered for me." Memories of their messy fights outside of restaurants come back to vision. But so to did those impassioned kisses shortly after.

Despite everything that she now knew about their father, Lottie hadn't thought of just how fractured his other family was. She had seen how much he hurt Amelia with her own eyes, but she'd had very little time to consider that another woman, Amelia's mother, had been victim to his wrath. Hearing it out loud seemed surreal still. She nodded slowly - trying to find the right words of comfort? Understanding? She truly didn't know what to offer her. "But she's...okay now?"

Charlotte looked back at the screen projector, taking a deep a breath before she spoke up. "He killed her. Made her disappear, actually. I've been looking for her most of my life." The admission came with Lottie's gaze finally moving back to Amelia, her voice slow and soft, all at once. No sign of pain on her face though. "I think I'm the reason he came at you that day, Amelia."

There is a prolonged silence as Amelia plays with the cord of the projector. She can tell Lottie is trying. But like herself, it's no easy thing to bring comfort to the horrors of their childhood with Omar Saab. "Physically, yeah." Amelia answers, after a beat. Emotionally? A whole other thing that she's not equipped to help deal with. She sits up from her seat, eyes wide and alarmed. "What?" She repeats, incredulous. All this time, Amelia thought Omar had a line. That life was one thing he would not take, least of all from his favorite daughter.

"Your poor mother, I'm so..." Amelia is about to burst into apologies, but upon taking a breathe, she realizes fawning isn't her style. Romeo's recent passing as a testament to Lottie's coping mechanism. Instead, she simply shakes her head. "No matter what, he always found a way to hurt me. You." A pause, then she whispers. "Us." Because they are a pair now, the two of them. "Now he can't."

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧’𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 day - harsh, but romy could withstand it. she hadn’t lived in nevada so long for nothing, after all. even the kentucky heat of her childhood could be brutal, despite the lush forest canopy. on this monday afteroon she’d found a patch of shade beneath a crooked tree in the park, sitting cross-legged in the grass with a melting cherry popsicle in one hand and a copy of the national enquirer spread open in her lap. she was deep in an article about a woman who claimed to be in a committed relationship with an alien named vorlan. “hm,” she said, to no one in particular at first. then, after a moment, her eyes lifted toward someone else. “i don’t think folks are open-minded enough about interplanetary love.” her face didn’t change. no smile, no wink, like she’d been waiting all day to defend a woman from ohio and her extraterrestrial boyfriend. “reckon you’d ever date an alien?” she asked, letting the question hang there as if it were perfectly normal. “if you believe in them, i mean.” she glanced back down at the paper, thoughtful. “i drove the extraterrestrial highway once. saw the area 51 alien museum and stuff. sometimes thinkin’ about the stars is a good distraction from what’s goin’ on here on earth.”