tremors turn to quake

miguel let the last drag of his cigarette burn slow between his fingers. he wasn’t mad. not really. with rhea, you learned to pad your expectations with a ten-minute grace period and even then, that was being generous. but when he caught the chaos charging down the sidewalk, a blur of fur, frantic energy, and rhea, well he understood immediately. he exhaled smoke through his nose, amused, watching as the dog practically cartwheeled her down the street towards him. he watched as she came towards him, breathless, hair a little wild, voice already spinning a thousand words a minute. miguel raised a brow, flicking the cigarette to the curb as greenday made a leap for his chest. “dios mío,” miguel muttered, steadying himself with a chuckle as he gently pushed the dog back down. “let me guess this what you call a quiet morning?” his eyes softened when they landed on her flushed face, the clear strain of the morning still hanging off her like static. he crouched slightly, giving greenday a quick scratch behind the ears, then looked back up at her. “rhea, if i bailed on lunch every time my life got a little inconvenient, we’d never see each other. he’s fine. you’re here. come on, let’s grab something. unless you need to be medicated now too.” he offers her a crooked grin and tipped his head toward the café. “besides, I think he kinda likes me.”

It takes a moment to catch her breath, the flurry of words of apology out of her in an exhale, and to brush hair out of her eyes. It isn't much of a reprieve when the excitable dog jumps, right onto Miguel's chest, and she feels terrible, tugging at the harness, reprimanding the dog as best as she can. "He is a terror, I love him, but he's a terror," she says once she catches her breath and watches as he kneels down to pet the dog, and as much as she doesn't want to feel it, a small warmth blossoms in her chest at the exchange. "He likes you," she remarks when he straightens up and a beam lights up her face when he doesn't cancel their lunch. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to see me a little less, my life is chaos," she follows, falling into step beside him, shoulders almost brushing as they make their way towards the cafe. "I wouldn't be able to handle it, of course, I barely see you as it is," the dog veers, pulling her slightly into Miguel, a hand reaching out to steady herself against his arm. "But I will find some way to make my peace. Probably with that medication you think I need," she teases, chuckling slightly, falling easily into their usual banter as they approach an outdoor seat at the cafe. "You got lunch last time, it's my turn. I mean it this time."

he leans against the side of a beat-up black crown vic, the kind that looked like it’d seen things and kept its mouth shut. normally he wouldn’t be caught dead with anything that had four wheels, but his baby was in the shop. miguel refused to ride anything else. hoodie layered under his leather cut, chain just visible at his collar, hands tucked into his pockets like they had nowhere better to be. city sounds buzzed low around him—distant sirens, bass from some passing car, the occasional shout from a block away. but he wasn’t listening. his gaze was locked watching the end of the street. waiting. not that he’d ever say that out loud. this was just a link-up. nothing special. just two friends hanging out, right? except his phone had buzzed three times earlier and none of them were from them, and now he was pretending not to care while he checked the time for the fourth. “you ghostin’ me or what?” miguel muttered under his breath, a crooked grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. “kinda rude for someone who stole my hoodie last week.” he shifted his weight, boot scuffing the curb. lighting a cigarette, mostly for something to do with his hands. he’d play it cool— like he always did. but if they showed? yeah, he’d probably smile like a fool. 

To assume that Rhea knew how to turn up on time to something would've been a mistake except this time she did try to be on time. She really did. But amidst a somewhat chaotic morning where her sister had dropped off her dog without giving Rhea much of an opportunity to say no, it had messed up her routine. Coffee. Run. Lunch with Miggy. And now she was wrestling an eighty pound bundle of endless energy as it dragged her down the street. Out of breath and patience, Rhea puffed up to where she could see him waiting, already waiting for the light ribbing she knew was coming about her time keeping skills. He was smoking a cigarette that looked like it was almost done, which meant he had been waiting some time. "Sorry, sorry, honey, oh my god, you have no idea what my morning looked like, my sister dropped off her dog because she had some sort of emergency and he needs to be medicated, because apparently he gets anxious and - Greenday! Down!" She tugged on the leash as the dog attempted to jump up and jam his nose into Miguel's chest. "Is this annoying? Should I just take him home and we can hang next week?"

he  glares  at  her  with  the  air  of  a  man  personally  victimized,  though  the  twitch  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth  gives  him  away.  "  marcus  breaks  out  in  hives  at  the  mere  sight  of  a  fourth  button.  that’s  not  rejection,  it's  self-defense.  "  the  bartender  places  his  drink  against  the  square  napkin,  but  it's  not  lonely  for  long.  he's  gonna  need  more  than  one  of  these  to  survive  the  night.  "  you  said  it  yourself:  i'm  always  the  hero  where  you're  involved.  "  always  sweeping  in  to  save  the  day.  one  would  think  she'd  grow  tired  of  the  same  ole  antics.  heaven  knows  he  was.  "  maybe  i'll  switch  it  up.  "  he  bites,  shifting  in  his  seat  so  that  he's  facing  her  instead  of  the  liquor  wall.  "  give  someone  a  guided  tour  of  my  throw  pillows.  very  exclusive  event.  "

" - a fourth - what are you talking about?" She asks with confusion. "Whatever, just leave Marcus out of this, he's dealing to put himself through college okay, and unlike you, I believe in the future of our generation," she watches as he shifts to face her and as always, his gaze disarms her for that tiny moment and she has to recollect herself. It's easier to redirect and an elbow is placed on the bar top, her cheek into the hand, and she levels him with an interested expression. "This hero role - " she uses her free hand to gesture to all of him, " - is a self proclaimed title, I want that to be made clear." The rest of his sentence makes her feel defensive somehow, the idea of him giving someone else that 'tour' makes her feel some sort of way. Not that she wants him to know that. "Good. Maybe you should. There's a person right over there who looks like they might appreciate the heck out of your...throw pillows."

                             “     my     feelings     for     you     haven't     changed     ,     it's     just     . . .     i     need     to     focus     ,     okay     ?     on     work     . . .     on     this     upcoming     deal     we're     trying     to     seal     . . .     you're     a     distraction     .     ”

Honestly, it's not what he expects to hear. But he's not even sure what he really expects to hear. "Right, yeah," he swallows a lump in his throat. "I'm not the distraction. But you have to admit that we have something and you can't - you can't just throw it away."

"  you  hardly  even  know  him,  "  he  countered,  offering  a  lazy  shrug  of  his  shoulders  in  a  half-hearted  attempt  to  appear  indifferent.  but  the  truth  of  his  feelings  was  written  all  over  his  face,  far  too  transparent  for  his  own  comfort.  so,  he  dropped  down  next  to  her,  muttering  under  his  breath  something  about  impending  hernias  as  a  way  averting  her  attention.  "  you  know,  "  hand  raises  to  alert  the  bartender,  "  as  much  as  i  appreciate  the  bright  light  your  reckless  decisions  cast  on  me,  i'm  more  than  happy  to  hang  up  my  guardian  angel  wings  for  a  weekend  or  two.  maybe,  just  maybe,  there  are  other  things  i'd  rather  be  doing  with  my  time.  "

"Why are you so mean to Marcus? Has he recently rejected you on the altar of love?" She asks with a quirk of the brow. Truthfully, she wasn't trying to antagonise him on purpose, but it just seemed almost too easy and too entertaining to rile him up sometimes. Briony's satisfaction isn't hidden with her smirk as he takes a seat. "And pray tell why on earth would my reckless decisions," she makes the air quotes with a barely contained roll of the eyes, "cast anything on you?" She orders another drink when the bartender takes his order. "What else have you got going on tonight? Organising your linen pants by colour perhaps? Or practising your human expressions in the bathroom mirror?"

"  god  forbid  i  protect  what's  left  of  those  braincells from whatever sketchy crap marcus dug out of his sock drawer.  "  he  pins  her  with  a  look,  while  shoving  his  hands  deep  into  his  pockets.  "  i'm such a monster for ensuring  you  wake  up  tomorrow  with  all  your  neurons  intact.  and  by  the  way,  i  don’t  need  a  bad  haircut  to  be  pissed  off  —  you  putting  yourself  in  stupid  situations  is  more  than  enough.  "

“Hey,” she rounds on him, a bite to her tone. “You leave Marcus out of this. He’s a good guy,” she insists but they both know she’s just defensive. “I don’t think I would have died. Gosh you’re dramatic. Besides if I don’t try to have a bit of fun, who else is going to let you sweep in and save the day?” She pats the spot next to her. “Will you just sit and have a drink? You’re about to pop a hernia.”

“you think i haven’t noticed you?” as she steps further into her hotel suite amaris speaks to the seemingly empty room. she knows she isn’t alone though. has seen them tailing her all weekend. in the corner of every room, just out of her eyeline. “what are you waiting for? i thought you might make a scene at the gala tonight but,” she stops at the mini-bar and cracks open the vodka that sits on it, pouring herself out a healthy measure, “i can appreciate the intimacy of a hotel room.”

It's kind of poetic. Kind of. He knew she was no fool and as such, had probably noticed his presence that weekend. Montana usually liked to keep a much lower profile but maybe he had wanted her to notice him, some sort of perverse desire to have her attention on him before he did what needed to be done. He had ample opportunity too, and quite a few moments that any well trained man in his position could have turned into an opportunity. "I just wanted to get a closer look at you," he said, unashamed. "That dress you wore tonight was lovely," he complimented her. "Wanted to have a look and unfortunately for the both of us, I'm quite a selfish man."

"  if  getting  high  off  of  temporary  attention  constitutes  as  fun,  a  greater  conversation  needs  to  be  had.  wouldn't  you  think  ?  "

"It's not like I'm allowed to actually get high. Not with you around. What's your problem? Did you miss some sort of bad haircut convention and now you're taking it out on me?"

It was obvious he was thriving off of the chaos he had created, there had been no reason why either one of them had to be seen or found out but being the complete pain in the ass that he was, Cristov had not only gotten their hiding spots found out but started the damn fight. They'd come out on top and Cristov would absolutely make that a point to be known, the classic 'but did you die?' retort that really didn't save face at all. Chances were, if the other hadn't been there also, Cristov would have still gotten in some sort of trouble, he was good at it. Fortunately, he was also fairly good at getting himself out of trouble or in the worst case scenario, denying anything happened at all and that nothing was ever his fault.

"You fucker," she grunts, standing and taking a few deep breaths. "I thought Russians were meant to be good at this," she has a rifle in her hand that she uses momentarily as a crutch because needing his help furthermore than helping her to stand is more than she can bear. "Were you feeling particularly stupid or did your brain finally give out trying to aim and breathe at the same time? You could have gotten us both killed." She shoots him a glare and then takes a deep breath to compose herself. "I maintain that I got the hit. You just happen to also be here, like...a sidekick. Or...one of those very annoying ventriloquist dolls."

" i  was  looking  out  for  you.  i  didn't  know  that  was  a  fucking  crime.  "

"It's not. But there's a difference between looking out for me and ruining the fun."

"Instagram," he said easily, waving his phone in his hand a little. "You really should have less of a life online and try to live in the moment a bit more, lots of people tagging you here tonight," he said. "You must be very popular." And it wasn't that he didn't know that, but it felt fun to poke her a little. "Now, if you would just save us both the trouble and just accept that this is my job and you clearly need watching, you can even enjoy yourself a little, hm?"

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