mad world!

"And then he started laughing when I told him the total," Hanne explained theatrically, waving her hands around. "I guess he thought he was at the grocery store buying $20 wine and not in an established small town winery trying to purchase 3 bottles of 2017 Chardonnay." This was one of the main reasons she didn't enjoy working in the gift shop of Crystal Cove. They offered tours of the place for tourist and they'd come in wearing their khakis and flip flops and expect cheap wine to buy at the end. Hanne's winery didn't sell cheap wine. She hadn't worked as hard as she had over the past few decades to sell her luxury wine for an Andrew Jackson. The wine they made was defined by its exclusivity, limited availability, and their rigorous vineyard practices. There was a cost to that.

"Needless to say," Hanne went on. "He left empty-handed, muttering something about my audacity." She rolled her eyes. "Anyway," She grabbed the bottle of wine the man tried to buy from the shelf behind her and held it up. "Fancy a free glass of 2017 Chardonnay?" She owned the place, Hanne could do whatever she wanted. Had the tourist not laughed in her face, she would've offered him a discount, but alas.

⸻ Felix leaned his massive six-foot-five frame casually against the polished edge of the tasting counter, his hazel-green eyes tracking the expressive, theatrical wave of Hanne’s hands with quiet fascination. Standing there in his usual oversized Washington flannel and worn joggers, his long blonde hair tucked loosely behind his ears, he looked far more like a local mechanic than an elite principal dancer. He let out a low, rumbling chuckle at the climax of her story, a classic, boyish dimple flashing on his cheek. Having grown up with a mother in school catering, Felix knew a thing or two about the rigid realities of budgeting and what things should cost, but he also deeply respected the brutal, unyielding labor that went into mastering a craft, whether it was a flawless ballet variation or a premium vintage.

When Hanne pulled the bottle from the shelf and offered him a free glass of the exclusive Chardonnay, Felix blinked twice in mild surprise, his intuitive gaze shifting from the elegant label back to the winery owner. ❛ Blimey. Well, far be it from me to turn down a proper drink.❜ Felix murmured, his deep London accent rolling out smooth and polite as he adjusted his posture, giving her his full attention. ❛ Sure! I'd love a glass, cheers. ❜ He didn't intend to get completely wasted, of course, his training regime with the Zurich company was grueling, and he had a demanding rehearsal scheduled for the morning, but a single glass of high-end comfort was exactly what his jet-lagged system needed.

Swirling the pale gold liquid briefly to catch the aroma, he took a slow, appreciative sip, letting the crisp flavor settle before leveling a deadpan, highly amused look at Hanne. ❛ I reckon your tourist friend missed a proper trick then.❜ He countered, a dry smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. ❛ Though, to be fair, I’m still just settling into the area myself. If you ever need a towering bouncer to escort the khaki-and-flip-flop crowd out the door when they start muttering about your audacity, you let me know, love. I might not know much about luxury grapes yet, but I can certainly handle the crowd control for you. ❜

                    she   couldn't   help   but   laugh   .   “   the   local   cuisine   is   crisps   ?   ”   ziva   asked   ,   though   she   took   another   anyway   .   the   greasy   goodness   was   too   delicious   to   ignore   ,   and   she   could   never   take   only   one   .   they   were   addictive   that   way   .   as   she   watched   the   show   play   out   before   them   ,   she   wondered   how   much   practice   had   gone   into   it   all   .   they   weren't   doing   too   terribly   ,   but   they   weren't   exactly   polished   ,   either   .   nothing   could   compare   to   the   grueling   hours   of   repetitive   movements   ,   the   unending   time   on   her   feet   ,   but   they   were   trying   and   she   had   to   give   them   some   props   for   that   .

                    at   felix's   question   ,   she   almost   paled   .   “   my   god   ,   no   .   who   wants   the   fame   and   all   that   attention   ?   ”   she   asked   ,   shaking   her   head   .   the   most   she   got   now   were   little   girls   coming   up   to   her   and   giving   her   flowers   after   shows   ,   and   that   was   about   all   she   could   handle   .   the   limelight   wasn't   meant   for   her   .   people   knew   her   for   ballet   ,   certainly   ,   but   they   didn't   know   ziva   .   she   was   closed   off   from   the   world   ,   not   wanting   anyone   to   see   her   true   personality   .   she   wasn't   sure   why   she   was   that   way   ,   but   she   did   know   that   she   didn't   plan   on   changing   any   time   soon   .

                    “   why   ?   are   you   having   thoughts   of   grandeur   ?   ”   she   grinned   ,   noting   the   glint   in   felix's   eye   .   “   i   think   you   would   make   a   fantastic   actor   ,   if   you   gave   it   a   true   shot   ,   but   you'd   better   not   leave   me   yet   .   ”

⸻ Felix let out a soft, rumbling laugh as Ziva reached back into the bag for another chip, his hazel-green eyes crinkling at the corners. ❛ Right now? Yeah, I reckon this is about as Michelin-star as it gets in a place like this. ❜ He teased, his deadpan London accent matching her lighthearted tone. ❛ Enjoy the grease, love. Don't think too deeply about the macro-nutrients today. ❜ He shifted his large, six-foot-five frame slightly, adjusting his posture on the grass as his attention drifted back toward the makeshift stage. He watched the local performers with a relaxed, unbothered curiosity. They lacked the brutal, repetitive discipline of the Zurich company, but there was an honest, unpolished charm to their effort that he couldn't help but respect.

When he turned back to her, however, her visceral, almost pale reaction to his question caught him completely off guard. He blinked twice, his intuitive gaze softening as he took in her defensive posture. ❛ Fair enough, bloody hell. ❜ Felix murmured, holding up a hand in a gentle, placating gesture. ❛ Didn't mean to give you a fright. I just thought you might have fancied testing your boundaries in a different creative circle, that's all. ❜

recognizing neither his face or his voice, she knew he must've been new to pinehaven. after living here for twenty four years & becoming familiar with practically everyone (willing or through word of mouth -- there were few secrets that didn't circulate through the townies), it was nice to meet the occasional newbie. judging by his accent, he was a long way from home.

darcy was relieved that maple's wandersome habits were, in this instance, were well received. " thank you ! " she said in response to him dubbing the dog brilliant. " this is maple. she's well trained, I swear ... just friendly. " then his mention of failing to fix his motorbike earned a titter from the redhead. " ah, yeah, I must have missed that. " she replied, a hint of playfulness to her tone. she didn't usually frequent the performances that the ballet studio put on, but she certainly had respect for the profession. " well, consider this your welcome to pinehaven ! i'm darcy. " the girl gave him a greeting nod whilst identifying herself. " if you need anyone to show you around, let me know -- i'm a local. " it was a genuine offer, she enjoyed showing off what pinehaven had in store. the opportunity of making a new friend was also a plus. " I know moving to a new town can be tough, so ... " darcy shrugged, ending her statement wordlessly. despite not venturing much beyond the confinements of this small town, she could imagine how intimidating it could be to move into such a tight knit community.

⸻ Felix looked down at Maple, a trace of genuine warmth softening his tired features. He had never been able to own a pet in his life; once classical dance became his full-time profession, his existence had been entirely trapped inside a suitcase, making it impossible to give an animal the proper time or attention it deserved. Now that he had the chance, he wasn't about to pass up the distraction. ❛ It's completely fine, nothing to worry about.❜ He reassured her, giving the Australian Shepherd one last gentle pat on the head. Besides, the dog hadn't done anything to pester him, and looking into that enthusiastic face, he figured only a right villain could actually stay mad at her.

He straightened up to his full, towering height, wiping his damp hands on his shorts before offering a polite, slightly formal nod. ❛ I'm Felix. Felix Axl Cavendish. ❜ He always introduced himself with his full name, a lingering habit from years of dealing with strict artistic directors and press calls. When Darcy extended the genuine offer to show him around the tight-knit community, Felix let out a soft, appreciative chuckle. His intuitive nature picked up on her welcoming energy, and the thought of having a local guide was far too good to pass up.

                to   her   credit   ,   she   was   wearing   sunglasses   .   the   deadpan   ‘   no   ’   caught   her   off   guard   ,   one   of   her   hands   reaching   up   to   remove   the   shades   from   her   face   momentarily   to   see   exactly   who   had   decided   to   slight   her   on   such   a   beautiful   day   .   the   sun   blinded   her   for   a   few   seconds   ,   but   it   didn't   matter   ;   she   would   recognize   his   voice   anywhere   .   “   felix   ,   you   fool   ,   ”   she   said   ,   a   smile   winding   its   way   into   her   tone   of   voice   as   she   carefully   sat   down   beside   him   .   they   were   quite   the   pair   when   next   to   each   other   ,   stark   contrasts   at   every   angle   ,   but   that   must   have   been   why   they   were   so   frequently   partnered   together   .

                she   daintily   reached   into   the   extended   bag   of   chips   ,   crinkling   her   nose   up   at   the   way   the   grease   transferred   onto   her   fingers   .   she   preferred   her   healthier   snacks   ,   but   she   could   indulge   in   some   junk   food   every   now   and   then   .   “   i   haven't   decided   yet   ,   ”   she   said   ,   looking   back   to   him   with   a   small   laugh   .   “   alright   -   i   might   judge   them   a   little   bit   ,   but   i   guess   everyone   can't   be   the   zurich   ballet   ,   hm   ?   ”

⸻ A quiet, rumbling chuckle escaped his chest the moment she lowered her shades, his intuitive gaze catching the flash of recognition on her face before the summer sun could fully blind her. Felix watched with a trace of quiet amusement as she carefully settled onto the fabric beside him, her delicate movements providing a stark, familiar contrast to his own sprawling, six-foot-five frame. He didn't miss the subtle way her nose crinkled as her fingers brushed the grease inside the potato chip bag. While Felix generally maintained a hyper-disciplined diet to fuel his grueling training, he had never been precious about a bit of junk food when the mood struck.

❛ One day won't kill you, love. ❜ He pointed out, his casual London accent rolling out deadpan as he gave her a reassuring nudge with his elbow. ❛ Besides, we’re technically attending a town event. Gotta support the local culture, or whatever it is the flyers from the artistic directors were rambling on about. ❜ His eyes drifted back to the bustling crowd, lazily analyzing the various groups of locals drifting between the festival. When she conceded that she might judge the local talent a bit, adding that nobody could quite compare to their company, the slow, familiar smirk returned to the dancer's face.

the heavy drop in temperature at the mention of the company’s loss wasn't lost on him. dante’s gaze softened beneath the rim of his glasses, a flicker of quiet understanding replacing his usual charm. he knew the brutal weight of watching a life get cut short and the sudden silence it left behind. for a beat, he just let the space breathe, giving the dancer's grief the room it deserved without trying to gloss over it with a clever line. but dante didn't linger in the shadows for long; reality was something he actively avoided, preferring to pull people back into the light with him. when felix’s larger fingers wrapped around his, the contrast was staggering and dante didn't pull back immediately. instead, letting the solid handshake linger just a fraction of a second longer before reclaiming his hand to lightly tap the side of his glass.

"an even exchange. i like a man who demands fair trade," dante purred, his blithe demeanor snapping back into place effortlessly as he leaned his chin right back into his palm. he let out a melodic sigh, looking around the dark, sticky perimeter of the booth as if he were an exiled prince reporting from a far off colony. "you're looking at a first year surgical resident. specifically, the neuro department at saint mary's hospital," he revealed, a self satisfied little grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "i spend my sunless daylight hours meticulously slicing into the human subconscious, trying to fix the wiring inside people's skulls. think of it as choreography, just...with a scalpel and significantly higher stakes."

he took another slow sip of his cocktail, his dark eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and blatant interest as he locked his gaze back onto the towering dancer. "as for what brings a creature of luxury like myself to a delightful little disaster of a dive bar? simple. i am currently staging a highly desperate escape from an absolute mountain of digital patient charting that is entirely beneath my dignity. and honestly? the universe clearly knew i needed a distraction from the hospital's monochrome aesthetic, because looking at you beats staring at a glowing screen hands down."

⸻ Retracting his hand as the handshake broke, Felix let his arm drop heavily back onto the table, his intuitive gaze sharpening as he listened to Dante outline his profession. A first-year surgical resident in neurology. The comparison to choreography wasn't lost on the dancer, and a small, respectful nod of his head acknowledged the sheer gravity of what the man did for a living. ❛ Blimey. That must require an insane amount of patience, then. ❜ Felix murmured, his low London accent carrying a genuine undertone of appreciation. ❛ And flawless attention. I mean, if I miss a step on stage, I just look a bit of a fool. If you miss a step… Well. Higher stakes is putting it lightly, mate. ❜

Getting a bit more comfortable in the cracked vinyl seat, Felix adjusted the collar of his shirt, his tall frame relaxing into the booth's shadows just as the bartender finally slid his fresh drink across the counter. He picked up the Negroni, swirling the dark crimson liquid for a brief second. It was his absolute favorite, strong, unapologetic, and carrying a sharp, bitter citrus aroma that cut right through the stale beer smell of the dive bar.

He was just raising the glass to his lips when Dante delivered his blatant, unapologetic line about him being a far better view than a hospital screen. Felix paused, the glass hovering inches from his mouth as the sheer audacity of the compliment left him temporarily speechless. A sudden, genuine laugh broke from his chest, a rare, bright reaction that caused deep, boyish dimples to pop onto his cheeks. He shook his head, looking down at his drink with a mixture of quiet amusement and absolute disbelief. Oh, bloody hell. This definitely wasn't how he expected his quiet night to start, but then again, he’d learned long ago that the best things happened when you stopped expecting anything at all.

felicity’s thumbs froze mid swipe, the tapping on her glowing screen instantly ceasing as the heavy thud of his luggage echoed down the corridor. she whirled around, a fresh wave of colorful exasperation washing over her features as she watched his massive silhouette casually disappear into the back of the apartment. the audacity of him just marching off to claim territory like a colonial explorer was enough to make her jaw drop all over again. "unbelievable," she muttered, her voice a mix of a breathless laugh and a strained groan. she trailed after him, her boots clicking loudly against the hardwood floorboards as she stopped right at the threshold of the hallway, leaning against the plaster wall with her arms thrown up in a gesture of utter defeat.

from her vantage point, she could see him sprawled out on the mattress of the smaller room, looking like a discarded marionette whose strings had been completely severed. the image of a towering classical dancer cramming himself into the smaller square footage out of some bizarre, old school sense of chivalry was so profoundly ridiculous that it took the edge off her rising panic. "unpacked your kettle? oh, well, pack it right back up, sir thomas lipton," she shot back city wasn't hiding behind a blank stare anymore; her eyes were bright, her expressions fluid and shifting with every ounce of the chaotic energy humming through her veins. "you can't just drop anchor in the harbor and declare yourself a permanent resident! what happened to working out a compromise? what happened to fighting the machine together?"

she let out a dramatic sigh, her shoulders dropping as she slid her phone into the pocket of her oversized trench coat. the device remained entirely uncooperative, the customer service wheel spinning into oblivion, which only highlighted the grim reality of her situation. she looked from his long legs dangling off the edge of the mattress to the empty bedroom right across the hall from him.

"fine. keep the kettle out," she relented, a wry surrender soaked laugh escaping her lips as she ran a hand through her hair, messing up the strands completely. "but for the record, i am officially lodging a complaint with the universe. if i'm forced to share a roof with a giant who thinks an accent and a tiny bedroom choice makes up for a lack of a backup plan, i'm taking the larger room by right of emotional damages. and tomorrow morning, we are having a very serious, very loud conversation with whatever digital ghost messed up our lives."

⸻ Felix rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, the theatricality of her fresh monologue doing absolutely nothing to soothe the pounding headache building behind his temples. When she dubbed him Sir Thomas Lipton, a dry, humorless huff escaped his nose. He didn't move from his sprawled position on the mattress, but his intuitive gaze tracked her as she leaned against the plaster wall, practically vibrating with chaotic energy. ❛ What happened to fighting the machine. ❜ He repeated, his low voice thick with exhaustion as he lifted his head just enough to look at her. ❛ Is that my body has been trapped in a confined economy-class cubicle for a twenty-three-hour flight, love. Combine that with a mountain of border bureaucracy and three days of absolute sleeplessness, and you’ll find I have zero fight left in me for a digital algorithm. ❜

With a heavy sigh, he sat up on the edge of the mattress, his massive frame shifting with a slow, deliberate fatigue. He unlaced his shoes, dropping them into the corner of the small room with a pair of dull thuds, before pulling off his baseball cap and tossing it onto the bedside table. Reaching up, he pulled his heavy jumper over his head, leaving him in a simple white ribbed tank top and dark joggers. The casual, athletic layers did little to hide the disciplined, muscular build of a principal dancer, or the raw, broad-shouldered frame of someone who knew how to throw a punch.

He leaned his back against the wall at the head of the bed, crossing his arms over his chest as his hazel-green eyes locked onto her. ❛ And no, I don’t intend to pack the kettle back up anytime soon, whether it suits your narrative or not. ❜ He pointed out, his deadpan tone clipping the edge of his words. Her constant jabs at his voice were finally grating on his last nerve. Felix tilted his head, a flicker of genuine irritation crossing his features as his London accent sharpened slightly. ❛ And if you could kindly stop addressing my accent like it’s a theatrical prop, I’d bloody well appreciate it. I could easily make a few observations about yours, and I reckon you wouldn't like the critique much. ❜

felicity's jaw dropped, a completely unshielded laugh of absolute disbelief breaking from her as she stared at the glowing confirmation on his screen. she threw her hands up in the air, pacing an agitated circle in the center of the cramped living room before spinning back around to face him. "no, no, absolutely no way," naturally, it didn't matter how dismissive she was, it didn't change the outcome. "it has to be a joke. i've just spent the last three weeks in a crappy motel with a broken ac and questionable stains on the carpet, and i am not about to just casually surrender my sanity to a stranger because some tech support algorithm fell asleep at its keyboard."

she practically lunged toward the kitchen counter, her long fingers flying across the cracked screen of her own phone as she checked, rechecked, and aggressively refreshed her reservation email. city wasn't ready to just roll over and accept this ridiculous reality yet. there had to be a glitch. a cancellation. a misplaced digit in the address. something that could fix this disaster before it became her life. "look, i noticed there are two separate bedrooms down that hallway when i walked in, which is quite frankly the only reason i haven't called the local authorities on you yet," she said, letting out a heavy sigh that ruffled her hair as she held her device up like a weapon.

"but we are fixing this. we have to. i'm digging through the app's labyrinth of a menu right now to find an actual human customer service hotline. there has got to be a motel down the road, or a vacant bed and breakfast, or a system override they can perform. have you even tried calling your dance coordinators back yet? because unless your company's budget is prepared to fund my psychological evaluation, we need to tag team these airbnb people right now and force them to figure out which one of us gets the boot."

⸻ ❛ Yes, way.❜ Felix countered flatly when she threw out her hands, his patience already wearing dangerously thin. Between the 23-hour flight, the agonizing jet lag, and the heavy fog of grief still clouding his mind, he was far too exhausted to deal with a roommate who was deflecting her frustration onto him. He watched her storm over to the kitchen counter, his intuitive gaze tracking her frantic movements with a look of absolute, deadpan detachment. ❛ Look, love, you can call the local authorities if it makes you feel better. ❜ He sighed, running a massive, calloused hand over his face. ❛ But frankly, I don’t give a damn. Unless there’s a law against being a victim of a terrible tech glitch, they aren't going to arrest me. ❜

As she ranted on about the customer service labyrinth and hotlines, Felix picked up the cues he actually needed from her speech, specifically, the mention of the two bedrooms down the hall. ❛ But cheers for the information. ❜ He added dryly. Leaving her to aggressively refresh her app, the 6'5" dancer grabbed the handles of his luggage and pushed his way down the corridor. He opened both doors to evaluate the space. Remembering his mother's endless catering-logic about how 'ladies always have more bits and bobs to store,' Felix didn't even bother trying to claim the larger room. Despite arriving second, he simply shoved his suitcases into the smaller bedroom, entirely unbothered by the lesser square footage since he traveled light anyway.

with a sweeping gesture toward the vacant expanse of cracked vinyl directly across from the dancer, dante slid into the booth. the movement possessed a fluid grace, the practiced ease of a man who treated every mundane action as a performance for an invisible, adoring audience. he let his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose just enough to lock eyes. "babes, anyone with an eye for exceptional artistry would recognize that posture from a mile away," dante murmured, propping his chin up on a heavily ringed hand, the cool metal of his stacked silver rings clinking lightly against the wooden table. "you don't exactly blend in with the local background here. that height with that kind of disciplined conditioning sticks out like a haute couture piece in a thrift store. besides, i make it a strict personal rule to stay thoroughly cultured, even when i'm trapped in a sleepy corner of the pacific northwest."

dante continued, his voice dripping with a syrup thick amusement, "felix cavendish, right? i catch the zurich company streams whenever i’m stuck doing night shifts. what on earth is a principal dancer doing in pinehaven? did you take a wrong turn at seattle, or are you just here to make the local scenery look drastically better?" he leaned forward, entirely unbothered by the towering dancer's naturally guarded stance. to dante, a little friction just made the interaction more entertaining.

"we haven't officially met, no. i'm dante," he offered, unleashing a smile that carried a playful, utterly blatant undercurrent of innuendo, bypassing the traditional conversational slow lanes entirely. "and trust me, babes, if we had crossed paths during any of your glamorous world tours, you wouldn't be sitting there forcing yourself to ask. i'm not exactly the type of person people tend to forget." with a flourish, he extended his hand across the table, his long fingers arched and perched forward; a dramatic invitation for felix to grasp, punctuating an introduction that neither man would be ignoring.

⸻ The tall dancer kept his hazel-green eyes locked onto the stranger, remaining perfectly silent as Dante’s theatrical introduction washed over the booth. Felix didn't pull away from the heavy scent of vanilla and luxury cologne, nor did he shrink back from the deliberate, intense eye contact. He simply watched, his intuitive gaze reading the practiced lines of Dante's posture with a quiet, deadpan fascination. ❛ That's correct. ❜ Felix murmured, a low, smooth London accent confirming his name the moment it left the other man's lips. He blinked twice as the loaded questions began to stack up, his contemplative mind taking a beat to process the overwhelming energy across the table. When Dante asked what a dancer of his caliber was doing in a sleepy town like Pinehaven, the faint, amused smirk vanished from Felix’s face, replaced by a sudden, heavy shadow of grief. ❛ The company brought us here. ❜ He explained, his voice dropping an octave as he gestured vaguely toward the window, as if the quiet mountains outside held the answers. ❛ One of our colleagues passed away recently. The directors decided we needed some fresh air, somewhere far away from the stage, just to clear our heads. ❜ It wasn't exactly a state secret; anyone who followed the Zurich Ballet’s social media pages would have seen the black-and-white tribute posts plastered over their feeds for the last week.

felicity had only just finished claiming the place; tossing her duffels onto the sofa and her worn leather trench coat was draped over the back of the nearest chair like a flag of occupation. the space had been hers for exactly four minutes before it was abruptly, unforgivably compromised. her gaze swept over the intruder with the ambiguous precision she usually reserved for a deeply flawed exhibition. for a fraction of a second, her mind scrambled for a logical explanation, and then her jaw tightened. a quick, volatile flash of irritated disbelief crossed her features as the puzzle pieces clattered into place with agonizing speed. double booked. of course.

when the stranger spoke, the distinct, low timber of his accent drifted across the floorboards, carrying a soft amusement that felt entirely unearned given the circumstances. felicity let out a dry, incredulous breath. "you've got to be kidding me," she said, laced with a heavy dose of sarcasm. she extended an arm, gesturing broadly to the sprawling evidence of her belongings on the couch. a wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth; a symptom of her defense mechanism kicking in, finding the dark comedy in the absolute mess of the situation.

head tilted, her eyes narrowing just enough to let him know she wasn't amused, even if her mouth was trying to be. "i'm really hoping you're just the most aggressively confident customer service representative this airbnb app has ever hired. seriously. the accent is a nice touch, but unless you're planning on sleeping inside that suitcase, we have a catastrophic problem with the floor plan."

⸻ Felix stood entirely frozen, his large frame momentarily crowding the small entryway as he took in the sudden barrage of sharp words. His intuitive gaze swept from the leather trench coat draped over the chair like a declaration of war, down to the duffels already claiming the sofa, and finally to the woman herself. The sheer, volatile disbelief radiating from her was enough to make him blink, a rare moment of genuine confusion momentarily overriding his usual quiet confidence. When she finished her sharp, sarcastic critique of his accent and the apartment’s floor plan, the slow, familiar clatter of realization finally settled into his mind. He let out a soft, spontaneous huff of a laugh, the deadpan humor of the situation breaking through his initial shock.