PRIMADONNA

➥ timestamp: evening, nov. 18

➥ status: closed starter for @ftgrace

“What do you think-” Nathan says, nodding towards a table in the far corner. “-first date or the middle of a breakup?”

Awkwardness radiates from the couple seated there, their conversation obviously stiff and stilted, with two menus half raised like shields between them. Whichever answer proves true, it's obvious the evening isn't going well for them.

It's a game he likes to play every time he and Grace go out to dinner, finding the most likely source of drama and turning it into free entertainment for the night. The wine list lays forgotten in front of him. He turns back to her, one eyebrow raised playfully. “How much do you want to bet she'll walk out before the main course even makes it to their table?”

The little game they played was a favorite of hers going all the way back to their childhood. It had honed Grace’s observation skills which had served her supremely well in her line of work. “She doesn’t seem like the walking-out type,” she said, picking up her glass of wine and swirling it thoughtfully. “She’s far too composed, but he looks like he’s two sharp comments away from giving up entirely.” Grace’s tone was teasing, but something in her voice suggested she’d seen her fair share of dinners like this over the years.  “I think they could get through the main course,” she paused and tilted her head, considering. “Dessert, however? Not a chance. She’ll claim she’s not hungry, he’ll offer to call a cab, and the whole thing will dissolve like nothing ever happened.” Grace leaned forward slightly, adding conspiringly, “But I’ll wager my dessert on it, if you’re feeling confident.”

Theo accepted the steaming cup of coffee from the barista with a murmured thanks, then turned his attention to the person who’d commented on the cold. His grin was immediate, teasing. “Oh, it’s definitely winter’s opening act. You can tell because everyone’s still pretending they don’t need gloves. Including me.” He raised the paper cup like a shield, his fingers already pink from the chill. “But come January, we’ll all be bundled up like mummies, questioning every life choice that brought us to Illinois.” He paused, his grin softening into a curious tilt of his head. “You must be better prepared than me, though. What’s your secret? Layers? Thermal socks? Some ancient ritual you’d be willing to share? I'm not a creature of the cold. I'm meant to migrate South, like birds do.”

He shrugged, ducking down behind the menu again and mumbling, “Lunch is lunch. Doesn't need to be fancy.” Though he couldn't imagine Miss Connor slumming at a burger joint. She'd stick out like... well, like he did here.

A curiosity he neither needed nor wanted gnawed at him. After a minute or so of scanning the list of food before him and not taking anything in, he gave up and put it down. “If you've tried and she's not interested then why are you asking around? Sounds like a lost cause. Don't you have other people you can work with?”

➥ tagging @ftgrace

At his question, she paused, choosing her words carefully. “It’s not as simple as a failed business venture.” Her gaze turned shrewd, studying him carefully once again. For some reason, Jack felt like a safe person to be at least somewhat honest with. “Reputations were harmed – hers and my family’s alike – and I’m quite determined that together we could repair the damage.”  And then, there was the matter of Ash. “I’ve also stumbled upon… my estranged sis–sibling,” Grace stumbled over her words slightly as she caught herself before misgendering her sibling. The last conversation she’d had with Ash had been a lot to take in but Grace had learned something new about them and was making an effort. She wasn’t sure Ash would ever believe the effort from her, but it needed to be done nevertheless. “I’ve decided to remain in town a bit longer. And while I’ve other clients I’m still working with, it’s quite important to me not to give up on Madisyn just yet.”

Leo never argued with the fact that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed - it was just the truth, and he was nothing if not honest to a harmful degree. However, as he stared at the world's gaudiest Aston Martin in The Jade Palace's dimly lit parking garage, a sense of pride thrummed through them. It'd been a journey that started with Latte Love and took more lies than he'd ever performed in his life - which was saying something - to get the answers he needed, and it felt exceedingly worth it, enough that he almost forgot to check his surroundings and take in where the security camera's in the garage were facing before approaching her car.

"Jesus." Up close, Leo felt a bit guilty for mentally cursing how ugly the car was - considering it was actually, undeniably stunning. He felt like something stepped on and smeared off of the bottom of someone's shoe just being so close to it, staring at his reflection before quickly sending up a plea of forgiveness to whatever Vehicle God's were watching. It was all meant to go very quickly after that - switch blade flipped open and stabbed into the passenger seat tire before more time could pass and risk someone entering the parking area. All in all, it was generally easier said than done. But Leo's blade had apparently been on the rustier side, or these were the toughest tires he'd ever come across, because the knife went in, but it didn't come out. Not even a budge.

"Um." Leo said, to no one but himself, blinking once, then twice - a third time, and still he was tugging on the handle to no avail. Leo had done this before, it'd never been this difficult. Hearing someone approaching, he felt a distant panic, beginning to scramble slightly as he cursed under his breath. "Motherfucking - work with me here, fuck, fucking - fuck!" Handle slipping from his grasp - but of course staying firmly in the tire still - Leo flew backwards into the car parked beside his target, smashing his head off the back and setting off the alarm, effectively giving his exact spot away. Not that it mattered - of course it'd be Grace Connor who decided to be the one to enter the parking garage at that moment. "Back off -," The word bitch was on the tip of Leo's tongue, but he could practically feel Ash ripping it right out of his mouth. "- asshole!" Hardly better. "This is an act of revenge and justice! I - ow - I have lawyers!" They didn't, which was probably clear, as they finally clambered to an unsteady stand, rubbing at the back of his head while doing so.

A man–disheveled and panicked–was hunched over the front passenger tire of her Aston Martin, muttering a string of increasingly frantic curses. He looked up just as she approached, frozen like a deer caught in headlights with his hand still clutching a knife jammed into her tire. The blaring car alarm only added to the chaos. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Grace’s voice rang out, the angry tone cutting through the noise. She took a step closer, carefully assessed the situation to make sure he had no other weapons on him. Grace didn’t recognize him (not that she knew many people in town) but he also clearly wasn’t a professional.  The stranger stumbled back, shouting out more profanities as he collided with the car parked beside hers. “Asshole? How very charming,” she drawled, her accent laced with an icy sarcasm. “I don’t even know who you are! What sort of twisted justice is this?” Grace ran through the list of names who could possibly go so far as to hire some novice to vandalize her car, and she only came up with one name. “Did Madisyn Huang put you up to this?” She took another step forward, her gaze piercing. “I suggest you abandon whatever ridiculous crusade you think you’re on and leave before things get worse for you.”

“Sounds like an adventure. And with a companion as handsome as you, I’d be a fool to deny you,” she said teasingly as they slipped away from the crowd. A warm September breeze embraced them as the walked outside, and for a moment, Grace closed her eyes, savoring the feeling. “Truthfully,” she murmured, glancing up at him. “I agree with you. It’s a lively bunch in there, and the amount of alcohol that is flowing rather freely at the moment will surely occupy them.” There was a softness in her tone, a quiet acknowledgement that, despite appearances, she was glad to escape with him. Even if just for a few moments. Her blue-gray eyes roved over Leandro’s handsome features, searching for that unspoken something that drew her to him. She found it again – that quiet strength that drew her in like a tide to the shore – and smiled. “Thank you again agreeing to join me. I know we haven’t spoken much since we arrived, but I hope you’ve found it enjoyable?” A cheeky smile snuck on to her face before she met Leandro’s gaze again. “Did my dress meet your expectations?”

"Look maybe you should just talk to Madisyn about it yourself," he suggested, picking up the menu. He felt distinctly uncomfortable to be offering advice but saw no alternative. "I don't know what exactly you guys' relationship is, but she seems like a pretty chill person." To him, at least. She didn't bother him while he was working, peppering him with questions, nor did she hover out on the patio watching him like some clients. "If you wanna work with her so bad I mean..." A shrug. God, he hoped this woman wasn't some kind of crazed internet fan. She didn't seem the type, but you could never know and Jack would rather not lose a high paying client over this.

They tilted their head slightly at the mention of a new venture—“Oh? What venture?” This was precisely the line of work so lost on them, how some people had so much money to give away that they’d decided to make a living out of it. It was some form of redistributing wealth, they supposed. Her wife had explained the art of venture capitalism once, but their eyes had begun glazing over at the umpteenth mention of securities and exchanges, so they moved to observing her wife’s features instead, of running their soft nails over her sun-kissed hair, and very soon, there was no talking at all—

—they shook their head, willing themselves to draw their attention back to Grace. The sun caught her hair in the right light, and, by God, perhaps they had a type, after all.

“Hm, that’s what my wife always used to say. As far as I recall, that translates to, ‘I’m a bit fucked.’ Sorry for the word.” They let out a peal of laughter, hoping their words were a bit reassuring, “Hm, I did alright. And you?” An arch of their brow, a bit in challenge. “I bet you’ve found more hearts to break.”

“c’mon, i’ll help you in.” he moved in a half-turn to reach behind him and open the front door with his unoccupied hand. inside, there was a small bench beyond the doorway and a coat rack alongside it, before it was closed off by another set of doors that opened up to the lobby and receptionist’s desk. all decorated by one of the finest interior designers he knew, flown out of manhattan to specifically makeover the building that had once been a bank. gingerly, he helped the damsel into the doorway and directed her towards the bench. “i have a great shoe guy in chicago, i can give you his name if you’d like.” saul closed the front door behind him. “you mind if i take a look?” he asked, pointing at the offending shoe.

Since taking the job he'd been informed that Madisyn was some kind of internet star, but he hadn't looked into anything beyond that. As far as he was concerned, it was none of his business what she did as long as he got paid, and he was being paid more than fairly. Situations like this weren't something he'd bargained on when he'd taken the job.

He shifted back as she leaned forward, unsure as to whether he preferred the brusque, business-like attitude or... this. "Look, lady, I don't know what you've heard, but I think there might've been a misunderstanding. You know I'm just the gardener, right?" An olive branch. Suspicion was rising rapidly in his gut. "It's not like... some giant reno project. I'm just sprucing up the place."

“I understand that you’re the gardener, Jack,” she replied with a measured tone, offering a small, almost disarming smile. “I was just hoping that you could offer some perspective.” Grace noted the way he had retreated from her, a frown still glued to his face. “I’m not asking for anything extreme, I just don’t know very many people in town yet, and I learned your name through the grapevine. I was just hoping that by understanding the project you’re working on for Madisyn, it would help me understand her better. Maybe help the project somehow.”  Although, hearing that it was a much simpler project than she had initially anticipated probably meant there wouldn’t be somewhere that she could jump in and save the day by writing big fat check. Grace sighed, “However, it seems I might have misjudged the nature of the project she hired you for. I am just trying to find a way to mend bridges. I’d rather not make things worse than they are.” Grace let the words hang in the air for a moment, leaning back and glancing through the menu. “If nothing else, please enjoy lunch on me. I feel sorry for wasting your time.” She hoped he’d see that she wasn’t asking for anything underhanded. Still, Grace wasn’t sure how much he’d buy it, but she had to try. She wasn’t above doing whatever it took to get back into Madisyn’s good graces, but she’d hoped not to need to resort to drastic measures.