greetings and salutations

"Probably." As content as she'd always been on her own, she liked keeping a few people around, those she deemed worthy of her time and attention. She didn't care to have a 'best friend' either, or for any of the fanfare that came with it, but she'd acknowledge Holden was her's and they didn't need to make an ordeal of it. "It is," she agreed, point blank, though she couldn't say she'd ever met a greaser she thought was particularly hot. "Really, I didn't peg you for a foot guy. I liked my ideas better but yeah, sure. And then after that we should probably just get guns and kill ourselves right." She waited a beat then cracked a smile, fishing her own pack of cigarettes from her pocket. "Or each other. I'm not really a suicidal person."

"You've never pegged me at all," Holden countered, shaking his head in mock disappointment. To be fair though, he would never allow that because he was obviously in love with the concept of being in control and that was giving the complete opposite. "See," he pulled his lighter out of his pocket, lit it, and held it out for October, "I knew you'd come up with the perfect plan. Oh, for sure, I mean ask me five years ago and I would have pulled the trigger on myself in a heartbeat just to prove a point but where's the fun in that?"

"Well yeah, you respect me." It wasn't said with any sort of flattery, just as fact. "Plus, if you haven't noticed, I think I'm your best friend." It'd been years since they hooked up, a one-time occasion, and she suspected the thrill of that for him came from the fact that she had a boyfriend. Taking what he wasn't supposed to have, as he'd put it. They'd gotten closer since, to the point that yes, if asked, she'd consider him her closest friend. She didn't have as severe a superiority complex as he did; she thought she was better/smarter/worldlier than a lot of people, but not the way Holden did. He had a very short list, she was sure of it, and that's what differentiated her from Tinsley and the Heathers and every iteration of Heather to come- he saw her as a person, an equal, and everyone else was discardable. "And you have so many jackets," she added, teasing, as if the issue was him not needing another. "But they all carry knives... could be fun. I doubt that's something you sign up for."

"Should we make bracelets? Get matching tattoos?" Holden thought the concept of 'best friends' juvenile, but perhaps that was only because he'd been an outlier from the start and there was some jealousy wrapped up in it. Not about the fact that he didn't have friends as such, but more the fact that he found it so difficult to even entertain the idea. People were so untrustworthy to him and he was so angry at the world, it didn't make for a good combination. Still, October was indeed his best friend, one of the only people he would legitimately do anything for, he couldn't even deny that to himself. "Admittedly the knife thing is kind of hot," he shrugged, as if he were truly entertaining the idea. "Not sure the gang hierarchy thing is gonna sit well with me though, so... maybe we could take up bowling? You'd look hot in those clown shoes."

What was nicest about her friendship with Holden was she never felt a need to self-censor or tone herself down. She rarely did anyway but at least with him she knew any intrusive thought she let slip was probably one he'd had too, that she'd be met with recognition rather than concern. There were feelings she couldn't voice to Austin or even her brother, who both, and she knew this wasn't intentional, made her feel like there was something chemically off with her. They asked if she was depressed, and that might've been one way of looking at it— except she'd possessed this same level of apathy as long as she could remember, the cruel and insensitive child she was. She snickered as he pushed her away, "I know it's Tinsley but I still don't think you should talk about women like they're conquests. I expect more of you." Not much more, as his fixations frequently veered into incel territory. "You could try one of mine. I started doing my own taxidermy, and I play the cello. Fencing, but that's impractical, and I had to stop after... let's call it an accident."

"I can talk about men like they're conquests if it would please you. And I don't talk about you like that though, just for reference." He pointed out, though he knew it was a weak defence. People like October didn't come around often, she was entirely in a league of her own. It was something he'd been forced to ruminate on a lot over the course of his life; why he was so leave-able. If he hadn't been so malleable to his father's abuse he might have noted that his mom's depression and the results thereof had nothing to do with him, but he'd been a child at the time and having it beaten into you that the only person on the planet who loved you had lied tended to have an ongoing impact on your ability to trust. "Your own taxidermy..." he pressed his lips together, impressed. "Thought about joining Ace Claymore's little bike club but I don't know if I can get behind the whole matching jackets thing... Not much of a team player, can you believe?"

They were weird for different reasons, each with their own quirks- October with her cold, unfeeling nature and Holden with his obsessions. It had to be why their friendship functioned as well as it did, that they were alike in general strangeness, without sharing any conflicting specifics. She didn’t care about Tinsley, or any other Chadwell or Heather, as much as he did, and yet they all seemed to be constants in conversation. Not that she minded, as she had characters of her own to discuss, like her brother and Axel, who she felt mostly indifferent towards these days but had once loathed, just as he loathed Tinsley. “So much,” she scoffed back, flat, and passed his cigarette back to him. His hand on her jaw, she kept still, unaffected. “Can’t,” she said back, as if she were remotely the type to practice cancel culture. “I’m not on instagram.” At one point she was but in the last year or so she’d gone off the grid, so to speak. “I’m happy for you though.” She looked to Holden, mouth spreading into a grin, “It’s what you’ve always wanted, right.”

He supposed what he liked so much about October was that she shared his chaotic alignment, though she was much more neutral leaning. She understood him in ways Violet never had, and he supposed that was what friendship was supposed to be. In all his years trying to free Violet of the serpentine grip of the Heathers he'd preached until he was blue in the face but he'd just been a sad, lonely boy back then. He'd clung to the first person who seemed to understand him and it had blown up in his face. At least when the dust had settled he'd been awoken to his naiveté, no longer willing to set his heart on a platter for the first well-read woman who came his way. "What I've always- shut the fuck up," he scoffed, squeezing October's face a little as he turned her grin away from himself. "It's about the filth of it all. Tarnishing so called perfection. Taking what someone like me is never supposed to have. Ruining her fairytale." He caught the wrinkle of intensity in his brow and blinked it away, along with the memory of the last time he'd been alone with one Ms Chadwell. "It's getting boring anyway. I need a new hobby."

October gave him a long blank stare, even if she'd hardly looked his way in the first place, then turned, back to the wall beside him. Gone were her days of acting too good for Rosewood parties — which wasn't to say she particularly enjoyed them, or even went to that many, but just like Holden she was bored. And what else was there to do? She glanced down to his outstretched hand, only mildly irritated when she recognized her phone in it. "How reassuring," she said as she re-pocketed her phone, more annoyed with herself for not noticing its absence than she was with him. "Is Tinsley not here?," she asked and plucked his cigarette from between his fingers, smirking while she took a drag. "Or was that only fun when she didn't want to fuck you?"

Holden had grown up somewhat since his revenge-driven Heathers hunting days, the retribution served having ended what had been his entire reason for being for a good few years. Violet had abandoned him, which had forced him to glance in the mirror, to note his self destructively obsessive tendencies. Operative word being note. He sure as hell wasn't going to do anything about it. Obsession was the lifeblood of an artist-- of which he considered himself in the poetic sense. He'd been toying with Tinsley, the most forbidden fruit of them all, but the whole point was the secrecy, the danger, the thrill. None of that would exist if he were picking her up for brunch on a random Tuesday. "Why, you miss her?" he exhaled slowly, expression vaguely sarcastic as she took his cigarette. "Mm, if we hate each other it's still fun. Don't worry," he wandered a knuckle down her jaw, "you're still my favourite. I won't be mad if you... cancel her online or whatever." He scoffed boring under his breath, but was also well aware he was a hair away from sounding like his father saying things were better in the old days when you could call people slurs for fun.

In any other instance, Tinsley wouldn't have uttered the words. She wouldn't have ever let him know the effect that he'd had on her, this being a secret she would have surely taken to the grave. But this was an interesting situation they'd found themselves in. One in which they both didn't want this desire of theirs to be public knowledge. So they found themselves, working together to maintain this secret. And it wasn't like he didn't enjoy hearing that she was hooked, his reaction letting her know he in fact reveled in the knowledge. Her lips soon found his, kissing him hungrily. Their current predicament an afterthought, would it be so bad if they were missing for a bit longer? "Then you better get to work, Deaton." She let him know, breathlessly before kissing him once more. Tinsley, soon found herself lost in the pleasure of his touch. How he knew exactly where to touch and kiss her to evoke a reaction, she didn't quite understand but Holden had her near when a knock at the door broke her out of the moment. "Just one minute," Tinsley said, biting down on her lower lip as she pulled away from Holden. Her hazel eyes meeting his icy blue ones, wishing this moment wasn't being cut short. "Ade." She finished her sentence, the person she'd texted being her sister. ( @adeline-chadwell )

A no questions asked text from her sister had Adeline rushing to meet her in the bathroom, head full with all kinds of questions she allegedly couldn't ask. It could've easily been some mundane, embarrassing thing, like Tinsley came down with food poisoning and locked herself in the bathroom, or she'd had a bad reaction to her last chemical peel. What she found was much more scandalous though, eyes widening when she caught the second pair of feet under the stall, in shoes that definitely weren't her boyfriend's. For discretion's sake she didn't call out her name but quietly knocked on the door, mouthing an 'oh my god' to herself at the movement she heard on the other side. No judgement of course- she welcomed the excitement, ready to pry every last sworn to sister secrecy detail from her later. "It's me, hi," she confirmed, fingers running along the edge of the door while she tried to find some way to unlock it. "It's jammed from the outside... give me a second." Eventually she seemed to get it and though she just as easily could've given Tinsley and her mystery man their privacy she let the door swing open, too nosy to not see this all the way through. "Ta-da." @h-deaton

To be acting the way they were in such a public space was to invite interruptions but Holden still groaned under his breath at the inconvenience. Despite having been so determined to gain their freedom he wondered why he was made to suffer the loss of bringing Tinsley undone one more time– to her sister of all people. "Oops," he smirked at Tinsley, sucking his fingers clean just to be a pain in the ass and etch it into her mind. A gift, he'd call it, for when she was alone later. "Well aren't you timely," he spoke with as much innocence as he possessed, which wasn't much, as the door swung open and revealed the younger Chadwell. "Thirty more seconds and this could have been so much more awkward..." @queen-tinsley

"Of course, you did." Tinsley said, as she continued to scroll down her contacts. Aiden Newbury, no. As sweet as Rosewood's JFK might have been, she knew how those with political afflictions moved. He caught her in a compromising position, he could use that as leverage. "You know, given your reputation, I'd assume that door would have been opened by now. Quite frankly, I'm a bit disappointed." She let him know, the smirk on her features letting him know she was egging him on with purpose. Either he'd get annoyed enough that he'd get the job done faster or he'd forget it all and they'd enjoy themselves another session. Neither which she'd complain about. "It is looking pretty dire on this end." She confirmed for him as she continued to go down her list. "Not as hard as it must be for you." She told him. "You've finally done it. You've got me wrapped around your proverbial finger and yet..." Tinsley raised an eyebrow as he'd yet to use that for his gain... which led her to believe it was because he was enjoying himself. And, how could he not? Her eyes came across a name, an all too familiar name and of course she could call on this person. Duh. The blonde quickly texted her contact with the information of where to find Holden and herself, luckily receiving a reply pretty quickly. "We should be out of here, shortly." She let him know, before blowing him a kiss.

"I'm all about working smarter, not harder," Holden told her as he continued to wiggle at the lock. Generally speaking if he were trying to get into somewhere he shouldn't he'd rather find an unlocked window than fiddle with a locked door. That being said, he didn't tend to find himself in situations with Tinsley Chadwell so he supposed the stakes were getting higher by the day– which was quite the turn on, he wasn't going to lie. "You shouldn't admit that out loud." He was almost there with the door he was sure of it, but Tinsley had captured his attention again and had him abandoning his task in favour of pulling her close again. Some would say they were unnatural but that was the best part. He'd called her an ouroboros before, but the truth was that she wasn't alone, they were doubled serpents, a sign of all-consuming, infinite volatility. "Then we'll have to be quick," he warned against her lips, his hand already snaking under her dress.

"That we certainly can." Tinsley agreed, as they'd certainly found themselves occupied for the last hour. And what a time it'd been. But surely by now, someone had to be looking for her. Tonight's charity gala was a who's who of Rosewood's one percenters— a tax bracket they'd both occupied. She having arrived with several members of her family, he with his ever so elusive father. She lightly swatted his hand from under her chin, before reaching over for her clutch. "How don't you have your wallet?" She asked him, rolling her eyes as she handed over a card. "Be careful with that. It's my SOHO HOUSE membership card." Tinsley let him know, as being a card holding member of the exclusive club was something she held great pride in. Especially when it was the dead of summer and the rooftop pool was the place to be. Tinsley looked down at the contents of her clutch, reaching for her phone. Perhaps their salvation wouldn't have to rely on her SOHO HOUSE card, maybe she could call in a favor from someone who wouldn't ask too many questions as to why Holden and she were locked away in a bathroom together. "How's it looking over there?" She asked Holden, as she scrolled down her contacts.

Likewise, Holden knew he only had a finite amount of time before his father started to look for him so they had to get moving. As much as he lived for the chaos he also liked for things to go to his plan and he wasn't ready for this thing to be done with Tinsley– partly because he was enjoying himself, partly because he was still trying to figure out how to avoid having Stef rock his jaw clean off the second he found out. "Left it in my other black pants," he drawled, taking the card and barely glancing at it. His idea of a good time was loitering outside a 7-11 in the middle of the night with a slushie and a brain freeze, her exclusive club held no weight in his universe. "I can feel something..." he glanced back over his shoulder at her, eyebrow arching when he saw her with her phone in hand. "I'd love to know who you have in there that you think could keep a secret. Must be hard for you, not being able to brag about getting off for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day."

"I thought the new hair might make you more approachable but apparently you're still being side eyed." Bryson smirked, holding out a beer for Holden as he took a long drink from his own. "You think it's still a social status thing or just a jabit at this point?" @h-deaton

"What, you start fucking a former child star and suddenly you're keeping track of social points? I had so much more hope for you," Holden mirrored Bryson's smirk as he took the beer. "I'm leaning towards habit. I haven't done anything to be judged for in a long time... that anyone knows about, anyway."

If look could kill, Holden would have surely been six feet under at that moment. "Oh, why didn't I think of that?" Tinsley asked him, the sarcasm just oozing off of the statement as she turned back towards the door handle and did as he'd suggested just to get the same result as before. She'd continued messing with the handle, until she felt his presence behind her. And damn it if didn't make her heart start to race to have him so close. "I promise you, this surely wouldn't have been my first pick." She playfully rolled her eyes, leaning back into him with a devious smirk on her features. But when even he couldn't get the door open, Tinsley forced herself out of the fog of lust that overtook her when he was in his presence. No, they needed to get out of this room. "Okay, you raise a valid point but what are we suppose to do now? Just sit here?' She asked him, as she turned in his arms so they could find themselves face to face.

For all his intent to be a thorn in Tinsley's side, and to also sate whatever ungodly desire he held for her, Holden didn't like the idea of being trapped against his will. Suddenly the bathroom had become that much smaller, a prison instead of a hideaway. The problem was that he was supposed to be the one who got her into trouble not out of it, the opposite of a knight in shining armour. All things considered if she'd been with Stefan he probably could have shouldered the door open with brute force. Holden, however, did not have muscle mass on his side so he had to get creative. "I mean, I'm sure we could keep ourselves occupied," he hooked a finger under her chin and eyed her in a way that couldn't be described as anything less than hungrily. "But also I'd really like to get the fuck out of here so... Purse? I don't have my wallet. Might as well see if the card trick works."

"It's locked," Tinsley jiggled on the door handle, looking back at the other occupant of the bathroom in that moment. Her... well, she'd called him her guilty pleasure at the moment. That being Holden Deaton. She didn't know what it was about him or whatever this was between them but she just couldn't resist it. So they'd found themselves doing as they'd often did now a days. Sneaking off to indulge in this thing. Often their hook ups occurred in coat checks, behind pillars in rarely ventured hallways, the greenhouse at the Chadwell estate and today, a random bathroom. One with a faulty handle. "can you like... push it open?" ( @h-deaton )

"Try turning the handle," Holden drawled sarcastically, more focused on zipping his pants up. It was hard to tell if their now regular meetings were thawing their opinions of each other but it wasn't like he ever hung around long enough to find out. They fulfilled something for each other that was to remain unspoken, none of it was about feelings. When he realised Tinsley wasn't joking, that the door was indeed stuck, he sighed and pressed himself into her back. "Of all the places for you to want to trap me you couldn't pick somewhere more convenient?" he breathed against her ear just to be annoying, then reached around her to test the door himself. Nothing happened, of course, which was rather bothersome. "You really want me to start beating against the door like a caveman? Never know who might be on the other side."

More than just not questioning it, Holden appreciated all her strangeness, and met her with quirks of his own. The upside to a party of this scale was you could disappear in it, even as the host, and despite the crowd it felt like it just the two of them. "Sorry to disappoint. They just fucked like everyone else." October hardly blinked as he poked her with a dagger off the wall, which was to say, yes, her armor was functional. Smirking, she grabbed the hilt, just below his hand, and pushed the end towards his chest. "Yes. I like your sweater." She dropped her hand, leaving him with the dagger. "Have you seen the backyard? My parents tried to get us pets for a bit, now we have a row of little tombstones."

"And here I was ready to accept you as a deity," he said, almost disinterested as he watched the knife hit her chain mail and stop. Not that he wanted it to fail but it certainly would have been a story to tell. "Thanks," he let her push the dagger back at him, ignoring the little voice in his head that made him wonder how it would feel... "it's just a sweater but someone asked if I was Sid from Toy Story so I said yeah. My suit of armour was at the drycleaner." Costumes weren't his thing, blending in so no one would notice him lurking around was, so of course he was wearing black on black. "Please, anything to get away from the theatre kids who make Rocky Horror their entire personality one month of the year. And when you say tried to get you pets... you're not a cat person? Would have picked you as one."

Tinsley found herself at that night's function as the eldest sister of the Chadwell trio. The twins had wanted to attend the Addams function and who was she to say no them? Both Adeline and Keaton were more than allowed to have their unaltered fun so once they disappeared into the masses, Tinsley found herself at the edge of the dance floor. Whilst she thrived during the days of monarchies in the social scene, it appeared that no longer appeared to be the standard. She spotted young queen bees entertaining point dexters and vice versa. As she stared out onto the dance floor, the beats of Tomcraft's Loneliness blaring through the speakers— an all too familiar voice spoke into her ear. The sound of his voice only bringing a smile to her lips. "Is that so?" Tinsley replied, knowing very well it was Holden behind her. She pushed back against him, biting down on her lower lip as his fingers ran against the skin of her thighs. "I'm Madison Montgomery. American Horror Story, I'm shocked you didn't already know that." She let Holden know as she turned to come face to face with him.

He wished he could say he didn't know what she was talking about, but he'd watched the show with Violet once upon a time so yeah, he'd had his suspicions. "Mm, you remain predictable," he said. The events of the last time they'd met didn't change the status of their rivalry so he had no intention of sugar coating his words. Besides, if she was looking for safe and nice she'd have been standing there in Stefan's arms, not his. "It's cute, isn't it? All these people with their masks on and they're still too scared to step out of line." He had his hands set on her hips, holding her close while his eyes held hers with unmistakeable greed. He didn't have anything to lose, not in the way Tinsley did, so he wasn't concerned with how well they were concealed on the edge of the shadows. "Maybe they still need your guidance after all."

She glared up at Holden, though not with any kind of threatening aura or even annoyance- that was how she looked at most people. Not that he was most people. As strange as their relationship could be he had to be her closest friend. "I'd be offended if you didn't." Whether he'd been to her family's home before she didn't actually remember or maybe it'd just been in quick instances, never much farther than the foyer. "Care for the tour?," she asked, brow raising with only the slightest tinge of sarcasm in her tone.

October was odd, even more so than he was because technically speaking he was straight up unhinged, but that was what he liked so much about her. Nothing about her was a plea for adoration from the masses or for anyone's approval, though he had a feeling such an impressive party might have landed her more social points than she cared for. "Mm, I'd love to see the altar where your parents summoned you," he smirked back at her, perusing a shelf of torturous knickknacks. "I like your costume. Is it functional?" Without pause he plucked a lovely little dagger off the wall and stuck her with it.