it's too easy to hate you

status: open (@pantheonhqstarters) where: the streets of New York city, choose your own adventure

Sylvie had been so engrossed in her phone, it took her a moment to realize the stranger was talking to her. She was about to reply with something that would've landed anywhere between mildly sarcastic and scathing retort until she locked eyes with him, stopping her in her tracks. She was willing to forgive his need to insert his opinion where it wasn't asked for the chance to stare at him for a little while longer.

Sylvie's usage of the present tense to refer to their cousin was extremely tough, because the urge to correct her was there, but it also felt like reminding herself as well that he was no longer alive. "We haven't gone over collectibles quite yet. Furniture was something we'd talked about, but I will check on those." Gwen gave a soft smile at the story, remembering just how protective Sebastian had been. She had been on his side when he'd been upset with Sylvie, she remembered saying it wasn't respectful to take someone else's things without their permission and said so at the time. "Got it, I'll see what Auntie had planned for them." Gwen was unsure if they were worth any type of money, knowing how some collectibles depreciated in value much more often than increased in value. "Anything else you can think of?"

Sylvie smiled softly. "Thanks, Gwen. That's all I can think of right now, but if I can think of anything else, I'll let you know," she replied, grateful to know she'd at least have something to remember her late cousin by. She had no idea where she'd put them, but she'd find some place where Henri wouldn't object to it. "I don't know if I could handle going through his things... I know it's partly your job to keep track of assets and whatever, but you're a lot stronger than I am. I'd have outsourced that immediately."

The Hopes had been intertwined with the Mob for over ten years now, but during that time they'd been fortunate enough not to experience any real loss connected to that. No family members as collateral damage -- something Wes was now realizing he'd sorely taken for granted. It was if the reality of their situation was just now sinking in, shedding new light on who the Hopes had truly begun.

Sylvie settled on the stool, propping her elbows up onto the countertop and running her fingers through her mussed-up curls, head resting in her hands. She listened as best she could between the tears and sniffling. She had never fully come to terms with this life -- not in the way the others had. She was never involved in it, only knowing the little bits she did because she could guilt almost any information out of her siblings with one of multiple tricks she'd curated over the years. If nothing else, this was a wake-up call to prevent her from getting too comfortable with the family's affiliations.

The masquerade ended, but the stress stemming from that evening only continued to increase with each passing day. The fallout from the secret the Pantheon threatened to out would continue to have shockwaves for quite a while if her thinking was correct, and that amount of stress caused her to draw inwards. Christos was usually the only one to get a regular sign of life out of her, otherwise she spent a lot of time by herself either working out or with her horses. Today, the sound of someone at the front door woke her from an unintentional nap on the couch, and after she carefully pushed Millie off her legs, she moved to the door and opened it, expression dazed.

"I did, but it's okay. I can imagine you've had a couple of pretty stressful days," she assured the woman, stepping inside behind her and toeing off her shoes before following. The two hadn't spent a whole lot of time together one on one before, so Mikayla had worried her presence wouldn't be welcome without Christos accompanying her, but she kept that concern buried as she set the dish down onto the stove, turning the oven on to get it reheated.

"He doesn't seem like he's dangerous," Christos repeated her words with a quick roll of his eyes, though it wasn't meant to be directed at her -- simply at the situation, and considering the fact that he'd run in with the man multiple times now and hadn't been discerning enough in those moments to get a real read on him. "Considering his attendance at the casino, and then the Cavalry-sponsored car show, I'm wager to say he's connected at the very least." Though -- there was also the slim chance that he wasn't, considering the crowd at both of those events wasn't made up entirely of criminals. But Christos wasn't a firm believer in coincidences. "And your mom has no idea why he's decided to contact you now? She hasn't kept in touch with him?" Brows narrowed, gaze softening to something closer to concern. "I'll look into it," he decided, "so you and I can both know for sure."

Christos was right; what were the odds her father was in attendance at two gang-sponsored events without being somehow wrapped up within the criminal underbelly? She couldn't jump to conclusions, though, considering she considered herself to be at least tangentially involved herself.

Location: Ralph's Coffee Starter for @hardtolcve

Whether this was a good idea or not, Mikayla hadn't quite decided. Even as the bell above the door chimed to announce her arrival, the apprehension only continued to build. This man, the one who had somehow managed to find her in the most unexpected manner possible, was the father she had only ever dreamed of meeting, and yet now that she had arrived in this moment, everything in her screamed to turn and run. Once she sat at the table and asked all of her questions, there was no going back to the way her life was before.

His own father was so far from paternal that he'd always struggled with the concept of what a relationship between parent and child should look like. In theory he did, of course -- even being around Mikki, seeing how she interacted with her own mother, the strong bond and the love they shared incredibly evident. Regardless, it was hard for him to relate to that longing she felt, knowing that he'd probably be better off if his own father had stayed far, far away, but he understood it was much different for her and wanted to be supportive in any way he could. "Wait -- who?" The name sounded familiar, brows pulled together as he racked his brain for where he'd heard it before -- but once she mentioned the casino, it all fell into place. He'd even had a conversation with him at the car show, had shaken his hand and thanked him for helping her when everything went down. "And you haven't talked to him since then? Have you talked to your mom?" Brows narrowed, paranoia settling in. "Do you know if he's even telling the truth?"

"I haven't talked to him yet. He gave me his contact information and address to reach out whenever I was ready, but..." She frowned. "I went to talk to Mami right away. The moment I mentioned his name, she confirmed it. She was only 16 when she had me, so I imagine the list of candidates is slim." She took a slow sip of her wine. She could see the gears turning in his head, the suspicion in his eyes. "Part of me is worried he's been following me for a long time, but he doesn't seem like he's dangerous. I have so many questions that only he can answer, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to talk to him yet before I know more about him."

Lorelai gave a smooth shrug at Mikayla's point. Of course she could have, but also why would she have approached her there? "I was a bit preoccupied that night." She offered as her reason, considering there was plenty going on and it wasn't as if the other woman was at the center of the attention in that moment. There were plenty of other things going on and one included a murder. The theory made her laugh. "I am not really deeply involved in your boyfriend's feelings. I don't care if he was upset or not. In fact, I enjoy upsetting men quite a lot. I would call that all in a day's work."

Mikayla furrowed her brow, feeling her frustration growing. It wasn't only that she had yet to really get a clear answer out of the woman up to this point, but that she insisted on being here at all. She didn't care about Niko's feelings, and it's not like a man you had to practically torture any sort of information out of would tell her in depth about his work. There was no universe where she could be considered a threat, and yet. "So, you're here to waste both of our time, then." She shook her head, looking back down at her order pad. "Would you like to order anything else?"

Hearing her name come from Sylvie made her pause and look over her way, seeing just how tired and haggard she looked. She knew that the question was a rhetorical one. Gwen felt as though they all were going through it, and in her mind it was certainly not a competition for who was grieving the most. She knew all her family had different ways of coping, but also she did not want to allow Sylvie be unhealthy in how she coped. Gwen felt a large responsibility and took the weight of this on her shoulder as well as other things. "Well, I don't cook much either. Well, my space isn't large enough for everyone, but perhaps Wes would be asked. I wanted to check on you, see if there was something I could do. I've been going through Sebastian's estate with Auntie. There might be some things you might be interested in."

The mention of Sebastian's estate was a fresh reminder of the fact that he was no longer on this side of eternity. She closed her eyes, hoping to hold back the prickling of tears she could feel coming on. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to do what Gwen was doing now, going through the remnants of the life he'd lived, the material things that amounted to his legacy. "Does he still have those dumb figurines he used to collect when we were kids?" she asked with a soft laugh. "The ones he never took out of the boxes. Said they were more valuable if they'd never been opened. I always thought it was stupid to have a toy you couldn't play with. He was so mad when I opened one of them, I thought his head would explode." She swallowed around the lump in her throat, turning to look at Gwen with a sad smile. "I'll take those if no one else claimed them."

There was an immense amount of guilt that he felt over not being able to tell Sylvie about the fate of their cousin himself, having only been able to reach her after the news had already broke. Though they were all adults now, Wesley still felt a sense of responsibility when it came to his younger siblings, wanting to shoulder their burdens and the shield them from pain, suffering, whenever he could. So when he opened the door late at night to a tear-stricken Sylvie, it didn't feel like an imposition; if anything, he as relieved she was there.

The affirmation tore her heart all over again, that inkling of hope that it had simply been the usual rumor mill surrounding the family dashed. She covered her mouth with one hand as a sobbed ripped from her, not wanting to wake her niece and nephew who were likely asleep inside, and wrapped her other arm around him to hold him close. She knew as the family got more involved with their seedier business partners that things like this were always a possibility, but she'd never imagined losing anyone in such a violent way.

It's a twin thing, Maddox thinks. Since their infant years, Maddox always understood how Syl felt before she did. Just as she always understood him. Enough to know that there's no hiding from the grief of their cousin's death around her. Sighing, he reaches for a pair of sweatpants and his shirt, slipping them on before following out to the kitchen. A warm hand on Syl's back, wordless in the way he catches her bloodshot eyes and the lump on her throat.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Fashion Week brings out all the eye candy, so I may have helped myself to the jar. Lots of drinks and fun to be had in London." She tried to say it with her usual flirtatious air, but the mirth was lacking. As much as Sylvie tried to cover them up, she wore her emotions on her sleeve and she felt things deeply. Anybody who knew her -- really knew her -- would be able to tell when her heart wasn't in it. "Not yet. I went to see Wes when I landed, then came here." She hesitated. "I'm kind of scared to, especially with being late getting here. What she'll have to say about it."

"Yeah but if you get so fucked up I have to hold your hair back, it's going to be a real boner killer, my dear wife," he told her, not breaking eye contact or leaning away from her touch. It felt silly to feel embarrassed that he was so attracted to his wife but it made him feel foolish. Like he was losing his grip on the reality of what their arrangement was. "Just drink some water, Sylvie. Get some air with me. We can look cute walking by the water and trying to guess how much these fucking boats cost." He slid one hand down her side until it ghosted over her ass slightly. "Indulge me. It's my only ask tonight."

A snort of laughter left her at his words, the alcohol doing its part to make the phrase 'boner killer' funnier than a grown woman should find it. She didn't immediately respond, allowing herself to drink in the intensity behind those warm brown eyes of his. They had always been one of her favorite features of his -- though she'd be loath to admit the effect they had on her -- so she reveled in the prolonged eye contact before letting out a melodramatic sigh. "Fine, but I spent too much on this dress to get it muddy and those clouds off in the distance did not look friendly. If it starts raining, you're paying for dry cleaning."

"Do you have to be so dramatic? You're basically already drunk. I'm trying to save you from busting your ass." Henri's tone wasn't mean, more matter-of-fact as he looked at her. He had barely had anything to drink, so he was on the opposite spectrum from her right now. He gave a stern look to the bartender and moved to stand between her and the bar. "Let's not start the night this way, please," he pleaded, his expression softening as he met her eyes. "I wore my most expensive underwear and you won't get to see it if you keep getting shit faced."

"You underestimate how much practice I have walking in these heels while wasted." She pouted at him, but noticing the shift in his demeanor gave her pause. Was that actual concern she saw on his face? No, it couldn't be. "And why not?" With her free hand, she trailed her finger along his chest up to the bit of skin shining through at the collar. "We both look too good tonight for us to not do something about it."

He believed her when she said it wasn't about him -- mostly because, really, Mikki had never made it a secret when she had a bone to pick with him. It was something he appreciated about her, about their relationship, even if could be too stubborn to understand at times. The mention of her father, however, caused a notable shift in his expression, not sure what he was expecting -- but it definitely wasn't that. "What do you mean 'your father'?" Christos asked, moving to sit beside her on the couch. The topic of Mikki's parentage hadn't been something particularly dwelled on, but they'd had enough conversations surrounding it for her words to be notable. "When did this happen?"

"What it sounds like," she replied with a light laugh, wrapping her hands around the glass as though it were one of her tea mugs. The move brought her some comfort. "It's just been me and Mami my whole life. I never knew who he was, and she rarely talked about him. I guessed it was hard for her, so I stopped asking once I got past a certain age." She paused to take a sip, thinking back to the first event she'd attended with Christos. "Technically I met him at the casino opening, but I didn't know who he was then. It wasn't until the other week when I ran into him at the library that he told me to ask Mami about him. He clearly knew who I was, but how long he's known or if he's been following me for a while..." she trailed, the thought having plagued her for days now. Had Cesar known to find her at the casino? Had he known where she was even before then and engineered a meeting? "His name is Cesar Flores. He was the man who helped me get out when things went sideways."

Lorelai gave a small shrug of nonchalance as she tried to allow Mikayla to fill in the puzzle pieces only so she could see how she decided to answer. Was that genuine perplexity on the younger woman's face or was it a facade? She was trained to question everything and everyone. "I didn't say you did anything else and I never said it was suspect to be with him. I just was asking what your motive was, so if that is Christos then that's all I'm asking." She was still unsure just how much she might know about the situation, but the way she'd called out that she ran with a circle; could she just mean the upper class New York elite or there was more to the situation than met the eye? "You seem to keep thinking that you're in trouble, why is that?"

Mikayla wondered briefly if this woman realized how intimidating of an air she had about her, how her presence alone within Mikayla's world with her relation to Christos's made it all the more real that the two were merging to be one in the same. Anybody would be nervous in her place, she thought. "I just... don't know why else you'd be here. If all you wanted was to find out what my motive is, then you could have approached me at the event or when I was with him, yet you came here where I'd be alone. Like you know he'd be upset if he found out you were here interrogating me."