c a v a l r y

I cant seem to steer away from trash boys but i guess this is just my trope

The middle child of four, the whooooole Olsen family are dirty af. Think Shades of Blue dirty cops everywhere kinda shit. His mother is a Judge and has been taking money for convictions for yeaaaaars, father is a police captain and he fell somewhere in the same stretch of life and landed himself detective twelve years ago.

Never really told a dumb lie, but I’m sure it exists somewhere between this is the worst taco I’ve ever had and I’m not in love with her.

location: navy pier

status:open to all ​​​​

date: january 22nd, 2022

“You can’t actually tell me this ‘excuse’ of a drink is the best coffee you’ve ever had? Unless of course you’ve been living under a rock your entire life — which wouldn’t be entirely unbelievable in your case.“ The detective taunted as the pair strolled down down the Navy Pier, the sun was already firmly in the sky above. “Believe me when I tell you, this has nothing on the Columbian blend I import. This tastes more like they attempted to throw coffee beans into a cup of warm milk from across the room – an actual disgrace.” Jake mused, face contorting in temporary disgust before he tossed the cup into a trash can as they passed. 

Aylin let her eyes focus on the piece of art in front of them, turning her head to look over at the male when he had spoke. “Art is supposed to make you feel things if you see the story in the picture,” she chuckled as she raised her hand up, pointing at the cloud in the sky on the painting. “The artist is telling us to always reach to the sky for your dreams,” of course, she was pulling all of this out of her ass because messing with Harley was too easy.

“If,” he stated strongly. “If you see the story in the picture...” Hues flickered between the different facets of the piece before them and it seemed no matter how he looked at it - or how many times he squinted his eyes, he couldn’t see shit. “Reach to the... What? How the fuck do you know that?” Gesturing to the piece, his hand shook in a way that only further demonstrated that he didn’t get it. That he didn’t want to get it - and that he didn’t know why he was trying in the first place. “I guess that’s uncultured swine for twenty bucks, I’ll take it. C’mon.. we gotta’ move along to the next one before someone fools themselves into thinking I’m enjoying this.”

It’d taken Harley longer than he might have hoped to wrap his head around the mess that had ensued several nights prior. Given, that he’d been removed from the privilege of being privy to the majority of the Syndicates movements since losing his place, protecting their leader when the mantle had been passed onto Dilara, it shouldn’t have bothered him so much. Except, he knew her and once the pieces all fell into place, he came to understand the part he’d played in all of it. He didn’t bother to knock at her office door, in his mind, they were still well beyond those kinds of pleasantries, and frankly, he didn’t have it in him. The few days of the new year had been quiet, he’d kept his distance but still, seeing her now caused an ache that he wished he could tear from his chest and be rid of. “We need to talk,” he leaves little room for argument and it’s very possible that he’ll feel the sting of consequence later - but right now in his mind, its just them. Dilara and Harley - not boss and employee... “Do you want to tell me what the fuck that was the other night?” 

Dilara couldn’t help but feel somewhat distracted, all too aware that as they spoke Brielle and Tommy were going about setting their long awaited plan into action. While it was a calculated risk and far from an easy decision in choosing to keep the plan under wraps from her closest circle within the Syndicate, it was necessary. And the president had accepted when stepping into her fathers shoes that sacrifices would need to be made, opportunities taken that wouldn’t necessarily appease everyone that had a seat at the table within The Syndicate. Nevertheless, the power of surprise was also on their side and would be used to their advantage. “Is that not achieving it’s purpose then? Given dizziness is but a feeling of sorts.“ The woman quipped, tone borderline teasing. “Who knew Harley Olsen was capable of feeling.”

It was but enough to draw breath through his teeth as she spoke. How he could so violently swing between feeling more at home than ever with the woman, and as if he were just as surely walking on sheets of ice, drove him mad. The tone of her voice, the smooth - silken shift of her lips into the breath of a smile as she taunted him, the fact that he knows the last time they stood so near one another would never hold as much weight as this. At first, when she’d asked him to escort her to the party, he’d almost bitten back with a mixture of venom and bitterness because somehow, he understood that it was purely strategic but still - it grated his nerves that her protection was only granted his responsibility when it suited. “If that’s what they’re aiming for, sure. Not too sure it’s the right setting for nausea though, all things considered.” As if to prove a point, he took a drink from the glass he held and turned away from the installation to the woman herself. Capable of feeling -  it felt like a cold shock to the teeth. “Nobody, apparently. C’mon, let’s show you off a little,” Better to pretend that he was onboard than linger on the tightness in his chest and the betrayal he felt as he held his arm out for her, “You’re a sight that’s wasted wandering around here.”

location - beneath one of the art installations

“I don’t get it.” How long had they been staring up at the damn thing for? Long enough to be able to see how it all seemed to fit together, the sculpture or.. diaphragm or whatever the hell it was anchored from the ceiling to hang above their heads. “Isn’t art meant to make you feel shit or something? Dizzy. I feel dizzy, looking up at this thing.”