📣 NO TALK

The sun was shinning and it was just warm enough that despite the snow, Amber decided it was a perfect day to go for a run. Dressed just warmly enough, she took off, figuring that she’d reward herself with someone greasy for breakfast as a reward. Did that ruin her effort to run? Probably, but she didn’t really care. If a reward of food got her to exercise, who was she to question it. She hadn’t been running long when she decided to stop at the docks, pausing for a few minutes to take a sip of water and look out over the water. Hearing a voice, she turned her head just slightly. “Is 1 terrible or is 10 terrible? And I guess it depends on your feelings of legality and morality.”

“My feelings for legality is fuck it, and for morality it is also fuck it, with conditions.” Imogen replied, glancing back at the woman. “The law doesn’t scare me.” It shouldn’t, anyways. She’s been breaking it since she was a teenager, doing far worse things than stealing a rich man’s boat. “As for the scale, 10′s a totally terrible, shouldn’t do it opinion, 1′s a not terrible at all.”

“Absolutely 0 terrible, do it. I support this direct action against the bourgeois.” He laughed, tip of his shoe drawing a line along the wet ground before his gaze turned back up to her. “It’s not like they’re using it, really. Hope you know how all the uh,” He gestured vaguely in the direction of a large boat. “those, uh, ropes and strings and shit work. Looks complicated.”  

She was not expecting someone to say the word bourgeois around her, so she was already a fan of this dude. “Fuck yeah, dude. You get me.” She pointed at him, snapping her fingers together before dropping her hand again, the gesture coming out of nowhere but meaning to somehow emphasize her point. “I worked on a huge dinner cruise for a year, so you tell me.” She actually had no idea how to use those boats. All she did was waitress and fuck around with her coworkers.

Arthur looked up at his former employee, his lips twitching into a smile. It may be a new year, but it seemed that Imogen had not changed that much. At least not on the surface. “I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘terrible’,” he said. “It wouldn’t be terrible for you, since you would enjoy yourself.”

“Arthur!” Imogen enthused, grinning as she glanced over at her former boss. “Happy new year, boss man. Let’s celebrate with a joy ride together!” She teased, laughing at her own joke. “You’re right, it’s not a terrible idea at all to me. But to say, a law-abiding citizen, they might see it as a 10 on that scale, get my drift?”

During one of his many restless walks around the town, Nik found himself by the docks, overlooking the lake. He always had certain love for the water, having had spent so much of his long life travelling, and fighting on the boats. There was something so overwhelming, so amazing about being on water, exploring a place so vast, so scary, especially when nothing out there could possibly ever kill you. And while the docks were far more subdued than anything he’s seen, he still took certain pleasure when it came to exploring it. And finding an unfamiliar woman there only made it more interesting. “Depends whose thing you’re taking out for a joy ride. Some of those weirdos might just kill you for it.”

Glancing over at the man who responded to her, Imogen wasn’t surprised to see a Greyson. She figured half the shit in the dock probably belonged to a Greyson or a Blackwell. Since it was this notable Greyson, Dominik, she didn’t bother to be concerned about her comments and possible intentions. “Let them try. I’m hard to kill.” She grinned, then turned her attention back to the docks. Narrowing her eyes as she scanned the water, Imogen cocked her head to the side. “That small luxury cruiser over there with the cool ass lights is really tempting, but I think bright red jet ski really screams joy ride.”

Ever since the two of them had agreed on renewing their vows, Margaret wanted to be sure she got a head start on planning. Though nothing had been decided yet, there were still a few things here or there she could start on. Though the blonde didn’t want to admit how excited she had been since he had proposed the idea. 

“What type of flowers do you think would look best?” Margaret asked the person who sat beside her, looking up at them and showing them the pictures in the wedding magazine she held. “Honestly, there are just so many different types I would never be able to choose.” 

“Sunflowers.” Imogen responded automatically. She had no idea what Margaret was talking in reference to, but she offered up the suggestion anyways. Did it have anything to do with the recent Spiderman single they’d been playing a lot on the show? Yeah, okay, it did. She wasn’t a flower person and she liked that song, so the flower came to mind. But, maybe it was still a good suggestion. “Disclaimer though, I’m not 100% sure on what the flowers are for, Mrs. Grey.” She decided to admit to her former boss’ wife.

“Um.” Callie started off as her face turned bright red. “Well.. This one is occupied.” She said sheepishly, as she quickly covered her exposed torso with a shirt she was just about to try on. “Do you need to use it? I’m almost done.” The young Hastings asked as she looked at the person who had just barged into her dressing room while she was half naked. 

Another person might be quick to cover their eyes, maybe turn away in the mutual embarrassment of the situation. Imogen, though, let the initial surprise come and go for a moment before regaining her composure. “My fault, babe.” She apologized. “Or, well, not totally. You should look into locking the door next time.” She suggested with laughter in her tone, backing out. As she did, she let her eyes sweep over Callie, her hand coming up to point at the shirt. “Also, I don’t think that’s your color.”

“So there I was, bruising my knees underneath the catering table,” Morgan paused, all for dramatic effect of course and pursed her lips, stained red from the too sweet drink she’d conned some poor sap into buying her before sending him away with a wave of her hand. There was a black card in her purse but rare was the time she intended on using it. She’d always been a firm believer in never paying for her own alcohol. “When I realized I wasn’t blowing Humphrey Bogart at all. It was like– a camera man or something.” She shrugged, unfazed by the surprise element in her story. “He wasn’t ugly.”

Imogen couldn’t help the way her nose scrunched up at the revelation. She was no stranger to the blowjob, but while she has enjoyed giving them in the past, the thought of accidentally giving one to the wrong guy was nowhere near appealing. She blamed it on anatomy over the act itself - the penis was nothing to fawn over. “Ever get the chance to blow the actual Humphrey Bogart?”

“I made cookies. A lot of them.” Hugo grinned as he stopped in front of the other and held out a huge box. “Want one? I mean, Christmas is all about sharing!” 

“I thought Christmas was all about receiving.” Imogen commented, partly just to be contradictory as she took a closer look to inspect the cookies inside. “What kind of cookies do you have?”

“I’m thinking of doing the Sexy Santa contest this year…but a new theme. My own theme.” he gestured to the black and yellow tie and hat he’d donned. “I mean, who said it had to be red and green for Christmas anyway? Who made that rule?”

“Probably some old white dudes. Most likely due to the fact that Christmas has red and green thrown up all over the place. The tree, mistletoe, Santa. It’s a given.” Imogen commented before taking in the tie. “Although the color change might not be a problem to you winning as much as the fact that you look like such a dork with that tie on, Christian. And it brings to mind bees.... And Wiz Khalifa.” 

“Oh yeah cos throwing a snowball just equals successful adulthood.” she replied with a roll of her eyes as the kid ran off. She wasn’t particularly a grinch at this time of year, but she didn’t want to be soaked either, given the snow was now melting and running down her neck. “I didn’t exactly want to be soaked just yet.”

“Aw, don’t be like that. It’s the holiday season! Everyone’s supposed to be full of jolly and holly and all that shit.” Imogen wasn’t, but everyone else was supposed to be. She wasn’t used to being the most spirited person in a conversation. “Snowballs are a part of that. At least, when you’re in places where snow’s a regular occurrence this season, like here. The second the snow sticks, leaving your house becomes a risk.”

Kitty smiled at the sight of her sister, relief washing over her. She had known logically that Immy was okay, but seeing her sister with her own eyes was still comforting. And besides, she always loved to see Immy, so she would have been more than happy to have her over no matter what. “I made gingerbread,” she said, smiling brightly. “I thought we could decorate them later.” She looked up at her sister with bright-eyed interest. “I got some, but I’d love to see what you make!” she encouraged.

“Oooh, definitely.” Gingerbread anything was always her favorite holiday treats, though she did have a preference for building gingerbread houses, as her sister already knew. Decorating was fun too, though. “But yours are gonna turn out better than mine.” Facts. Plopping down onto the couch, Imogen grinned as her sister accepted her offer. While she could make things up on the spot, she found it easier to imitate items she had already seen. So, in preparation for this, she had quickly browsed through ornament gift boxes on Amazon on her way over. “Gift ornaments coming up.” Rubbing her hands together, Imogen then held them over the couch in the air for show. Humming and closing her eyes (also for show), Imogen pictured two of the boxes she had seen the walk over and conjured them, one box on top of the other. One full of classic ornaments with traditional holiday colors, the other a box of snowflake ornaments. Peeking her eyes open to see how they turned out - perfect, of course - Imogen caught sight of Toffee in the corner of her eye and decided one more box might be nice. Within a few seconds, she conjured up a smaller box, filled with small, unique dog and cat ornaments with santa hats on, something she came up with on the spot. “Bam, done. Ornaments a la Mastrano, comma Imogen. One of a kind. I think I deserve gingerbread.” 

“What the fu–” Emma grimaced as the snowball hit her face, “Hey! Learn to aim will ya?”

Imogen pegged her capability to watch a random child form, aim, and throw their snowball at Emma up close like she was up to good luck. Not hiding her laugh, Imogen held her arms out in a what-can-I-say manner. “I’d say they had perfect aim. I mean, that hit you dead on! Kid’s got an arm on them. They’re going places.”

@imogenmastrano

After what she had seen the night of the fog, Kitty was very much in need of some sister time. She was thrilled when Imogen suggested decorating the apartment – she loved Christmas, as her sister well knew, and besides, it was the perfect opportunity to make some gingerbread. Toffee was curled up on the couch, wearing her special Christmas collar (a green and red tartan with a felt Christmas bow attached) when the doorbell rang. The dog jumped off the couch, and she and Kitty hurried to open the door. “Hi!” Kitty said, beaming as she hugged her sister, a little more tightly than usual. “Come in, come in – Toffee, go sit.” Toffee had been hopping eagerly around Immy’s feet, and at Kitty’s command, the puppy sat at Immy’s feet and wagged her tail, looking up at Immy hopefully.

Right when she thought she’d made it past one Halloween scotch free, Imogen got the news that her sister hadn’t been so lucky. If possible, that news killed her more than how she felt last year when she nearly killed herself on the ferris wheel. The need to guard her sister like a hawk sprung out of her, but she managed to temper it down, settling for an afternoon of bonding (she didn’t need to reach Lily levels of overprotectiveness to check up on her). “Hey” She said, returning her hug easily. Once she pulled away, Imogen gave attention to the begging dog, ruffling Toffee’s ears momentarily before walking past and entering her apartment. “Smells homey.” Not unsurprising. She knew when she recommended the idea that Kitty would inevitably bake something for the occasion. “Need decorations? I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten anything, and I figured if you didn’t, I can always just…” She drifted off, holding out her hands suggestively. “Conjure up some ornaments or stockings or whatever we need easy.” Having matter transmutation as an inherent ability always made life a zillion times easier for her.   

Thanks lovely! You’re a doll for sending this. <3 

Dante arched an eyebrow in confusion. “It probably took, like, one million and one takes to get it to sound good,” he said before realizing that didn’t help his case at all. “But then again, she could make anything sound good.” Momentarily lost in his own mind, he stared off into space before shaking his head. “The kiss method then?” Long pause, maybe done on purpose. “Keep it stupid simple?”

“Dude.” There was pity in her voice at the drop of the word, not being able to - or rather not caring to - hold it back at the revelation that it took him a ton of tries to come up with just that. “What the hell is the kiss method? If it’s sending a kiss emoji - ehh, why not?” A kiss emoji sent her way would not do the dude any favors, but maybe this babe was into that. She apparently sounded way too hot to be using an app to find a boyfriend, so she might be on it to hook up. “It’s direct.” 

“I am that’s true, but given the newly single status I find myself in I much prefer the no commitment vibe of Tinder. Plus, it’s like a smorgasbord of hot people. Or a lobster tank. Pick a hottie, what will we have tonight ma’am, the dark haired dark eyed surfer or the tortured broody soul with the sexy tattoo.” she shrugged, “It’s also a bonus if I don’t see them again, why order the same thing twice, if you get me.”

“I got you. You’re living your best life.” Imogen laughed. It’d been a while since she’d been on Tinder, but she remembered how fun it could be. Namely, the swiping was a great way to kill time. The actually communicating afterwards could be a buzz kill. “That’s admirable. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone talk so positively about it. Especially in this town.” Her eyes widened slightly at a thought. “See anyone interesting on there lately? Goody two-shoes cops with surprisingly douchy ab pics? Upstanding citizens dtf on the low?”