𝕛𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖

A laugh nearly escaped Ishani at his sock comeback—she'd walked right into that one. She'd been ready to shut down Isaac's ego trip, but instead found herself kind of impressed by his self-awareness. The Jin-Ho thing struck a nerve she hadn't expected. "Those socks better be spectacular to earn that extra two percent," she said, surprised to find herself actually enjoying their back-and-forth. His words about his stage name revealed something deeper that she recognized from her own life. "Jin-Ho suits you better than DJ Superstar anyway, less cheese, more substance." She'd been there—trying to figure out which label fit best. Thankfully, she figured it out quickly. "Although I have to say, the novelty socks are definitely working in your favor." She'd been wrong about him, and for once, she didn't mind admitting it to herself.

“I mean—given that I can happily afford your drinks, it’s not such a perk you know? I’d rather have the full red carpet treatment,” he told her with a nod as she continued with her words, “but no parade…that might be pushing it a bit too much,” he told her with a chuckle before he told her how much he admired the idea of a full poker setup. That was definitely only something true avid lovers of the game would do. But then yes—of course he had to mention that he’d managed to beat her that one time. It was a moment of true pride for him after all. “Nah—it doesn’t define your track record, but it definitely improves mine.”

She nearly rolled her eyes into another dimension. He really was going to milk this wasn't he? The way he kept pushing her buttons about it almost made her respect his dedication to the bit. Almost. "Fine, you win. Next time I'll have someone announce your arrival with trumpets," she quipped, finding herself smiling despite herself. His pride over that single poker win still bruised her eg —just a tiny bit. Not that she'd ever admit it. "You know what? Next game, I'm going to wipe that smirk right off your face. And trust me, your track record won't mean much when I'm done." 

Something wasn't right. She got the message—Camila didn't want her involved in whatever mess this was. But that's not how their friendship worked. They'd always been there for each other through every disaster and triumph. "Fine, if you can't get into it, I won't push. But you know I'm here if you need me to bury a body or whatever, right?" The words came out less funny than she'd intended. Marriage was huge, and this situation had red flags all over it. But if her friend needed time to sort through this chaos, she'd back off. For now. "Maybe the helpful Ava will grow on you. I am happy for you. Always. Just promise me you'll be careful with your hear. And if things get messy, call me before you do anything else crazy."

It was nice to connect with someone that Samira hadn’t known much about while growing up but the way she and Ishani had connected and just…clicked in this way made the transition easy from partners to cousins easier. “Oh thank god—whatever would I do without you?” Samira asked with a teasing smile knowing that nothing of the sort would luckily be happening. As they spoke about the surprise party Ishani had to deal with, Samira found herself chuckling before shaking her head. She would have thrown a fit especially at the thought of having to clean it all up but it was good that they did it for her and she didn’t have to lift a finger. “Emotional damage,” she tsked before giving her cousin a look. “How ever will you recover from all that? There must be some way.” She grinned at her cousin before nodding at her words, “she’s determined to make it at some point—I’m thinking of bringing her by before you open so that she can see it and then I can take her home,” she murmured before nodding at the other’s words. “Sounds good to me. Dinners are a go—and that slander…I’m going to ignore you now. Thanks very much.”

She couldn't stop the laugh bubbling up at the thought of shielding Samira from dance music zealots. Ishani was sure her cousin could handle any situation, but still, the thought was comical. "I'll recover with time and therapy. Maybe some retail therapy too." Who knew discovering they shared DNA would make their conversations flow like this? She couldn't believe how quickly they'd gone from polite acquaintances to finishing each other's sentences, as if they’d known each other all their lives. Other than Donnie and her mom, she didn’t have the same type of connection with anyone. She loved how protective the other was towards her daughter—wanting to introduce Maya to new spaces without overwhelming her. It made her want to have children of her own one day. "That's actually smart, bringing her before opening. No customers, no chaos, just your cool cousin's empty club," she said, letting pride seep into her voice. The whole 'ignoring EDM slander' thing deserved an eye roll, but she'd let it slide. For now. "Fine, ignore me. But don't come crying when you find yourself secretly bobbing along to house music." A smile spread across her face as she added, "And those dinners better include that biryani you've been bragging about. I have standards, you know."

"God, the cutesy nicknames are the worst. I'd rather listen to nails on a chalkboard." The idea of couples using saccharine pet names made her want to gag—especially since her own dating history consisted mainly of people who couldn't even remember her actual name correctly. At least nails on a chalkboard were honest about their awfulness, unlike those couples who thought "schnookums" and "honey bear" were acceptable terms of endearment. Thankfully, she was single. But Feyza’s question made her squirm inside, not because there wasn't anything to tell, but because there was maybe too much she wasn't ready to share. "Nothing much. I'm hanging out with Atlas and Saint, but one is for poker, the other…" she paused to word her thoughts properly, "…he has something of mine."

"Oh you think I know how to do all this because I am a nerd?" Donovan chuckled, shaking his head at her. "I love to read. Math? Not much of a thing for me but I can try to figure it out." Donnie loved spending time with his loved ones, he also loved helping others, so this worked perfectly for him. Grinning at his sister's words, he nodded. "You like free labor? Spoken like a true business woman." He joked lightly, sending her a mischievous grin. "I've missed you too though. I really have."

Ishani shook her head at her brother's modesty. "Please, you're smart and you know it. Stop acting like you're dumb as a doorknob," she said, thinking how lucky she was to have him around. His teasing about free labor brought out her sass. "You’re getting payment. I’m just paying you with pizza. What’s better than that? That's premium currency right there." Something about their easy conversation made her realize how much she'd needed this—just hanging with her favorite person. "And for the record, I'd still want you here even if you were terrible at math. You make everything better, even boring paperwork.—Now tell me about what’s going on while I was away…”

It made her brain go into overdrive seeing Atlas get excited about her spreadsheets—she'd spent so many nights organizing data just to quiet her racing thoughts. The quinoa thing had started as a joke, but now she had statistical proof. "You laugh, but I've got a 85% accuracy rate on predicting eliminations based on grain choices alone." She'd created these charts during those sleepless nights when her mind wouldn't shut up, and now here was someone actually getting why it mattered. His alien theory about Gordon Ramsay sent her into a fit of laughter—she'd finally met someone who understood her specific brand of weird. "Jazz's upside down sleeping position is clearly a sign he's communicating with the mothership. Don't get me started on the dessert challenges, they're obviously testing human sugar tolerance levels for future experiments." For once, she didn't need to filter the random stuff that popped into her head. This was the kind of conversation she'd been missing—where she could share her charts and graphs without getting weird looks. "Trust me, I've got a whole PowerPoint connecting every contestant elimination to mysterious crop circle appearances. And let's be real, what kind of human voluntarily eats molecular gastronomy? I've cross-referenced every foam-based dish with reported UFO sightings, and the data doesn't lie."

His brow cocked upwards at the confidence--though he'd truly only be lying if he said he weren't amused and greatly entertained. "I don't believe Leonardo DiCaprio has even said the words 'I'm way better looking than Brad Pitt', but I must admit, the confidence is very pleasing." There's a chortle noise in his chest that's akin to something of a chuckle as he positioned the punching bag once again to throw practice jabs. "Well, you always make me look bad considering you're much better looking than any Hollywood actors. And formula 1 drivers." He flashed her a mischievous smirk with the innocent comment before he turned his attention to the bag before him. Three hooks thrown before he stepped back for a moment. "Have I made it to Tyson mode yet?"

The way Miles dropped that DiCaprio reference made her shake her head and laugh at the same time. "Listen, if we're comparing looks to Formula 1 drivers, I'd say I'm more on Lewis Hamilton's level." The compliment caught her off guard though. Better looking than Hollywood actors? That was… actually really sweet. But she wasn't about to let him see that she was flattered. She assessed his form—promising but needed work. "Tyson mode? Please. You're barely at kindergarten level," she teased, keeping the mood upbeat. "Here's a tip—you're telegraphing your moves. Try keeping your shoulders more relaxed between hits. Want to know the real secret to a good hook? It's all in the hip rotation. But I'm warning you now—once I teach you this, there's no going back to amateur hour." She was in her element now. "Come on, let me show you how it's done properly."

“Only because I feel comfortable around you and I like your style. Laughter makes places feel warmer.” She smirked at her. Reyna wasn’t shy about complimenting those who she felt deserved the praise. Oftentimes, someone’s goodness was told through eulogies, but to her, eulogies were pointless if the person couldn’t hear them. Where was the honour in silent admiration?  “Good,” She leaned in to listen to her better, “means that I haven’t scared you off yet.”  Her hand left the shelf as she decided not to buy another self-help book. “Honestly, as a collector, I couldn't tell you. I've got to admit that I sort of just open these books to a random page and hope that whatever my eyes land on is a golden nugget of wisdom.” She shrugged and then nodded. “Yes. Wild that I haven’t grabbed my morning coffee yet. Where has my mind been?” 

Ishani had to admit, Reyna’s confidence in throwing out compliments always amused her. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to praise—it just felt different coming from someone like the other, someone who didn’t sugarcoat things. “I’m glad you’re comfortable around me, at least.” That part stuck with her more than she wanted to admit. She liked the idea that someone felt at ease in her presence. It was rare, and she didn’t take it lightly. The bit about laughter making places warmer? Yeah, that resonated with her. Humor had been her armor for so long that hearing someone value it felt... validating. She smirked at her friend’s self-help confession. “Random page wisdom? That’s bold. I’d probably end up landing on something like breathe deeply and feel cheated.” Ishani chuckled, shaking her head at the thought. “Alright, let’s fix your coffee situation before you start quoting these books at me.”

Mouth gaped open, Gwendolyn was trying to come up with a quick comeback, but instead she was met with her own speechlessness as she sat there slightly stunned by how accurate her friend’s response was. “Okay…So maybe we are spending a lot of time with each other…” Her voice trailed off as clearly other things had happened between her and Noah, but she braced herself if Ishani had found anything else out. Instead, she was met with curiosity and at this point, she couldn’t blame her friend for wanting to know what was going on. “...We’re dating.” she mumbled under her breath before taking a sip of her strawberry milkshake. “...We’re just old friends who reconnected after a period of time and took interest in each other. I’ve decided to take a chance on him, but I’ll be honest this is probably scarier than a mission or a case.” 

She smiled from ear to ear as Gwen finally caved, admitting to spending a lot of time with Noah. It was like watching a slow-motion train of awkwardness, and honestly, she was living for it. When her friend mumbled the words we're dating into her milkshake like it was some kind of state secret, she nearly lost it. Dating? That explained so much. She couldn't help but find the whole thing ridiculously endearing—her friend, who could probably dismantle a crisis with her bare hands, acting like this was the scariest thing she'd ever done. "Well, it's about time," she said, dragging out the words like they were some juicy piece of gossip she'd just uncovered. "I was starting to think you two were just going to keep circling each other forever. You know, for someone who can handle high-stakes missions without breaking a sweat, you're being adorably nervous about this. Just don't overthink it—you've already done the hard part by admitting it to yourself. And from what I've seen, Noah looks at you like you hung the moon and stars."

“Luckily you’re stuck with me now so you better be protecting me,” she grinned at the other with a teasing glint in her eyes. She may be older than Ishani but being around the other almost reminded her of being with Diana and she appreciated that feeling more than she could express. Being without her younger sister for all these years created a true void in Samira’s heart but now…with Ishani, it was as if that void wasn’t seeming quite as large as it did otherwise. “Oh god yeah I would not be happy with that. I hope you made them clean it up because that isn’t cool on you at all,” she chuckled before smiling at her friend and shaking her head. “Nuh uh—I’ll work on the EDM slander but you better know that I’m adding on some random dinners here and there…Maya loves hanging out with you and has actually been begging to come around Soundwave and I’m just iffy on it still.”

She had to admit, Samira’s teasing about being stuck with her had a certain charm—like a playful nudge that reminded her how much she valued having someone who could joke around without taking things too seriously. If anyone would be sticking around, it would be her cousin. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got your back. Angry ravers won’t know what hit them.” The thought of actually stepping in to shield the other from EDM purists made her laugh internally—what a ridiculous visual. When she brought up the frat-house disaster, Ishani winced slightly at the memory. “They do clean it up. I made sure of that. But the emotional damage? Irreparable,” she joked, though the frustration of that night still lingered faintly in the back of her mind. “Maya’s always welcome, you know that. But Soundwave? Might be a little much for her. Let’s ease her in with those random dinners you’re planning to spring on me,” she added with a cheeky grin. “And I’ll hold you to working on that EDM slander.”

“I mean please—your company is great Ishani, don’t get me wrong but I think as someone who you proposed to use a celebrity to bring in the crowd on opening day—I deserve better than just free drinks,” Nik pointed out since Ishani had mentioned the same back when she’d told him about opening Soundwave. He did love the idea of her having a proper poker set up though, because so far in his place—he’d gotten a table but that was it—he didn’t have anything else set up to host the occasional game so maybe he’d have to get some pointers from her and her setup. “You’ve lost once,” he pointed out with a smirk before giving her a chuckle and nodded at her consolation prize for him if he by chance won—which wasn’t likely unless she was off her game and Nik would definitely attempt to make that a reality. “I like bragging rights—it’s what my career depends on half the time.”

Ishani found herself biting back a laugh at Nik’s response—of course, he’d bring up the celebrity thing again. He really had a knack for holding onto the most random details. She couldn’t even be mad about it, it was too on-brand for him. “Better than free drinks?” she echoed, sounding mock offended. “What, you want me to roll out a red carpet too? Maybe throw in a parade while I’m at it?” She shook her head internally, amused by how easily he managed to twist her words into something absurd. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride at the idea of him actually liking her poker setup. It wasn’t just for show—it was legit, and she knew it. But then he had to bring up her losing once. Once. She rolled her eyes mentally, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “Oh, right,” she shot back, her voice light but sharp enough to make her point. “Because one fluke defines my track record. Obviously… I’m not surprised at all.”

Nicole could have nearly choked on the champagne she was sipping at Ishani's reaction. Everything had instantly become funnier, sillier, stupider, and elicited laughter from the brunette without her realizing. "You've got to be kidding me. You haven't seen it?? Wait, wait wait-" her free hand reached to the Chanel bag hooked on her arm to pull out her iPhone. And with a google search that was more than half misspelled--a scaled to size representation of the Mona Lisa popped out. Only resulting in increased laughter from Nicole. "See.. she's so little! You do know what they say though with diamonds--it's the quality not the size. And those lab grown ones are getting far too realistic." There was a raise of her brow at the idea Ishani suggested, feigning contemplation as if she would do anything other than agree. "I believe it totally does represent the futility of modern capitalism...Don't you see it?"

Ishani couldn't stop laughing at Nicole's reaction—it was infectious, like the champagne had amplified their ridiculousness. It felt crazy that the Mona Lisa was so little, like all this time, she’d been pranked. When her friend pulled up the image on her phone, she leaned in, squinting at the screen like it might reveal some hidden logic. "Okay, that's just... embarrassing. All that drama for something that could fit in my glove compartment? I mean, sure, quality over size, but come on. It's like guarding a single Tic Tac with a vault." She shook her head, still grinning, and let the other’s diamond comment simmer in her mind. Lab-grown diamonds—of course, even rocks were getting upgrades these days. Her gaze drifted back to the orange blob in the corner, and she smirked. "I definitely see it. The blob screams, You're broke, but here’s a $12 latte. Should we start pitching this to people or just keep drinking?"

pearce felt bad for irza but at the same time, his friend knew what he was doing and he obviously had been enjoying himself. "well, why don't i text him and let him know what i heard? then both of us will know what he thinks about this whole this?" he wondered if he'd care at all or if he'd tell ember. the two definitely had eyes on them, that's for sure. "i don't know. hopefully it's just town gossip and doesn't hit the news but there's no telling what the news channels around here will report since there aren't any new leads with anything else."

Ishani found herself biting back another laugh as Pearce mentioned texting Irza. The idea alone was chaotic enough to make her grin. She wondered if Irza would even care—he always seemed like the type to shrug off drama, but who knew? “You’re really going to text him? Bold move,” she said, her tone laced with amusement. She mulled over his hope that it would stay small-town gossip. “Yeah, but you know how it is here. If someone sneezes wrong, it’s breaking news. I’m just saying, three days tops before it’s everywhere.” She popped another fry into her mouth, smiling. “Go on, text him. Let’s see how this plays out.”

he was disappointed when it came to what happened at the last olympics but he knew that he would eventually get back on track and score the gold metal that he'd worked for. "thanks for the pep talk. i appreciate it and i'm definitely doing what i can to get back to where i was." he managed to take another sip of his drink and chuckled at her next words. "i didn't have to sign anything telling me not to talk about it, so i can tell you some behind the scenes stuff. despite the fact that it's all a competition, we actually did hang out with the other teams outside of everything. it was nice to get to know people from other countries. interesting, actually. in fact, i did make a friend from japan. we follow each other on social media and we'll talk here and there. he's a hell of a diver."

Ishani wondered what it was like for athletes at that level; if the pressure of competing against each other created tension or if they managed to set it aside when the cameras weren't rolling. The idea of Olympic rivals becoming friends made her curious about what other surprising things happened behind those polished TV broadcasts. "That's actually really cool that you all hung out together. I always wondered if there was drama between teams or if everyone got along," she said, shifting closer in her seat. "Social media really makes the world smaller, doesn't it? It's pretty awesome you've kept in touch." She lifted her glass for another drink, relaxed by the easy flow of conversation. "I hope you get to go back though. If not for the medal, then at least so you could see your friends again." The idea of him missing out on seeing his international friends again made her feel a little sad. Those connections seemed like they meant more than just the competition itself.

Ishani had to admit, Isaac’s confidence was almost endearing—almost. She listened to his response, already crafting a sarcastic retort. Sure, his music brought in crowds, but did he really think his personality had anything to do with it? She found herself smirking despite her best efforts. “Twelve percent? Wow, generous estimate,” she said, mock seriousness dripping from her voice. “Let’s not get carried away, though. I’d say it’s more like... three percent, tops. And that’s me being nice.” She leaned into the humor, knowing full well he’d take her teasing as a challenge. Still, she couldn’t deny that his sets had a way of electrifying the room. Maybe she’d let him have this tiny victory—for now. “Alright, DJ Superstar,” she added with a shrug, “just don’t let that three percent go to your head.”