Underestimate me

Except that it wasn’t a first and voicing as much became impossible without driving the wedge between them even further past breaking point, whatever that might have been. Sam held no intention of finding out regardless and locked her jaw to keep from speaking out of turn instead. “You want to do this now? Really?” Dredging up sins of her past and the agony caused in the blonde’s wake as if she were capable of anything else now. Much of her life had been stolen at too young an age and rather than cope, she chose to self destruct in a ripple affect that finally hit an unwitting target; Jack merely wound up as collateral damage. “If I wanted to be cold, I would’ve left the second you came over here. You said I’m good at that, remember? Walking away from people.” 

Though Jack had been correct in at least one other assertion: both women changed considerably in their time apart and if anything Sam grew worse in her compulsion for flight. After two shots at letting somebody in where both ended catastrophically, she retired any notion of exploring new relationships again. “Of course it meant shit! All of it meant something, I just…” Never knew how to be that person for her and still didn’t. “What could I have offered you, Jack?” Not enough, not when a great portion of Sam’s heart was still buried in the local cemetery and the rest sat unknowingly within the pocket of a man stewing in anger back at the reception. “It was always going to end up one of two ways: either you leaving once you figured that out or me saving us both the trouble.” Not that it was her place to cynically predict the future, but she had and the past couldn’t be unwritten. “I’m sorry for making that decision by myself and I’m sorry that it seems like I’m in Oceanside just to spite you. Coming back here was for my own reasons.”

Handing Rocco over to Elena had gone almost as smoothly as she’d predicted it to, then again - there were very few plans that Jack put in place that ever seemed to go awry. She’d earned her reputation from being near flawless in everything she did, all while keeping her face out of the memories of those that might remember her for what she was. Intricate, the web she wove and still; a knot had spun itself somewhere that she couldn’t quite place just yet. At least, not until all hell broke loose as the first gunshot pierced flesh. As if she might not have been there at all, Jack drifted with the chaotic crowd almost aimlessly, a phantom of death among the living, the blade secured beneath the sleeve of her dress dropping into the palm of her hand as she moved. Sight of a known Scorpion soldier tripping, falling towards her almost pulled a smirk to her lips as she stepped into him, the knife sliding between his ribs almost far too easily. The body fell, and she breathed out a sigh - one in the same that caught briefly in her throat as the sight of another, disappearing. Let it go. Jack froze, in a sense that was almost entirely unlike her. Every move and thought ran fluid, almost entirely mechanical and yet now, something between the two snapped. A short circuit that had her brothers words circling her head. Seems you might care for him more than you would like to admit.. A cursory glance across the room allowed a quick headcount of scorpions who remained - enough to encourage the destruction the Vipers intended to ensue. Seething, Jack moved quickly, pushing away the stranger who lent over Brandon, “You had to add hero complex to the list of bullshit, didn’t you?” Obsidian hues leveled with his as she lent down, pressing her free hand down into the wound in his shoulder, “I’m gonna’ help you up, keep low and move as quickly as you can, don’t let go of me.” Hues lingered a little longer on his, and unconsciously, she swallowed back roughly before she looked up, snatching up a gun, half concealed beneath a now unmoving body. Checking the clip, she counted three bullets left and snapped it back into place before she slip her arm beneath him to haul him to his feet.

The noise around them went from loud, to muffled, to almost nonexistent until the silence settled between them. She stood there before Jack and waited because she didn’t know what to say. Where could she even begin? Her eyes took a moment to remain on the ground before lifting them to meet hers. Vi listened quietly mulling over the words, each on under careful consideration. ‘Isn’t something that you needed to hear, or even know’ the statement caused some annoyance in her. How could Jack still think that it wasn’t something for her to know when it involved her? Ignorance hadn’t been anywhere near bliss but instead a mental hell controlled by all her worst fears and anxieties.  “I’m not sorry for it.” She replied matter of factly voice above a whisper, clear enough for her to hear the conviction. Vi really wasn’t sorry that he’d met his end, even if it was at the hands of Jack. She was relieved honestly and that truth alone made her feel —unsteady. What kind of person was she if she couldn’t care even the slightest bit for a loss. In the same breath she hated the fact that any sympathy at all had entered her mind for him. Her next sentence made Violet’s eyes grow a bit wide. She hadn’t thought about the way she had looked at Jack since that night. “Why did you do it?” And was it the first time? That second part never made it past her lips not sure if she wanted to hear the answer and even more unsure if she’d actually hear the truth. “I don’t want to skirt around Jack. But what do you expect from me? To nod and say this is all fine? It’s like you’ve held back this big thing, major—huge! And I just know that there’s more to it, to you that I don’t know.”

…

Asher glanced over at the dark-haired woman when a laugh left her lips, a small smirk coming along his features. “That’s completely evil of you,” he chuckled as she looked down at his beer, bringing it up to his lips to take a sip of it as he brushed his tongue along his lower lip after he swallowed the beer. “Hey, I showed up in a fuckin’ tux. I look good. You’re just mad cause I’m not wearing a towel this time.” 

“Probably,” but who could expect anything less of her? Surely, not Asher Winston of all people. A cheer erupted not too far away, a round of shots poured and taken while the permeating smell of tequila hung heavy enough that Jack could almost taste it in the back of her throat, “Actually, I happen to prefer you without the tux,” Onyx hues stilled on him then over the edge of the freshly poured vodka given to her as she drank. “And the towel.” But, there was far too much to say about what exactly she’d seen over the years, popping up out of the shadows whenever she liked. “Let’s skip back though. You, marriage? I saw that look.”

   Between the overflowing drinks and the sugary delights he had been munching on, Rocco was in dire need of a smoke break to somehow ease himself. It was a nasty habit of his, which was why he was curt enough to excuse himself from both Mila and Giovanni, preferring to attend to his smoking in private. That way, only he would need to suffer.

   He had gone off to a quaint spot near the lake, with the venue still in view, as the Scordato male lit his cigarette. And he was only a good 4 drags in, when he heard the woman’s sudden interjection to his thoughts, prompting him to react to her distressed tone. Almost immediately, he jumped into action to help her, as his conscience was unable to say no to someone in need. 

   “You lost it around here?” he asked, pinching his cigarette between his index and middle finger as he looked to the ground, hoping to somehow catch sight of said earrings. It wouldn’t be easy, as they were on grassy land, but he was intent to help. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can find them somehow.” Rocco reassured her, going so far as crouching down, even, to get a better look somehow in the hopes of aiding the stranger.

No, of course she hadn’t. The realist in her almost willing to scoff at Rocco’s blind naivety, but yet, she clung to the facade and cast doe like, innocent hues across the stretch of grass and garden. “I..-- I think. Maybe here, or...” Her voice slowed, uncertainty taking hold of the veil she lay thick across the truth, teeth pulled deftly at her lips until she could do little more than shrug, “I was over at the stables too but.. I could have sworn...--” Just as she’d first assumed, she was given a far easier task than some - a factor which almost disappointed her. Rocco Scordato had always seemed weak - not the kind that would simply snap, but one that would fray, and break away piece by piece. As he crouched, she swore to simply help... move the process along, “I don’t like our luck...” She muttered beneath her breath as nimble fingers wove tightly into his hair as she drove her knee into the crux of his face, catching the weight of it in her hand before he could fall backwards. “A fucking earring, Rocco?” Had she ever truly come across as so sentimental to him that he would actually believe her? Despite his ties to the bloody underworld of Oceanside, he went far above and beyond to retain some sense of innocence about him that simply didn’t seem to belong. Maybe she hated it so much because she held none of it. A coy smile presses her lips as she pierces the so called, missing earring, back into place - her curled fist soon falling to connect sharply with his cheekbone.

if anyone were to ask emiliano to ever double cross jack that would be a shot in each knee cap and then after a few weeks on torture it would end in evident shot between their eyes. the loyalty that he held for jack was like any other, even though he was older &. sometimes took the role to be the big head of the family, which tended to piss the youngest taylor off but regardless there they were attached to the hip.  ❝ seems like he may need another talk, not as harsh as the first one I’m guessing . ❞ he says with a small smile. ❝ I think you forget that I was the one raised you, as much as you think that I don’t know you , you’re very wrong but I’ll let you think you have the upper hand . ❞  but we always are . her words cause a nod of his head &. she’s not wrong, they go 200% forward with everything that they do. ❝ I think she’s the one that’s been keeping together after this whole thing , she sees something human in me. something I don’t really see in myself . ❞ he honestly never though that he would ever talk about anyone like that again, her next set of words cause another nod of his head. ❝ she knows, she’s in it all the way &. she accepts the ugly parts , parts that I don’t like but she loves it &. it scares me because I don’t think I can handle what happen with carmen to happen with her . ❞ 

Onyx hues rolled back into her skull, teeth grit against the pressing desire to tell Milo that notihng was necessary where Brandon was concerned. Mostly because it felt much too over the top - he was little more than a date, someone who’d offered an in without ever knowing it. The idea that her own brother might confused the issue, made her wonder if perhaps Brandon had done the same.. -- worse still, that she’d allow the thought to cross her mind for even a second. “You’re ridiculous. Go on, say whatever your ego needs you to say to him, it’s no skin off my nose.” She shrugged, nonchalantly, regardless of the flit of concern that pinned itself to the inside of her ribcage. “How could I forget it when you’re constantly reminding me?” It was almost a little much for her, the weight that her brother chose to carry around with him; but perhaps that was the one place that they both differed. “So tell her.” Her gaze lifts to him now, offering up the only answer she has for him. “Do yourself a favor, and tell her. There’s nothing worse than a man who can’t admit to what he wants.” A shocking admission, considering she’d killed the only man that she might have found herself marrying, all because they’d skirted around the truth for so long. “And screw Carmen. That bitch can rot in hell.”

Asher turned his head to look over at the woman standing next to him as a smirk came along his features. “Didn’t realize the Lone Palm was a dive bar. Don’t let Irina hear you say that.” He teased as he let her take the beer out of his hand, leaning back against the bar as his eyes focused on the woman in front of him. “You look like you just got ran over.” He observed. He glanced into the crowd as his eyes found a certain brunette in the sea of people, brushing his tongue along his lower lip. His gaze was pulled away from her when he felt the beer against his chest, reaching down to grab it he cleared his throat. “Uh… Nah.” But the stupid smile on his face told a different story.

The laugh that fell from her lips genuine as she cast hues around, knowing Irina had yet to arrive with the Volkov’s, “Remind me when she gets here, I’ll let her know right after her big entrance and spoil her night a little.” And truly, it wasn’t totally against anything that Jack would do - though she wasn’t close with the woman, neither was she afraid of her in any sense. “Maybe I do, still a sight better than you though.” Without hesitating, her fingers tousle his hair roughly, “As always.” Gesturing for another round, 

…

“Mm, that’s what I’ve always heard,” Bran replied, a measured sort of amusement in the tone of his voice as his own light hues flickered to meet Jack’s darker gaze and the smile he’d been fighting sparked to life on his lips in the form of an openly amused smirk. He could empathize with her rather easily— though he’d always had a knack for drinking and mingling owing to the fact that his father had impressed its importance upon him at an incredibly early age it wasn’t something he found himself eager to do in the presence of known enemies. With his friends? Certainly, he could enjoy a good drink and good company. It was more or less what he felt like he was doing when he could ignore the weight of the pistol tucked carefully against his ribs but it was slightly more difficult to ignore such things around someone who knew as well as he did that by the end of the night they might find those familiar tools put to good use. “Well, here’s hoping whatever excitement the evening brings is worth your discomfort for the moment,” He mused, offering Jack an apologetic smile at the thought. He was no stranger to bearing discomfort for the sake of his work and he assumed Jack was of the same sort– it was simply something they would stomach for the sake of their duty and that was that. He raised a hand to signal the bartender, “Another round this way, mate, if you could.” He paused, humming softly before he glanced at Jack again, “How long do you imagine it’ll be before one of us gets kicked out? I haven’t seen it happen yet. Not overtly, anyway.”

It wasn’t like Jack to take a well warmed liking to many people she came across - often described as detached, and to a point it certainly wasn’t too far amiss. Bran, however, carried himself in a way that Jack seemed to understand beyond niceties and it made being within his vicinity a lot less irksome than most. “It usually is, and since everything seems to be going as it should..” It drew a saccharine smile to her lips as the bartender brought over the next round. The crystal tumbler settling like ice between her fingertips. “A few of them seem to be catching on,” Not that it would bother her all that much, there were far too few of the scorpions that knew where her loyalties lay and so long as she kept out of sight where they were concerned, Jack assumed she’d be able to disappear just as surely as she’d arrived. “I’m sure it won’t take long. Lord knows there’s barely enough room for the amount of egos in this room before the pissing contests even start. Wanna’ wager on it?”

With the bitterness of her conversation with Brandon turning over like a barrel of flames within her stomach, Jack had decided that she’d well and truly had enough of this wedding. Of any wedding. Her place among the crowd and her ability to blend no longer a lurking factor in every move she made as onyx hues followed her target throughout the venue. The slight sway in his step counted towards the alcohol in his system - and surely enough, the horrific display he and his two partners seemed to make would take up enough space in his head that nothing that followed would be anticipated at this point. As heels found the cobbled stone and without even thinking, she drew a hand through her hair to tousle it out of place a little before she backtracked and sidestepped the main doorway to only moments later step out of the shadows. The frantic look on her features an imperfectly imperfect display of feelings she held none of, nimble fingers pulling the earring from her right ear to tuck into the sleeve of her dress. “Don’t step there!” Her voice a little broken as she moved nearer to Rocco, “It’s gotta’ be here somewhere..” Teeth drew over her lesser lip as she scanned the ground for what she knew wasn’t there. Fingers pulling at her now bare earlobe, “My grandmothers earring, I..--” The obsidian that looked up at him now near translucent as the façade of emotion rang true, “It’s.--” Brows knit together gently as she embellished the art of retrieving memory, “It’s gold with..-- w-with a...” Her hand waved a little to jar false impatience until she reached to brush her hair back from her other ear. “Gold, with a single pearl.” A heavy breath broke her performance and in usual Jack fashion, she scoffed and looked away from him then, knowing that it would be a long day in hell that she ever showed such emotion around him until.. “She left them to me, I knew I shouldn’t have worn them.”

Given their previous conversation, it might have been better to let sleeping dogs lie, but Jack had never really perfected the art of it; better they bite, in her mind. Most of the night had kept her keeping a respectable distance from people who knew her to be out of place, but even time couldn’t bide the inevitable. Two tumblers filled with two fingers of vodka and two ice cubes settled neatly in her hands as she strode through the room towards him, her hand outreached in a peace offering as she stopped before him. “Drink with me, you look miserable.”

Given the last few months, it was any wonder that the vipers were pissed - history did not bode well for the snake that lay in wait, and the attack on Vasili was one that bothered many of them. The pseudo brother that existed within him something different than her relationship with Emiliano. Despite knowing that both men could surely hold their own, Jack was fiercely protective of so few, Displays of power weren’t quite in her repertoire, which was exactly why her attention had slowly but surely settled on another. Gerard Callaghan was easily spotted among those celebrating, well known among the scorpions, the captain posed an opportunity that Jack couldn’t just let slip. Idle footsteps carried her across the cobbled stone that led towards the stables, far enough behind that she could play coy as she sidled up alongside him, appreciating the bridle stallion tucked away inside, “I didn’t think anyone else would have strayed out this far,” her hand reaches out to brush against the animals mane. “It’s a beautiful venue but I’m not too sure they anticipated how crowded it would get.”

emiliano taylor was your usual big brother who would take care of his family to great lengths &. jack was no exception to that. ❝ oh, I am not mocking you at all. I actually think you look very nice . ❞ he says as he looks at her and a small smile spreads on his brims ❝ &. here I thought you just used him when you needed to kick someone’s ass, seems like you might care for him more than you would like to admit . ❞ he added and smiled as he waited for her to take his arm &. made his way outside. ❝ you know I don’t take to woman so kindly ; after the whole carmen thing.  ❞  he takes a brief pause as they are far enough from everyone and he slips from her grasp ❝ their is someone new ——- someone I never thought I wanted to be more than just what we are but things have changed &. I need you to tell me if I’m in over my head. ❞ jack was always his counsel &. her candor was always appreciated, no matter how rough it was. 

The key difference between the relationship the Taylor siblings had when compared to others, was that they were connected by the blood that stained their hands far more than that which ran through their veins. Two sides of the same coin, tarnished in ways that might tear one another apart. “Oh,” Her smile is genuine, though it soon dissipates as she crinkles her nose, “Clearly, he has a few more uses than I first thought.” As Milo continued, however, Jack cast hues up at him as if he might have truly insulted her, You might care for him - Surely, her brother wasn’t thinking about Brandon Shapiro, the royal pain in her ass. “You’ve always been bold, Milo... but that certainly doesn’t always make you right. He’s a temporary annoyance, that’s all.” Even if merely saying as much left a bitter taste on her tongue. Mention of Carmen forced her eyes to roll back into her skull, the irate sigh that built not even slightly curbed for his sake, she only hoped this wouldn’t be something about her. “Oh, without a doubt.” Jack retorts without thought, an amicable smile soon gracing her lips as she moved a little way beyond him towards the tree line, “But we always are. We chose everything too big and too great for merely one person to handle, you just have to figure out whether this.. person, is willing to keep you afloat, or allow you to drown.” And if it happened to be the latter, Jack would happily return the favor tenfold. “Do they know?” She stopped then, lithe fingertips plucking at the overhanging branch, “Who you are? About the family?”

As with everything in her life that left a substantial impact, claw marks embedded themselves into the memory of their relationship as it once lived. They hadn’t always gone for one another’s throat at every opportunity, hell just the opposite. Even now as the pair of women bickered as a result of Sam’s direct actions, she couldn’t bring herself to truly match or absorb that venom lest the image of their former life in New York become tainted. “Yeah I’m just a fucking thirty thousand piece puzzle.” A convoluted mess of paradoxes wrapped in the shell of the woman she had been so very long ago. It sounded almost poetic were the consequences of that unresolved trauma not carving open the remnants of her life. “Oh fuck off,” she groaned in exasperation despite how her lips quirked for the tiniest fraction of a second. “No, I didn’t flake. Just a whole lot of the opposite.” Unfortunately it would always exist as the courtesy Sam managed to extend to the first person she ever loved, but not the second. And here they stood. “Glad one of us is getting some enjoyment out of this shitfest. Don’t you have a date? Are you going to tell him he’s so lame that you had to come irritate your––” Ex both fit and missed the mark, just like them. “I don’t remember you being this annoying.”

HE WAS REFUSING to give her the satisfaction that he did know he was full of shit, something in the back of his mind tugging at him to say something, anything, in rebuttal, only it was a common practice for him to deflect when confronted, especially when it came to Jack. So he steeled himself as she spoke to him, words sounding clipped as she talked like she was doing him a favor in attending at his side. Which he guessed in a way he hated to admit she was. Only he didn’t ask her here for whatever a vain reason she may have thought. He liked Jack, they were friends ― no, that’s not it, but something of the sort that made him feel prickly when she didn’t acknowledge him or turn his way when she talked. ❝ And I’m the one who’s full of shit? ❞  His grip on his champagne glass was making his knuckles turn white. If she wanted to reject him, she would. He was certain she’d get some sort of twisted satisfaction in crushing him in such an ego - dampening way that he wouldn’t have been the slightest surprised if she had. But she didn’t. And now she was turning from him, her own deflection almost matching his.

Before she could get completely around him, Brandon finished off his flute in one go and passed off the two empty ones elsewhere. That bubbly quick to mix with the whisky already settling in his stomach, making his whole body go warm as he followed her in stride. ❝ What has gotten into you? ❞ The words cut out from the side of his mouth, his attention forward as he went to open the front of his suit, exposing the tie he was ready to loosen due to nerves and tension. Unwilling to be led around, B cut himself in front of her, closing their walk short as he met her gaze. ❝ No, seriously, why do you keep brushin’ me off, J? Tell me why you even came ‘cos as much as I love mixed signals, this, ❞ He motioned between them. ❝ is gunna give me whiplash by the end of the night. ❞

When the decision to use her invite to the wedding as an in for the vipers, Jack hadn’t felt the need to think twice about the decision. It served a bigger purpose than the endgame the Volkov’s had in mind. One in which, seemed to still the tiltilating feeling in her stomach that came with not really knowing why she’d agreed in the first place. His exuberant line of questioning over the matter a vine that seemed attached to the very same ripple as whatever freedom from it she might have earned herself, dissipated as he followed. Her heel jarred harshly into the ground as he stepped in her way, the cold, hardened gaze within onyx hues unforgivable at best as he did what so few were ever willing to to. Getting in Jack Taylor’s way was a quick way to meet a swift end, and perhaps if he understood that in ways she knew he never would, he’d have thought better of it. Then again - with the predilection of his ego, she could have been wrong. “Why do I keep brushing you off?” Though polite wasn’t exactly something that Jack made a habit of being, what soon fell from her lips was as far from it as she’d been with him just yet. “Because you’re bullshit, Brandon. Everything about you is absolutely bullshit.” The conviction in her voice is surely enough to drive the point home, however, her hand raises and seemingly lifts to make contact with his chest - only it never does, “You think you have everyone fooled with your rich kid, golden boy act, but not me.” Rather than admit that she’d spent the better part of the night observing him, among others, Jack moved quickly, her hand falling away. The fact of the matter was, people like that didn’t come to see people like her just to spar. She’d seen the aggression that slipped through, the frustration and anger.. guilt,  Perhaps, hypocrite, didn’t quite meet it’s match in the form of Jack Taylor, the haunting truth of the myriad of lies she lived purely to survive the way she did existed as an overhanging shadow that dimmed the light in hues that looked back at her now. “You asked me here, and I don’t know if you’ve figured this out yet, Brandon, but I’m not a piece of fucking arm candy so the very least you could do is drop all this fake bullshit you carry around with you or save it for one of the other dozens of morons you manage to buy over with it. ‘Cause that’s not me.” She finished on a breathless high, obsidian hues still fixated on him as if she dared him to try and argue with her. Foolish she may have been, to agree to any of this at all given her track record, but like hell she’d be caught believing something so nonsensical. “I came with you because you asked,” An easy enough, followed by another, “And I happen to really really love the stench of horse manure coddled with more bullshit. God knows the people here carry enough of it between them, so Inevitably, it makes sense that you were invited.” A moment of silence soon fell upon her, the palm of her hand heated against the champagne flute in her hand felt unnatural - all  of it felt unnatural to her. “I fucking hate weddings. I hate wearing heels, and this dress...-- I can’t.. stand this dress,” to which, a gentle laugh blossomed on her lips, soon drowned out by wine.