graceland too

starter for anyone that’s on the side of the street. 

She slammed on her car door, letting her head fall back against the back seat with a loud groan that echoed throughout the useless metal box. She had been told that she would only have so long and that she’d need ample fixes to be done to the old car she was determined to keep. But when the key turned and the motor didn’t jump to life, she feared the worst. Still, she hoped that maybe a quick jump could fix it. Getting out of the car, she began to flag the nearest person down. “Tell me you know something about cars? At least something will be more than I know.” 

   An overbearing scent of cigar smoke surrounded Fernando as he stood just outside the Cancun, either from the one coming that he currently held between his fingers. Or the butts of cigars and cigarettes that littered the ground in the area from other smokers.  Cancun was normally a lively place. But he could only tolerate listening to drunken idiots controlling the music selection inside for so long. When it got to the point where he was fantasizing about all the different ways he could break some idiot’s fingers that had spilled a drink on him. He executed that rare bit of self-control he possessed and went out.   Taking one last pull from his thick cigar, before heading back inside. The blaring notes of some song he was unfamiliar with now assaulted his ears. He made a mental note not to come back on karaoke night.  As he meandered his way to the bar signaling for a bartender. He spoke to the person next to him:   “I’m willing to give you twenty bucks if you just get up and queue a different song,” looking off in the direction of those who stood near the DJ, . “if I listen to one more chorus before I’m heavily intoxicated,  violence will ensue.”

x

 “Not a big fan of Post Malone, huh? My kid tells me he’s the best thing since sliced bread, but it more or less sounds like goat wobbling to me.” Joaquim had not qualms with appearing old, when it came to his disregard and heavy distaste, for the music that he was forced to seek out, in order to appeal to his son. More or less, his concern was crossing paths with one of the Cartel’s highest ranking members - training meant he never appeared less than the image of placid coolness, but inside, he harboured an unhealthy amount of sweat and panic. “I’m glad to be your proxy for a better song - are we in desperate straits, and anything will do, or should I seek a certain type of replacement? Everyone seems in high spirits today, peace all around and what not - people seem in the mood for something to reflect our strange era of tranquility.” 

“Is it just me or is this one of THE MOST dramatic cities I have ever been in.” The question was mostly for herself, but the amount of antics the woman had seen in just the short amount of time she had been in this city was astronomical. “I feel like my case load is never ending most days.”  

x

  “New York City? Full of drama? That’s like asking if a hit series about the mob is going to be set in New Jersey.” Joaquim didn’t desire New York City to be the cess pool of incessant crime that it was; but New York, without its antics and dramatic highs, simply wasn’t New York. They’d be some sad, boring city, like L.A. or Austin. “The case load however, I wish I could help with - this last year or so? It’s been a particular brand of hell. Chief of Police turn over, one gang incident after another... you might be better off looking to locate to the Midwest, if things keep up.” 

location: lil mom and pop diner! 

location: street cafe who: for everyone

Adjusting in her seat, the doctor thought of her mother and the stroke she would endure if she could see Rana perched in the flimsy iron chair, legs bent under her ‘like a bird’. Those kinds of thoughts grew faint in the years she cut her parents out of her life, but the saying about bicycles rang true again when the voice in her head morphed from her own to the shrill undertones of maternal love. Breathing in the vapors rolling off her third cup of coffee, Rana closed her eyes and willed herself to be stronger than the trauma that hung like a shroud on her shoulders. She was just tired, exhausted from a thirty-six hour shift. Anyone would find their mind weak after that.

Half a minute later she opened them again, breath exhaling heavily as she turned her attention to the traffic on the street. It was still early, before eight if she had to guess. Rana didn’t want to look at the time until she was waking up for her next shift, but context clues (bodies rushing, scowling faces, the general air of lateness) permeated the air and made it easy to tell. She might be well on her way to a good night’s day’s rest, but the rest of the world was just starting out. How ironic. 

Lost in her observations, she almost didn’t see the mistake happening until it was too late. Her coffee sloshed over her hands (and hers and the passerby’s shoes) as she jumped to move out of the way of the falling tray of dishes. Her escape route moved her into the path of someone else, though it took a moment of low swears for her to even realize. “Fuck, did I get you too?”

x

 “This morning I did look in the mirror and say to myself ‘Wow, you know what those shoes could use? A light coffee color’.” Joaquim delivered the line with nothing but warm amusement, as he gently shook the coffee contents from said shoes. He didn’t want the spill, of course; but he found it a waste of everyone’s time and energy, to become upset and it - plus, he’d been guilty of enough Starbucks spills, to fuel an A-list celebrities coffee addiction. “Are you alright, though? Kind of a spectacular spill, there; the kind of tumble that a personally use earns when their mind is elsewhere, or they’ve just tripped over a massive crack in the sidewalk. Unless you were just looking for someone to talk to, and decided to try out a new tactic? You’re in luck, if that’s the case - I can’t stress enough, that I’m too chatty for my own good.”

Title: The First Day Location: NYPD Headquarters For: Any Law Enforcement & Affiliated Law Enforcement People Synopsis: Newly sworn in Chief of Department Konrad Thorne reports an open door policy to those who work within the NYPD in an effort to learn about the various precients and departments now under his purview. — His ongoing talks with Julien had paid off, though he wouldn’t say handsomely as the role he was stepping into was like playing minesweeper in a minefield without assistive technology. Yet, he wouldn’t have taken it unless he had been confident in his abilities. But it wasn’t his abilities and power of perusasion that was going to make the NYPD an organization marked less by its corruption and power-plays and more by service and community involvement. He was never going to make any of his goals a reality if the precients dug their heels into their racism and corruption – and whole more precients were above bar, the ones that were plagued by a history of corruption were going to be the ones who made his life difficult. “At best, I have a decade. At worst, I have a year,” Thorne said, having remained away from his desk and looking at the city through his office window. “This position requires the stars to align perfectly. Society demands and deserves a police force that acknowledge we aren’t always the answer –” He mused on his new task before he turned. “But I can’t control society - I can only help move the NYPD forward while I have the power to do so, and I am hopeful that some of the younger generation can set the example for the older.”

x

  “The record is thirteen years - cheer up, I think you have a decent shot at making it. And I think that current events are on your side; if you last only a year? It’ll reflect bad on officials, above all else.” He knew only surface level information, regarding the man who now held Keaton’s position; Konrad’s reputation was strong, but Joaquim withheld judgement, still. Rumours and case files, could only tell part of the story; whether or not Thorne was suited to the job, had yet to be seen. 

 It was a position that made Joaquim rather spend a year on dance moms performing, then take up himself; for this, he admired Konrad’s gall, and his ability to take up a job that was both coveted, and terrifying as a prospect. “I’m afraid I may not be what you’re looking for, if you’ve got your eyes set on the youngest - seasoned but not quite middled aged? Mature? There, I’m your man. Though naturally, I too think of this city first, above all other things; politics, agendas? I’m not so naive to think I can operate outside them - but I am earnest, in my desire to create change, in these pressing times.” 

( x )

Faint bags under his eyes and ragged nails would, perhaps, pass him off as a down-on-his-luck Wall Street type. He didn’t hold himself as ostentatiously, however; not with the dour crease to his mouth and the flatness of his brow. Elijah was a man who appeared to not have a sense of humor, or if he had, it had been wrung out of him until naught remained but something filtered out and neutralized. Leaning back in his seat, he scratched the top of his lip - gestured to the seat, invitingly. “Detective Borges,” he greeted politely, with a nod of his head. There was no reason to turn aside anyone willing to sit with him, not even for a brief chat. He liked to stay up on his contacts, his friends, and other social elements.

As for what he did, during Halloween, he grimaced briefly and then popped an olive into his mouth to nip around the pit, thoughtfully. “I was home for Halloween, my father wasn’t feeling good and had the whole extended bloodline coming in from every borough and neighborhood to stand vigil on the off chance his cold felled him this time.” Which, was not entirely true; not when it came to the Grace family. “I did get  to see the local kids, though. Lot of people I grew up with were bringing their whelps by, they’re all real cute. Fat babies n’ chatty daughters.” There was a genuine affection he had for those kids.

“I was hoping to pick someone off the street willing enough to tattle,” to be prompted financially to tattle, obviously.

x

 “So is that how the other percent spends Halloween? Distinguished bloodlines lead to vultures circling? Maybe being born outside a legacy has occasional perks.” For what it was wroth, Joaquim only meant his words in light jest; he didn’t regard Elijah’s family name, as anything but that. What it brought the other man, good or bad, didn’t not inform his opinion in the slightest. He sat down, a bitter tasting latte before him; Joaquim didn’t ascribe to many cop stereotypes, but burnt coffee and pastries tended to ring true. “Halloween is always better because of kids - I remember when my son was little and we’d take him around the neighbourhood. I think we went as Spiderman for seven years in a row.” What Joaquim omitted, was the bitter day when your kid decides he’s too old to trick or treat with you - or when he’s moved on to activities on the 31st, that make you long for his younger years. “Looking for leads on a case? Every now I get leads on the old hotel heist, but they all turn to shit. Something weird going on in the streets right now.” 

-

“I’VE NEVER LIKED THOSE GROSS yankee candle latte’s.”  If it wasn’t the pumpkin spice latte then it was the creme brûlée or whatever else they had there. Some sort of apple crisp, maybe. All worst than the other. She was a strong and bitter coffee drinker so anything sweet made her want to get ill. Did the barista hate her, though? Now she had to think about that because she tended to look like an asshole whenever she came in after a late shift so maybe that had been misinterpreted into the barista assuming she was just a bitch. “It could be a crush because I’ve always though one of them was flirting with me but I do hope it’s that because I’m afraid of drinking my coffee if it’s a grudge.” She could only imagine what someone would do with her drink if they hated her. “Joaquim. I like it and I think I prefer it not being Phoenix. I like ones of a kind the best.”

x

 “Yankee Candle Lattes. They’re horrible, I’ll give you that - but the right kind of horrible, you know? It’s like eating a piece of candy.” He and hordes of mini-van driving moms, were bound to a semi-shameful predilection for seasonal, sugary drinks; among Joaquim’s lesser sins. “See, I was onto something - maybe wink at them and see if it speeds up the process? Or draw a knife across your throat, if you think it’s more of a grudge; though I’d promptly through out the drink, then.” Joaquim had full faith in the situation being the former, but barista’s in NYC were a special breed of overworked and underpaid, but always in demand; it undoubtedly led to fearsome grudges. “I like one of a kinds too. Which probably makes the pain of your time being wasted waiting for coffee, all the worse. Do you work nearby? If it comes soon, you can just race over.”

return to form | open

WHERE? | othello’s, a bodega in astoria. WHEN? | following the october 31st event. WHO? | sergeant elijah grace & your character(s), four maximum! WHAT? | back on the job after a brief hiatus, elijah is looking for information about the oct. 31st parties that happened at the cancún, and to a lesser degree, MEDUZA. as an officer affiliated with the SVD, there’s been some new cases that have been placed on his desk. dm me for specific plotting, or hop on in for improv! CWs | blanket warnings for topics pertaining to the SVD department, which deals with specialized investigations on behalf of individuals who require specialist handling, this includes the very young, the very elderly, or the disabled. if these topics are triggering to you, please let me know or block #cw special victims policing!

It wasn’t as though he disliked Halloween. The celebration itself was fine; another dime-a-dozen holidays given to consumption, as all celebrations had become. His family had wanted him home over the holiday, calling on him to put in some of that reserved time-off he kept in the back pocket only because he’d never know when they were going to call and demand he come back to them. One didn’t deny the Grace family, not even in their quietest of hours.

Returning to the city-proper, Elijah would be found at his favorite haunt - the brick-and-glass bodega that served countless folks their meat-packed subs, fresh produce and cut flowers for those last-minute dates. Othello’s had been his refuge since he’d been old enough to enter its doors without being immediately told to tie his shoes and go home, mind his mother and eat all his vegetables.

Outside at one of the small, ironwrought tables, he sat with the sandwich special: a hero filled to bursting with chicken tenders, lamb, onion rings, mozzarella sticks, white sauce and hot sauce. Dressed in dark jeans and an equally dark henley, he paused mid-bite. Whomever he was looking at, he’d deemed them an asset to his ongoing investigations. And thus, setting his too-large sandwich down, he beckoned to them and called out: “Hey, I got a question for you. You hear about that invite-only party over at the Cancún the other night? Sounded like a banger.”

x

  “I would have gotten you on the list, but I didn’t think anyone would buy you as anything but some Wall Street type.” Armed with a black coffee and a sandwich of his own, Joaquim is drawn to the familiar figure stationed alone at a table; peeling plastic on the seat cushions, be damned. Halloween had surprisingly easy, quiet - he’d almost call it fun, really. A rare moment in his life, not dominated by outside anxieties and pressures. “Where’d you spend Halloween holed up? Don’t tell me you sat around in your apartment all night, eating candy you should’ve handed out to kids.” Joaquim was perhaps, pushing the limits of his acquaintance with the sergeant; but he liked to pretend, in the moments where he wasn’t married to his cover, that their shared duty and oaths, bound them somehow. “Come here often? Which I swear, isn’t a line - neither is me asking, if I can take a seat.” 

location: The Cancún 

open: to anyone

Things were too quiet, by now she would’ve expected several fights ending with at least a few broken bones or knocked out teeth. Perhaps it was the quiet before the storm. Aysun knew she was being paranoid and that she should enjoy her one night off that she could only get every few months. So she decided to do just that. Take the time and let loose. Get drunk, dance, find someone that could entertain her for a few hours. Which has brought her to the ten shots she’d ordered for herself. The contents of her flask were empty by now and Aysun decided to skip the tipsy stage and go straight towards drunk. She was about halfway through the shots when she felt someone’s eyes on her. “Are you just going to stand there and stare or do you have something to say to me?” 

x 

   “Are you always this friendly, or is it just my lucky day?” Joaquim had managed to navigate the party, with relative ease - his nerves were heightened, he hadn’t touched a drink yet, and his only goal, was to walk out without confrontation. Eyeing the route to the door, and the woman who stood in front of him, his plan for muted peace died. “Look, you’ll forgive me for bursting your bubble, but I’m less interested in you, and more in the door - but listen, if you were looking to start some intergang fight? I’ll be happy to point you in the direction of a drunk Bart Simpson, i just walked by.” 

location: civilian party 

Joaquim as Magnum P.I. 

— open start for anyone. 

ISABEL WAS HOVERING NEAR THE counter waiting for her coffee with a hoodie over her head and thick glasses over her eyes. The migraines had gotten worse as of late and even though it could have been a result of the liquor she’d had the night before, it was most likely due to lack of hydration. The coffee she was getting would only make it worse but it was a price to pay to be somewhat functional. When someone walked over to the counter and took a coffee, her eyes pointed in their direction. 

“Is that your coffee because if you leave with mine, i might have to kill you.” It was a joke… somewhat. But she’d been waiting long enough for her coffee that the irritation that grew in her chest made her feel like she could actually do it. It was never too early to get a little dirty. “I’ve got a black coffee.” Her eyes moved towards the label. 

“Name is Isabel but god knows what they heard.” She’d more like growled it at them after the barista had asked her to speak louder a few times. 

x

  “Unless you’ve also ordered a knock-off Pumpkin Spice Latte....I think I’m going to sadly say, that barista probably has a grudge against you, and wants you to wait.” Joaquim didn’t enjoy shelling out six dollars for coffee, at his local Starbucks; and so he instead shelled out five bucks, to a local place that harked their own version of the sugary, seasonal drink. “Do you come here often? Maybe it’s not a grudge, but instead a crush - I fear for whoever took your order, though; hell hath no fury like a woman who’s coffee order has been absconded.” Turning the cup over, he showed her the black sharpie writing, offering a butchered spelling of his own name. “It’s Joaquim, not Joaquin, but it is mine - my last name isn’t Phoenix either, even though I’ve considered it.” 

“That’s a tragedy if I ever heard one,” next morning, Jakob would meet Joaquim with homemade poppy seed rolls. “Only if you take me to Brazil in return,” his parents might have liked traveling around back when he was younger, ever since they had moved here, trips abroad consisted in visiting family in Spain and Germany, which, quite frankly was not quite as exciting as he would have wanted it to be. His family was not exactly his crowd. His siblings aside, he found them harder to tolerate every time they went back. “An abandoned building for an HQ? That’s not suspicious at all,” he rolled his eyes. If you were gonna be discreet, you ought to meet somewhere crowded. Jakob would have put his HQ among a mall, a casino or a supermarket. No one would notice that some escaped through a door in the back. An abandoned building? That just seemed too obvious to him. Then, he didn’t expect much from most people. “You’re probably right though… They must have a boring place where they meet and discuss the revolution.” His tone tainted with mockery, he took a seat.

“Animal scent never killed anyone,” that probably was a lie but he hadn’t learned a single thing about that in veterinary school. Poisons and toxins, he knew plenty about, but no such thing as a lethal scent. “Asbestos, on the other hand. Imma call the health department on them,” he wouldn’t. A waste of his time, it would be, although, he was curious whether he was right or wrong about the place, and that was a good reason enough to waste a little bit of his time indeed. “Heh, no, thank God. Only a few more years and I’ll be done,” though Jakob knew himself, and it was possible that he decided not to stop at one research thesis or one specialty.  “You know, with the sort of money we’re making, you probably could go back to university. I mean, between you and I, you’re perhaps one of the rare people at our level that could rise in the hierarchy,” which meant that he could have a proper job on the side.

"Church, mom and hiking? Sounds like a blast,” alright that sounded like mockery. It was mockery. But Jakob didn’t really mean to be hurtful with his words. Rather than taking it all back, he turned toward the other. “I ran out of hiking places to explore a while ago already,” that wasn’t something he ever shared with the older man, as far as he recalled, and the thought of doing hikes with someone rather than on his own outweighed pretending that he didn’t need anyone to function. It was made clear, however that he didn’t have an habit to ask others anything, as he fumbled to find the right words: “I - errh. I could,” a beat, “maybe we could do that sometimes. Find time for that stuff.”

With a shake of his head, he dismissed those activities Phoenix thought adequate for the youths. “I’m the CEO of despair, but the others heh, I don’t care much for social medias. A waste of time, if you ask me, and a real invasion of privacy. Look into anyone’s social media page and you’ll know their whole life,” which was why he shared only the bare minimum, with a selected number of people.

x

“It’s a deal, only if you’re willing to wear matching speedos with me.” Joaquim hadn’t worn a speedo in over ten years; but for Jakob, he’d be willing to squeeze back into one, even if he were to be shone up by a youngster. “I think out of every well known faction in town, they’re not known for being the most….shall we say, criminally inclined? Subtle? They deal in absolutes, and so subterfuge seems to fall to the way side.” He didn’t have anything against them, truly, even if he did take delight in the camaraderie, born out of taking shots at their expenses; Joaquim certainly pictures them in a warehouse on the edge of town, marked ‘do not enter’, pouring over plans to take out town hall while men like hime waffled over what exactly, his cause was. “They’ll be in the back of a thrift store, probably hiding in plain sight, and where their leader purchases his revolutionary chic attire.”

  He leans back in his chair, allowing a wide smile to envelope his features; the bowling alley smell, doesn’t seem so pungent anymore. “That’s a bold face lie, but you’ve almost got me convinced - if I hadn’t been sprayed by a skunk when I was 16, I wouldn’t question it.” The skunk thing is partially true, but Jakob demurred often enough to let things squeak by.“That’s the German in you - standards, health codes, and all that. I try not to think about the lead paint in various buildings around the city.” There were health codes in place, safety checks, etc etc; but those with the right connections, the law was but a suggestion - for he and Jakob’s employers, it simply doesn’t exist. “So what’s after school, for you? Full time zoologist, researcher….or are you staying here?” Joaquim gestured around vaguely, referring to less of the literal building, and more their shared profession; which for him, had become his reality - but for Jakob, a road block to a real life, a good one. “Me? Back in school? Maybe I’ll take after you, go into animals; or astrophysics. But rising up and out? That’s all you kid - you’ve got endless potential, your whole life ahead of you.” Jakob’s next words are the honest core that cuts through each of their actions; the mutual goodness that flowed between them, and a desire for more, undercut by circumstance. 

 “When you get to the ripe age of seventy five like me and you’ve lived a long life, your mom and hiking are the two best things.” It was a boring answer, and Joaquim knew it; but he’d grown so tired, that boring felt like the greatest thing. “Do you get far out of the city? That’s where the best places are; don’t tell anyone this, but the best places are in Jersey.” They sat together at a bowling alley now, but he could picture them out on a hiking trail - an odd father and son, who betrayed none of their dark activities. “We could go to a baseball game, and I could pretend I know what’s going on; or something better, like laser tag.” 

  If he were in a different line of work, he’d invariably have set up a domestic, nearing middle age father facebook page; but with a need to remain untraceable, Joaquim now erred on the side of the cautious, of the suspicious. “Does this mean if I get the pleasure of following you on instagram pending me ever joining, I’d be part of a select crew? I’m with you, though - I don’t understand making yourself so public ad traceable.”

Stuck in line for who knows how long, he was nearing the end of his rope, impatience clear as day on his features despite the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he chatted to his colleague on his phone. The cafe was usually short-staffed but they were the only ones he knew who could get do their coffee right in this godforsaken city. He idled momentarily, fixing his gaze down towards a selection that would no doubt be hard as nails by the time he reached the front.

“No, no. Still in line,” he noted, casting a begrudging look towards the front of the queue. “Some idiot in front of me can’t make up their mind. Start the meeting without me. I’ll be here for the rest of the day it seems.”

x

   “Can we do a group vote and kick him out of line? You can blame Squid Game for my mentality, but I feel like the majority deserves coffee, over someone who can’t pick a latte from a cappuccino.” Joaquim usually cast himself a patient man, who’d gladly spare an extra five ro so minutes in line - but the man at the first, had been dawdling at the counter for an ungodly hour; delaying him, and the well dressed man standing in front of him, the ability to order for a good ten minutes. “I hate to say it, but I think the line moves faster at Starbucks - five dollars more, but I’d have been out the door by then. You’ve got a meeting you’re going to miss? Whatever intern didn’t grab a coffee for you, is surely on the chopping block.” 

—

“Am I?” Rahi asks, after yes, looking over his shoulder once more. He hadn’t realized he’d been doing it. “Everything’s just so weird lately. Maybe I am. God.” He smiles, and shakes his head, “I have no idea. I think I have three pants, and five shirts. You’ve probably seen them all. The worse you dress, the more likely to be a scientist you are. Here? That’s practically gold.” 

A majestic row of planets paves their way, and they walk past them, until they find Earth. Rahi’s got some lame factoid ready on his tongue, but it’s soon lost at the questioning. Would you go to space now? It’s an easy answer, with complicated roots. 

“As long as they don’t have a lazy eye or name their children after numbers,” Rahi says. “Why, are you a secret billionaire? Is that an offer?” Brow raised and smile wide, he comes to a stop where they are, smack-center by the beat New York City rotates their way. He’d wanted to point out, We’re here, but lost all timing. “It’d probably be one of those cases where addicts can’t stay away from a bottle, even if they know it’s bad. It’s tempting — I’d like to think I’d say no, but I don’t know. Once you’re up there, nothing else makes sense.” Every time Rahi feels his blood getting hotter, Joaquim curbs it all with perfectly-timed smoothness. He’d wonder if it comes with the job, but knows all too well his colleagues are simply known for state-funded animosity. “…Pretty sure I said that would happen.” He shakes his head, “But I mean, you see planets all the time, whenever you look up at the sky. You might just not know it, without one of these.” Rahi taps at the base of the planetarium’s high-range telescope. Too often, it’s the only reason why he comes here at all; his apartment window can only stand so tall. “Come on, let me show you.” 

As Rahi lets his fingers work around the adjustments, he can’t help but go on, “About last time — I was really drunk. I’m sorry.” For whatever. It’s hard enough attempting to remember. “…When did you go home? Before, after me? I heard about what happened, that there was trouble. The kind you should have taken care of.” The last part is delivered with equal parts care, knowledge, and guilt. He’d been the one distracting him, after all. 

x

 “Maybe I am God? That’d depend on your denomination at the moment - but for what its worth, I wouldn’t be against the assertion.” Joaquim knew well enough what Rahi had actually said, had actually meant; but like a middle school child, he took every viable opportunity, to turn a throw away line, into something more. “So is that why you’re always rocking JCrew chic, mixed in with ‘I was up all night doing either scientific or illegal things’? Maybe I’m off base with the jcrew part; they probably aren’t on the list of approved brands.” 

   The earth, as Rahi would view it from space, is always a marvel to Joaquim - he knew he belonged with two feet firmly planted on the ground, but allowed himself a healthy admiration of the universe. “Funny you should mention it, because I’ve got a daughter named R4H113; inspired by this guy I know.” Joaquim shrugs coyly at the suggestion; unopposed to the notion he could make a thousand times his current salary. “I’m not saying I’m not secretly a billionaire, undercover to try and figure out what worthy good samaritan, deserves a trip through the stars.” He was well acquainted with deception; Rahi was amongst the few, who knew him for what he truly was. “Would we lose you, then? If you got up there, spent five hundred or so days orbiting; better for your trusted circle of admirers then, that you stay earth bound.” Was he an admirer? A friend? Were they frenemies? (rip 2021-21) - Joaquim didn’t know, but he feared what would happen, if they tried to ever clarify. “I always try to make time, whenever there’s a news alert Mars or whatever, will be visible - and then I never see shit, with the telescope I bought from Target.” Like half of what he owned, it’d been an attempt to bond with his son; among the many, that had failed. “You’ll have to show me on my own telescope, one of these days - so next time I’m looking up at a planet, there’ll be a good chance, you are too.” Fond sentiment, was better than the Uranus joke, that’d come to mind; but honesty always felt best, with Rahi. 

   “I don’t know what you’re sorry about, to be honest.... I don’t have any regrets, but I understand if you do.” It’s a honest confession, one that mirrored the many he delivered that night; but it’s in the light of day, and he’s standing before a telescope - a faint blush, creeps across his own cheeks. “After you left, I wasted so much time at that bar, got into some shit with this fantastic but slightly off kilter white guy;  it was only when people started screaming, that anyone on the level had any fucking clue what went down. I still don’t understand what happened; beyond the fact we’re all out of our depth. But you got out okay, right? The pair of you?” The newsies outfit wearing, pencil pushing partner.