this is me trying

Location: Anywhere~ 

Open: Anyone!

The article headline was simple, John Doe Found Dead in Parking Garage. There were a bunch of boring words describing the scene and wondering how this could have happened. At the end there was the same ol’ blurb of if anyone has any information please contact NYPD. Mathias would have been happily surprised if anyone did have information. He had done his best work turning the John Doe into a John Doe. No face, no dental records, thumb prints burned off, absolutely no way of identifying the man without doing some hard research. He placed the paper in his lap and stared up at the big sky. So much was happening, and more was threatening to start on the horizon. Mathias had to get in as much fun as he could before it was time to get serious. A person came by him, and he put on the act of just a normal everyday person, looking quite upset about what he had just read in the paper. 

“Do you see what happened? Tragic huh? I didn’t think things like this happened still…”

x

   “Do you think we’ve got a serial killer on our hands, or a good old fashioned Gone Girl situation?” It wasn’t that Laith wasn’t disturbed by events like this, nor that he didn’t feel that familiar drop in his stomach at the headline - but he was a New Yorker, born and raised, and things like this...they were par for the course. “I hate to be Debbie Downer or whoever that girl is.. but it’s pretty normal for us, isn’t it? Even though it’s been uh, mostly quiet lately. Compared to these last couple months. But even that doesn’t really feel right, you know? Quiet only means something is coming.” He sits down, coffee and bag of donuts in hand - Laith’s New Years Resolution of only one Krispy Kreme run per month, was going semi-well. “Donut for your troubles? I come bearing food and my wise wise ears.” 

Renting out a space in the office building she was in was probably one of the best ideas that Ophelia had in a while. She had decided to do some freelancing security work on the side but meeting with potential clients in the back of a bar really wasn’t good for business. Music blasting in her ears, she almost missed someone walk into the smaller room until they were right in front of her. Taking her headphones out, the woman quickly put her schedule up to make sure she hadn’t missed any appointments. She hadn’t. 

“I’m so sorry, did we have a meeting today?” She asked the person standing in her doorway. 

x 

 “Sort of? I’m Laith...Hassan. I emailed you last week or so? I work for a law firm, and we’ve got a minor cyber issue? Well not minor but like, not threat level midnight?” Laith didn’t want to admit he had the computer skills of a well meaning retired grandfather - but he may or may not have the computer skills of a grandpa who covers his furniture in plastic. “If now’s not a good time we could reschedule - everyone in the city probably comes to you, right? Nothing is scared in New York, especially not your computer files.” 

location: a sneaky slightly late okay pretty late lets move on met gala moment because i could not resist k thanks love you byeee

location: lil ramadan celebration at laith’s moms house (just post sunset good stuff u know only eating when allowed mwah mwah)

location: fundraiser gala @ gotham hall. OPEN TO ALL

At this point, Jin is fairly certain that he’s dissociating. The eye contact is there, and he makes sure to nod occasionally, eyebrows slightly furrowed to feign interest. The man ( always, somehow, a man ) prattles on something about Beeple; he can make out Mad Dog Jones before he decides he’s had quite enough and he begins looking past the man he’s supposed to be in conversation in. Then, like he’s just recognized someone in the crowd that he hasn’t seen in a million years, he waves at the person and apologizes. “Sorry, wow. Old friend - do you mind if I -?” And before either of them can say another word, Jin moves towards them, taking them by their arms. 

“Sorry,” he keeps his voice low, pulling his new company away and walking towards - anywhere else. “I’m honestly a little tired of talking about NFTs. Keep me company? Five minutes tops.” 

x 

 “Oh yes, of course? Yeah so is this a kidnapping or?” Laith has only a second to sputter a line or two, before he’s following Jin’s lead, leaving the fizzy apple juice he’d been drinking on a counter. He’s lost track of anyone he knew, forced to resort to tedious small talk and pretending he’d ever seen one of those HBO shows about rich white people - Jin’s intervention was unexpected, but entirely welcome. “People are hamming it up about NFT’s? This party is hell, man. But you should be used to this, right? Fancy parties, shaking hands, wearing a nice outfit - this is your deal!” Admittedly, he didn’t know that much about what Jin actually liked to do, but he knew it wasn’t this; Laith did however, easily picture a tiny Jin a suit, shaking hands with people. “So long time no see - how’ve you been? Pushing that paper, moving those units? Alright, I don’t know business talk and know even less what you do to be honest, but I’m imagining you chugging Starbucks next to an intern named Joe.”

—

Second, fourteenth, pass the one. Yeah, Lola sees what he’s getting at. “I didn’t know you went to school for math,” she jokes. It is crazy — almost as much as Kerri winning that lipsync. “Also, wearing JLo’s dress is kind of cheating.” She smiles with the way his fingers brush through the ends of her hair, and a little more earnestly at the compliment. “…Thanks.”

“May-be,” she says of Phoenix then, “I can’t let him get more V-Day numbers than me. It’s a matter of pride.” And also of general sluttiness. Make no mistake, both are just as valid. “It’s my first Valentine’s Day not-in-a-relationship in — fuck, forever, so.” Beat, as she lets her shoulders conform into a shrug, and abandons her now empty glass atop the coffee table. “Going to a club or something and getting an ego-boost with the singles doesn’t sound that bad. Or with the taken ones. Double score.” She does often wonder if her and Phoenix’s point-keeping chart makes sense to anyone else, when spoken out loud. As she looks back at Laith, there’s the fear he’ll have melted down into goo, but he’s still there — in all his curly-haired, beanie-bearing, enviable-eyelash-game glory. 

Readjusting then, Lola finds herself a new comfortable spot on the couch, carrying her legs over and onto his lap. Despite their sheltering, it’s still cold in New York City, and she rubs her calves together just so as to keep warm. Resting her chin into her palm, Lola nudges his thigh with her foot. “Laith.” She’d blurted out her impromptu nonsense, already. His turn. “What’s your idea?”

x

“Not to brag, but many haven’t just fallen in love with me for my curls and lawyer skills, but my incredible math talents.” Laith usually counted on his fingers or took out his phone, but he wanted to hold the illusion, if only for a terrible joke. “It’s totally cheating! I gotta say I’m this close to writing VH1 a letter of complaint or hiding all of Ru’s dresses that have the same boring silhouette.” He likes the way she blushes ever so slightly, as if she isn’t used to such compliments from adoring fans like himself. “I keep wondering if I’d have a bob if I sat down and straightened my hair - that’ll be my birthday gift to you, though.” 

  Laith makes a pfft! noise at the thought of Lola and Phoenix competing for hearts - mostly because Laith a). thinks the pin hair is an unfair advantage and b). he’s right here, pretty woman! “C’mon, take away the gorgeous looks, money, personality and what does he have? A body built like gumby. But him aside, you’d never really have to compete, right? I mean, with anyone.” He wants to ignore the part about her not being in a relationship and contend they’re engaged, but he knows in his heart he’s played too slow a game. Laith’s head and his heart always agree she’s too - Lola, which in a name encapsulates all her goodness - to truly be interested. Still, he’s decided, in the spirit of the holiday, to truly man up and try. “So does the winner get to go home with like, Lucy Liu or something? Just trying to think of a milf.” 

 He tells himself to play it cool as he drapes his arm over her legs, now nestled in his lap; its the tender, but utterly mundane moments like this, that make his heart race the most. “Well, I was thinking - nay banking on, you spending your entire day, with me. Do you happen to enjoy flowers, pumpkins, rings, lace, cake, jumping and lakes? Just gotta double check.”

location: chez laith

location: chez laith 

—-

Bas’ face changed from open and excited, to a frown and a look of embarrassment. Her lips drawn into nearly a carrot-shape (^). “Don’t judge me but – once we got in, we sat down in the private booth - great view, I get that – the lights went down and I fell asleep.” It wasn’t uncommon for Bas to go to a movie theater or a play and once the lights dimmed, she would find herself dozing off and then sleeping completely. She was around people and while she could be attacked, she figured that in a crowded space like Hamilton’s packed theater - she was safe enough to sleep. “Next time though, when I see it - I’ll be fully invested in the people doing the singing and the dancing about the … thing.” Did she live under a rock? No - but she hadn’t been swept along in the love for Broadway musicals. Especially not a Broadway musical about American history.

But she loved the zoo, and adored the idea of gay penguins raising their own baby - people protesting was perfect for her brand of chaos. “I know - who wants to protest gay penguins? But they do - so we must go,” she said, trying for solemn and stately but could only manage it for a few moments before she cracked a grin again. “Listen to this - we may get arrested, which if we do – oops. We’ll get out, no problem. Is it illegal to throw a wedding cake at people? Don’t answer that. If it’s illegal and we don’t know it’s illegal, we can’t get in trouble – also if we can get in trouble, also don’t tell me because we’re just protesting the protestors. With cake.”

While they spoke, she drove them back to the station so she could trade the ambulance for her jeep. It should be out of place for the city, but she had her vehicle rigged for triage and first response - and she didn’t have to share. She whistled for her dogs, both of them come trotting out - the st. bernard and the newfoundland waited at their respective sides of the jeep so Bas could open the door and let them into the backseat. Her kits were in the trunk. “Gotta bring the dogs,” she explained to Laith. If she was leaving the station, the dogs would come with her. “I could drop them off with the roomie - but they get over-excited when they first see him, and he may be sleeping.” She could text him, but why? “So - lets go find penguin costumes - or at least a tuxedo with top hats - and the wedding cake. Then – anarchy.”

x

“You fell ASLEEP? During Hamilton. Thee Broadway production that gave us Wait For It, which was funny enough, in my top 5 played songs for three years.” Laith was only teasing, really - like most people, he’d soured enough on the story, but Ponytail Man’s music remained undeniable. “Next time we go see Hamilton, I’m bribing someone, or getting someone out of jail early, so we can sit second row. The splash zone, right? Then you’ll be wide awake. As people do the ….thing?” 

  He’s teasing without shame now, pulling his beanie further down his face as he tries to mask his smug expression. “Do you think its people whose marriages have only culminated in the missionary position? Either way, let’s fuck them up - with polite protest, of course.” The question of legality has Laith squirming back up in his seat, his knowledge of the highly illegal parts of their activity, taking a backseat to the part of him that desperately wanted to sling cake. “If the cops come, we run like the wind - like that one time you saw a dog on the street wearing a tutu. Because it is not per say, of any legal nature per say, to as it were, sling cake; however it is also perhaps not entirely illegal to as it were, protest the bigoted protestors. If we got caught, are you hiring me to represent us? Be honest.”  

“I’m leanin’ toward Blonde Ben, honestly. I feel like that’s like Halley’s Comet- we’re never gonna see it again sorta situation. House of Gucci can wait, I’m worried about stomaching Jared Leto, personally.” He shakes his head with a chuckle, almost trying to shake the image of Leto as Paolo Gucci out of his head, “Avoiding you? Never, man. And you alway look damn good in that patagonia, by the way- it works for you.” Manuel sighs and gives him a shrug, “Work has been… work. Pretty much same as always. It’s not you I’ve been avoiding at any rate.” Though, he wasn’t sure if it was really avoidance as much as his fear and anxiety getting the best of him. Either way, Laith? He always wanted to see him. 

location: very cool movie theatre where bros hang

status:  Open location:  random  coffee  shop when: after halloween

exhausted,  drained  of  one’s  physical  or  mental  resources;  very  tired.  and  a  complete  understatement  of  how  he  felt.  a  fourteen  hour  flight  across  multiple  time  zones,  he  was  beyond  jetlagged.  not  to  mention  being  kept  up  all  night  due  to  the  halloween  festivities  going  on  around  him.  yet  despite  how  tired  he  felt,  sleep  eluded  him.  it  was  anyone’s  guess  how  he  was  still  up,  and  functioning.  he  chalk  it  up  to  being  used  to  it.  sleep  never  came  easy  for  him,  usually  running  on  just  a  few  hours  of  sleep,  if  that,  and  a  surplus  amount  of  coffee.  there  were  some  nights  he  didn’t  sleep  at  all.  those  nights  were  either  spent  blowing  up  his  friends’  phone,  if  he  had  to  suffer  so  did  they,  or  reading  old  flies  of  a  seemingly  forgotten  missing  person  case.  

he  just  wanted  to  sleep  for  once.  not  just  a  quick  nap  his  body  allowed  him,  but  actual  sleep.  though,  resting  his  head  on  a  wooden  table  in  a  random  coffee  shop  was  probably  not  the  best  place  to  attempt  such  things.

x

   People slumped over coffee tables in busy shops weren’t an unusual event; people fully camped out, moved into corners of a Starbucks, were a sight that rarely roused anything in Laith. But rarely, was the person he observed, coffee and pastry in hand, a friend of his - particularly not one, he usually considered to have it together. Mostly, anyway. “Would this be considered a meet cute for us? You sleeping in a coffee shop, me coming over with food in hand? Which is for me, by the way, but I’m willing to share.” Laith nudges Jitae on the shoulder to rouse him, before making himself in the opposite chair, spreading his new purchases across the table. “Party too much on Halloween? And I didn’t even see you, man - though I’m assuming you went as a sunflower, or a Wes Anderson character. You’re lucky my hands were full or I would have taken a photo of you to have framed in your office.”

So are we going to break into the MET, storm a Broadway show, or challenge Ramsay to an arm wrestling match?

She laughed in delight when he jumped into the rig and without hesitating, she leaned over to hug him and kiss his cheek in an open display of affection and joy for getting to see him. Anytime someone came along to listen to one of her harebrained schemes, her delight couldn’t be tempered down. “We only stormed a Broadway show once and it was worth it, wasn’t it?” she teased him.

Bas was a tornado of movement; her mind carrying her three steps ahead and four ideas later. She didn’t only have big dreams, but she acted on them. “All right so– I had a great idea.” She fished out her phone and opened the first link she had kept in her notes. “Bear with me because this takes some explaining. I read in the paper…” the same paper that was between them in the rig, as she bought the NY Times every morning from the same newsstand, “that there are two gay penguins that have been given an egg – and the egg hatched. No one was sure what they’d do with the baby, but they’re raising it – really cool, right? Another win against conservatives,” she crowed. She flipped to the next screen. “I also heard through the grapevine that Tracy and Lacey had decided not to get married. They said that they realized that they hadn’t been dating long enough to enter that kind of commitment - which, better the night before the wedding than the wedding day.”

She paused and then realized she had skipped a part of the story. “Tracey is the daughter of Hen - the baker up the road? Yeah - Hen was telling me that she had already made the cake…”

Then the wicked grin started to form. “I asked Hen what she was going to do with the cake, and she said throw it out – now … back to the penguins. Some amoebas decided that they didn’t like the penguins having a baby - moral codes or some nonsense. They’re going to start protesting at the aquarium. I thought – I’d buy the wedding cake, my treat of course if you want to eat some – we find a store that’s open late – buy penguin costumes and then in the morning when they start protesting, throw cake at them.”

Or – we could figure out where they live and leave them cake on their doorstep in honor of the gay penguins raising a baby chick. I thought I’d leave it up to you. But my vote is throwing cake.”

x 

   “Hamilton, right? Lin Manuel’s greasy ponytail was even better up close.” He’d be remiss not to blush a little at her open affection, but it’s a sign of warmth and appreciation, rather than embarrassment. The rig often feels large and imposing, when standing before its might; but situated inside, seated beside Bas, Laith feels at ease. “You lost me at something in a paper, then you had me again at penguins, specifically gay ones working as foster dads. March of the Penguins type of stuff, right?” He falls back into silence, following the rest of her story with a bemused expression. “Tracy and Lacey....” Laith nodes vigorously, trying to give Bas his most confident look - to be honest, he’s not really sure who she’s referring to, but they sound like a couple that wears matching Gap outfits. “Wait - you’re telling me they called off the wedding? Catering orders already in, bridesmaids dresses bought? I always think my perfect crime would be to call off a wedding and watch most of my family drop dead.” Not that Laith would, of course; but little else would make his mother’s heart beat faster, than a marriage called off. 

   There’s something vaguely amusing about people taking the time to protest animals actions, which is paired with the sad reality that, people are taking the time to protest penguins. “Do you think they’ll make it as a couple without getting married? What am I saying - Bas, you know local gossip sidetracks me.” Laith was indeed, his mothers child. “Okay, so fuck those guys who are protesting, I hope their pillows are warm and soft. I hope their bookmarks fall out and the ending to Gilmore Girls gets ruined for them.” In his heart of hearts, he knows he should go for the gentler option; the night ends with him and Bas eating cake, ruminating on the reaction when the door is opened to the penguin cake - but Jupiter is probably orbiting Saturn, or going into Gatorade, and Laith is sitting next to Bas, to he yields to chaos. “So if we do this penguin onesie, cake throwing option - does this mean A., that we’re officially a penguin defense coalition? The Peaky Blinders of Defending Gay Penguins? And B, that I think we’re officially committing our first truly concretely arrest worthy offense together? Because if that’s the case, I’m going to need to take some photos so I can scrapbook this later.”

Laith as Mr. Robot’s Elliot

Title: Drive it Like You Stole It Location: Abandoned Lot, Queens - Late Night For: Laith | @laithassan

—-

Boredom was not a good look on Bas Thibodeaux, not when she was younger and more rebellion minded and not now as she sat in the rig with her legs cross-legged on the seat. She scrolled through her phone, debating on whether it would be better to go back to the station or stay out. But going back in would invite a call, and she was on first rotation. She stretched and yawned, arching her back to try and work out the tired. She couldn’t wait until she could get some sleep, but before then, her finger paused on a message from Laith. She chuckled and sent him a quick text message, wondering if he would be awake and willing to come out and have some fun. 😁🚑 🚨??? she texted him. Not legal - not legal at all, but Bas had a habit of treating the rig like she owned it - she sure as hell spent enough time and energy making sure it was in prime condition - and sometimes she wanted to share the rig with friends of hers. She sent him a follow-up text quick after the first one: i’m bored and i need to have some fun before i pass out. i’m at the old warehouse lot.

x

  It was always the nights where Laith had committed to sitting on the couch and rewatching Gilmore Girls, that he’d receive a text from Bas; often emojis and not words, with the promise of a night of less than illegal activities, potentially some froyo. Without much thought, he fired off a quick be there in twenty - maybe twenty five 🤠 and rolled from the couch, grabbing whatever jacket was nearest, and heading out the door. Laith’s jog over to the old warehouse lot passed without any notable excitement, though he paused to gather his breath - rolling up wheezing to hang out with Bas, wasn’t the move. But soon enough, her rig came into view; intimidating at first, Laith had come to think of it as any other car, save for the equipment and lights. Hopping up as he always did, Laith opened the unlocked passengers door, and slipped inside. “So are we going to break into the MET, storm a Broadway show, or challenge Ramsay to an arm wrestling match? I wore my blue beanie, because I think it works for all kinds of mischief. And I’ll never understand how you operate at all hours of the night, but I do very much, admire it. I think that makes me the henchman to your Draucla.” 

-

Even over the loud pop tunes that played in the gym, Andrew heard Laith. People tended to talk a lot when they were working out. Obviously the best way to recover was to speak so much you didn’t even get to catch your breath. Or maybe that was a coping mechanism that popped after after one did too many dead lifts. Andrew had his hands on his hips, staring down at the weights as if it would somehow make them lighter. “Huh? Yeah, eighty, plus a hundred and twenty. So you were close”. Ah yes, their joint Halloween costume, the ground staple of their friendship. How else would people know of their bond if they didn’t dress up together for a holiday. “You’re gonna get there. You just gotta work out with me a bit more. Maybe we can sneak in some running too, how’s that sound?”

x

  “Are you really trying to tell me you bench press two hundred pounds - not to brag I’m a math whiz - in addition to posing for charity calendars?” Andrew’s arms were roughly the size of Laith’s thighs, a fact he would be remiss to not point out a later date; if he was never looking to making a quick buck, however, a Firefighters of the Year calendar was number one on his list. “Running? Only appropriate if you’re being chased by a killer, or Nicole Kidman in Practical magic is standing at the other end of a each, arms outstretched. Running, pshh; are you an actor on Baywatch? Which is, a great Halloween costume you should keep in mind.”