last stops, lost causes

Despite her outward demeanor when it came to Santiago, she considered him a bit as an obnoxious little brother, his behavior endearing rather than irritating most days. Plus, of all the blood relatives of the Family, he seemed to truly want the best for people as a whole, not just those under the safe umbrella of their organization. "I mean, I care," she said, waving her hands vaguely. "How important is the dinner? How badly do you need to be a dumbass?" She sighed, resigned to the fact that regardless of the situation or difficulty, she'd always help him. "What's it for, when is it?"

"You'll have to teach me your ways, one day." Elena's grin was contagious, smile curving over her own lips as they headed towards the bar. "We did." Something she was beyond grateful for now. "A trial isn't a bad description." It had certainly felt like an endless battle, though she doesn't stray too far into that territory. There's a sense of gratitude that her friend cares but she had no desire to relive it nor dampen the mood of the evening by referencing how the last one had gone so badly. "But it is back to normal. Always feels a little eerie how things continue almost as if it never happened. It's how we get through, I suppose." While she'd learned to hold space with the emotions that came with being a doctor, rather than brush them away, she also knew that some of it had to be left behind before it buried her. "How's work for you?"

"Oh, that would be a multi-week course. Multi-month. I have so much knowledge," she said, expression faux-serious the few seconds she could maintain it. "I would absolutely be barred from every casino in Vegas, though." A little wave and she caught the attention of a bartender, then ordered herself a glass of white wine before she leaned against the bar itself, absently toying with the obsidian crown pinned carefully to the top of her head.

Arrogance didn't sit well, particularly not from someone half her age with even less experience, but she at least managed to summon the grace not to reprimand the Barone lawyer like some school teacher might an unruly student. Instead she offered a tense smile and a nod as she accepted the proffered cup, continuing on her path to her office with the other in tow. By now surely Vivienne relayed just how much the mayor didn't trust a single member of their combined families, and she surely wasn't about to start.

In any other world, Mia knew she would be below the mayor of the city. After all, she was a junior lawyer at a law firm. In any other world Mia would truly respect the woman before her for carving out a space of power in a world ruled by men. Incompetent men at that. And perhaps she did have some respect for the other. But, this was no other normal world. They both knew what Mia's last name meant. The invisible ties she had that were not spoke aloud, or that could be proven. They both knew that this city did not belong to the government of this city.

Perhaps in another universe, Breslin might have tossed her out of her office after laughing in her face. It might have been satisfying, even. This one, however, required her to sit still and take the disrespect from someone half her age with even less experience. She offered a patient politician's smile in response, betraying nothing of her absolute displeasure for this entire situation beyond the as yet untouched cup of coffee placed on her desk. A denied peace offering, a warning.

Emil nodded, knowing that to be factual. He considered Elena good at her job, really. This crisis that they were in seemed to be hard to keep track of, if he were to be honest. He was in no way shaped up or down by what The Hollow did or didn't do to their organization or himself, but Emil hated losing. He wouldn't let people that didn't even show their faces get away with anything, they'd taken enough from everyone in The Family specifically. Taking another shot, he managed to get two more, leaving him with only one last move, which he missed. "Got it." He'd say that it was good to see her in better shape this time around, of course, but Emil was a man of few words, if any. The fact that he was still playing billiards and not walking away from her after getting what he wanted from the conversation probably said enough. "You ready to lose or what?"

He seemed satisfied with her answer, which allowed her shoulders to drop as she released the tension that built there over the course of the conversation. This was a tightrope walk for all of them now, and one wrong move meant a stranger could dump their darkest secrets into the open to the detriment to their group as a whole. Now apparently comfortable with the conclusion of business for the evening, Emil sunk another pair of billiards and missed, and Elena beamed. "Oh honey," she said, teasing, then lined up shot after shot, each done with the speed and efficiency bestowed over years of experience. "I paid for college doing this shit. I don't lose."

❧ @lcststops (breslin) ❧ city hall

By now, that knock was familiar enough to earn a simple hum of acknowledgement at the sound of it, her attention still mostly focused on the screen in front of herself as she finished another email, then moved to schedule a meeting in a shared calendar. Francis maintained it for the most part--small blessings--but she frequently altered it where necessary. She'd thankfully decided against going to casino night after a string of bad luck where events were concerned, and thus dodged most of the media storm that followed it. That didn't mean she was entirely free of the fallout, however.

Stella listened with a smirk. Of course, there were plenty of angles and sides to consider. Did she deal with rich kids almost every day? Well, to a degree. In that regard the detective found herself dealing with said rich kids after work far more than during the times she spent getting paid by the police department. Though whether that made it her scene or not was up for debate. "What can I say, I do like a challenge." It was certainly challenging at times.

August laughed brightly and shook her head as she toyed with the glass in her hands. "Challenge is certainly a word for it," she replied before she took another sip. She herself would be quite so patient with people over a decade her junior acting like they owned this city on account of a name or money, something she never quite tolerated even during her younger years. Now it became a point of contention where the gangs were concerned, but at least she wasn't in a position that required regular interaction.

"As much as I support her wrongs as well as her rights, I don't think either of us want to deal with that." She chuckled as she encouraged Alfie to follow along, grateful that the picture her friend had painted probably wasn't going to come to pass. "I'm not sure I could do without her at this point - we've lived together since college." Their house only really felt like a home when they were both there, Blair being the crucial part of that. "Guess living on your own is peaceful?" The question is tentative, more curious about where August found that feeling than believing it was something that she'd find reassuring. Quiet had always unnerved her, growing up in a house where silence at best meant disinterest and at worst was wielded like a weapon.

As the trail grew a little rougher and stepper, August eased up on the reins and allowed Boone to pick his way carefully among the rocks and dry shrubs, his footing sure despite his inexperience. "Uh... yeah, peaceful," she answered absently, her attention on the direction her horse chose up the steady incline, then glanced back at her friend once he seemed comfortable. "When you're in the military, you're never really alone. Like yeah, I got an apartment on base when I was a little older and ranked higher, but it's still very communal. Deployed life is just tight quarters and no privacy. Much the same when I worked in Montana," she explained, "My condo isn't secluded or anything so it's not necessarily silent, but it's a lot more than I had for... shit, more than half of my life, actually."

"And sometimes you don't know the potential of how good something could taste until you try it and realized what you've been missing." This was about how romantic in words that Lorelai would get. And of course it had to do with food. Her face went to one of disgust at the mention of eggs in a powder form. "That can't be true. People can't actually like that. You're making it up." She felt certain about this, because even people with poor taste wouldn't go that low, right? She laughed again at August's lack of words. "I will take that noise to mean I was right."

"Oh sweetheart, there's so many things the military can do to fuck you up forever. Powdered eggs is the lesser of all those evils," she teased. August escaped with some brutal scars on her ribcage, a distaste for fireworks, and an almost-obsessive exercise regiment--a taste for powdered eggs was not among the things that remained with her upon retirement. Food was really her first sort of freedom upon retiring, and even the occasionally shitty meals the other ranch hands made on their days to cook were way better than the same-everything usually offered on base and in the field. Reconnecting with Lorelai when she returned to LA meant it was doubly pleasant in that regard.

lingering shreds of sentiment cease to dissipate while esme settled nearby her sister. granted, they didn't share the same blood, such candor failed to take away from elena being one of seldom few people who beared the privilege to witness the multifaceted perspectives esme often preferred to keep under wraps. no matter the passing of several years and different phases of womanhood having shaped both cavallaros into significantly different individuals, their shared ability to alchemize pain into persistence seamlessly magnetized the duo. discreetly perched at a table nestled between generous vineyards, no other time proved better than now to catch up.

Elena absently spun the stem of her wine glass between her fingers as she listened, smiling a little to herself at the idea of things changing so much but still remaining very much the same. "Yeah? What's been going on? The Arsenal doing alright?" Her work both for the Family as well as the PR firm afforded her access to all sorts of information, including rumblings that the low-key weapon shop was not all it appeared at the surface. That was all she knew, and if Esme wanted her to know, Elena figured she'd tell her eventually. Until then, not her business.