leo thorn

Welcome to my funeral Please take a seat Right here lies the body of the b**** I used to be She was crying every night, I sacrificed her in her sleep If she didn't get to Heaven then I hope she rests in peace (yeah)

Look at me now It's the second coming, baby, watch out None of that boy shit weighing me down More than money on my mind, middle finger to the sky like

straight out of Phoenix like (Wow) it's lady Jesus She took a nosedive off the Hollywood sign But she's back, she bad, yeah, better believe it (Wow) she got 'em kneeling like (Wow) it's lady Jesus She's speeding down the 5 'cause she already died Yeah, she's back, she bad, yeah, better believe it

Rose from the coffin, now I'm a prophet Water to vodka and I'm walking on it Didn't have to go that hard, Sunset Boulevard You would be so blessed if I broke your heart (yeah)

LeoxAtticus

Leo gets off on annoying the shit out of Atticus with no repercussions. He's the one person in their circle that Atticus has no leverage over. Leo Thorn came from a rich family within the social realm the Winters know, abandoned it to make his own fortune and even changed his name along with it, excluding him from the lethal touch Atticus can be known for when someone doesn't fall in line. Since Leo doesn't rely on anything to do with Prometheus, where the Winters' power hub is, it's probably the weird attraction for Atticus, who is so used to getting his way and keeping power. With Leo challenging every move intentionally to piss him off, their relationship certainly is built on compounded frustration with both of them winding up going back and forth on top.

You might think it's toxic, but it's in the spirit of competition and challenge for Atticus (even if it can cross a line sometimes) and simple amusement for Leo.

“i’ll get the bat signal ready.” she smirks, although it’s a serious enough offer, she doesn’t exactly think that she’s going to be calling on it. this was the new world after all, where they both sat at corporate parties, there on their own merits. there’s nowhere to go, certainly nothing she really wants to go back to. “until then, i’m good.”

they’ve been friends long enough for her to spot elaborate act over the truth. sure it was a change of pace, something that she’d decided for herself without announcing it— a rapid departure from groupie by day, singer by night. but she needed it, had to try it and see. “i’m just trying something new. when they write biographies about me i want to throw people for a loop.” skip out on the chapters about overdoses and psychiatric care, keep it on the up and up. “aren’t you going to toast to my maturity?”

"I'm Iron Man," he needles with a straight face. "You can call me. You know, with this fucking new gadget." A hand from his pocket pulls out the iPhone, the cracks on the back showing its age, those that aren't covered up by the grinning lion sticker on the case. It winds up on the counter, half-tossed. What does it have to lose at this point? He gives her another glance at, taking her 'good' with a roll of the eyes, but an eventual nod to join it.

"Sorry, all I heard was funeral, what are we toasting to again?" Leo's hand is already tipping his drink to his lips, taking the sip sans any words of good grace. "What're you really doing there? They blackmail you into this shit or what? I know you. Shit doesn't add up."

“you can buy the first round.” which will buy her just enough time to ask if the company tab is under mitchell or pulitzer or pbs, or if this is a strict no drinking on the clock party, as she’d been warned would happen from time to time. it’d been easy to agree to all the little terms, assuming that there would be work arounds eventually. she hadn’t expected the eventually part to happen quite so soon, but that was fine. it couldn’t be bad anyways.

“too late.” she sighs, the heartbreak wearing through every syllable, shaking her head slowly at the loss of such a precious piece of herself. as though every nine to five was paired with some kind of soul-sucking behavior. they’d wound up at the same party, hadn’t they. “they wore black robes and everything, just like you always warned me.” her pout dissolves into a smile, as though it ever threatened to stick around. “what’s wrong with pbs? got an issue with small business?”

"Your loss. I was going for the whole tab, but I'll take first round." The shots are placed in front of them, one each. Leo's fingers fall on it about as soon as it's found a home on the bartop, but it's not raised yet, attention tracked back to his friend. "Say the word, and I'll break you out. You fucking know that, right?" It's not a joke, and the way the blue eyes are centered on her tells her that it'd be tonight's fun to tell them she quits. They soon roll, nearly to the back of his head, when she gives him the defining detail.

"Fuck... That's who you soldout to?" He might not know Orion Mitchell, but he does know a network, even when he wishes he didn't right now. "Tal, come on. The hell are you doing there?" Fucking waste. "Which one's the boss again? I'll get you fired. Time me."

“mr. delaney does well with his own numbers.” she doesn’t always keep track of individual contracts, but there’s something to be said for a conflict of interest within this department. she expects the best from her team, they deliver without her needed to harp on the possibilities of cancelling a father for spite. 

“i don’t deal in gossip.” there was nothing to be gained from whispering in the shadows, half-truths and outright lies were acid on the tongue. she had a reputation that could not be corroded by anymore suspicion, and she would not sabotage anyone who worked as hard as chloe did. but she has certain provable facts about the given topic. “you noticed the amount of time she’s spent with axel reeves of late.” clearly not enough to come by the office when other plans had been made, but she doesn’t deal in the will that has been done. “i believe it’s to do with her research. though we can’t discuss that in office much.”

"Aw, c'mon. We're friends... Marge?" Squinting eyes ease as his hand finds her name plate, raising it up as if the answer is its own reward before it gets clunked back down atop the desk. "Mary was my second guess." No, calling bullshit was the next bet, but this does just fine. Besides, he's got nothing against her to jump immediately to impoliteness. While she's dishing, he's listening. It's just not with the type of intrigue she might be used to. "What research? The point shit? Why? It's not like this place fucking takes any of that seriously. Don't you just kill people because you're bored?"

“i don’t take shots.” half her attempt at push back, half truth, mixed together for the exact wrong combination to accomplish anything. she didn’t shoot, shotgun, chug, or swig. she sipped from carefully ordered drinks, a decision that she made now before it could even be offered with any hint of seriousness. “but i can get you the information of the keg company. fits your party themes better than mine.”

"Got me there." He lets her have it. It does fit his parties more than it does hers. "You have to have people show up to need one, so. Fuck that, right?" His smirk is victorious, not malicious. From another's mouth it could draw blood, but he has no need for a sacrifice or slaughter. "Joking. Your boss lady told me how popular you are. More in a To Catch a Predator way but it's something."

“always disappointing…leading travelers astray…you get my confusion.” she nods, as though they’re discussing facts and not exchanging playground insults. it’s easy to say, she hardly has to think when it comes to talking to leo. they match beat for beat, she pauses while he orders, picks up with his question, adjusts the collar of her shirt as though it’s going to make the outfit look more professional that it already is. 

“that one.” she tips her head in the direction of where the pbs employees seem to be circulating. they all tend to congregate and wait to see which of the family members will grace the team with their presence. she’s still too new to know the difference, or maybe they just all are equally uncomfortable to be around. “orion mitchell, heir-in-law.” something like that, who knows. “think i could do better?”

"Led on by thirst, always hot, hell yeah," he tacks on with an understanding squint of the eyes, game of checkers with words, pieces jumping over each other from either side. "Lucky you, I'm real tonight," he goes on with a turn of his head, "unless you've got a company card to buy this shit on." An added gesture is given to the bartender, rounding up hers on the tab that's just opened up. Tequila for two.

The real interest is where the job is coming from, and who it's coming from. He tracks her vision, falling on the suits and pencil skirts jammed in a corner. He nearly gags. There's nausea in the blue eyes that look back at her. "Say sike right now." Not that Orion Mitchell fires off any braincells, but any one of them is enough for him to get the impression he needed. "Is it too late to get your soul back or did they already eat it?"

“i knew that was you i saw.” her voice trips up an octave has he hugs her, as though the sheer enthusiasm of the gesture has been enough to squeeze the breath from her. and it always is— what a familiar face in a sea of glitz can do for the stranded. “i’m just here for the conversation.” she leaned against the bar, immediately more casual than she had been moments before, as though a bubble has descended around them, professionalism forgotten in the face of friendship. “no— boss asked me.”

"What? You thought I was a fucking mirage? I get that." He gives her the passing shrug, the smug half-smile that's reserved for good friends. He has a small handful, kept it that way on purpose he's found out, and she's been missing for longer than he meant. Nothing a drink can't solve while she leans in and he turns to order a round for them both. There's something she says that he hasn't heard come up before, a four-letter word that's long forbidden and makes him eye her better. "So that’s why you look like that?" Katie's eye would be better here. All he can say are vague descriptions like 'buttoned' and 'stainless.' But there's a definite difference. "Who's the boss? A funeral director?"

@leoxthorn​

“well they just let anyone in here.” she says by way of greeting, smile on her face betraying anything other than fondness for the man that found her at the bar waiting for a drink. as though it wasn’t an event that they had both been invited to, she’d been allowed the guest list. one of those perks of knowing staff in the industry these days. “or did you get lost on the way to the studio superstar?”

It's been a minute, but he knows that voice. That pitch-perfect ear has never betrayed him, especially with the sound of someone that can belt out Bohemian Rhapsody after half a bottle of Tito's, a friend if he ever knew one. "Shit. Sorry I don't do autographs. Catch me on onlyfans." But that smirk is wide, as wide as his arms are held out only to pick her up in a hug before her feet are back on the ground. "The fuck are you doing here?"

she can only roll her eyes, the kind of quick dismissal that means she’s annoyed— but simply can’t come up with anything better to say than you’re right. banter still needs notes. the right comment will come far later down the line, leaving her with the same annoyance all over again. 

“no.” the idea leaves her already nauseated and embarrassed. it sounded like exactly the kind of situation her father would end up in, which could only mean one thing for her. it was to be avoided at all costs. she was not a delaney, that legal technicality keeping her from whatever immediate associations could have been formulating in the popular conscious. but she supposed leo’s was the only one that mattered right now. “i can control myself.”

"No shit." The word elongates itself just enough to stretch it into the edge better known as sarcasm, a type of verbal taffy that's sweeter to taste than it is to swallow. "How'd you find that out? Did someone rig up a fucking Capri Sun keg for you to try? You're lucky to still be alive." Kids, right? They come up with the darndest shit. His expression to her spells out the sentiment. "Hit me up when you take your first tequila shot."

“never.” what the amount would be and who would pay it are the questions that flare up in her mind, but she’s not in finance— there’s no point in going down that route. besides, he’s clearly moved on from it by the way that he’s looking at her now. leo’s expressions aren’t nuanced exactly, that doesn’t mean that she knows the exact meaning of them, but she’s pretty sure this one approximates to dropping the topic. or that she’s said something she shouldn’t have, they can get confused.

“you’re not right.” because if it’s something that people can grow out of, then that means she’s grown out of it. if it was ever there at all. she’s not going to argue the specifics of something that she doesn’t even have to prove to him. she can drink the shake, and that will be more than enough— evidence winning out at the end of the day. “i’m not going to puke, i’ll be fine.” exasperation builds in her tone as she tries to figure out what the next witty thing she’s supposed to say is. the conversation is meant to be sharp jabs back and forth, and she’s failing her end quickly. “i don’t think it’d be because of the allergy anyways.”

"Nice to hear that you'll puke for better reasons." Lactose intolerance versus nerves, what would he rather? Tough call. "Looking forward to my studio smelling like a fucking Coachella portalet." The weed is his contribution, but the rest will be on her to get that kind of air to it.

"Have you ever drank so much that you fucking hurled?" he wondered, the tilting of the head highlighting his curiosity like a psychiatrist attempting to unriddle his patient. "Routine questioning."

“of course.” playing along with the ruse would require more effort than she’s willing to give the intrusion, but that isn’t to say that it’s not noted. there are people who are more experienced than leo thorn who will keep an eye on the delaneys. loyalty, she supposes, is still valued by a precious few around here. there are no checks to give, there are no employees in the room. “i will keep my professional interests in check.” 

she watched him continue to integrate himself into the room, the shake without a coaster, the conversation that’s found a way to continue because chloe still has not returned, and he has chosen not to leave. “you consider her annie?” she’s not sure that there’s anything to be gained by this conversation, but she supposes there’s nothing to lose just yet either. she’s trying to be a better conversationalist, a better hostess— traits that lie in this back and forth banter that she finds herself practicing. “she’s not exactly been orphaned.”

Did he consider her Annie? I mean, for this whole metaphor thing to work, he guesses so! His shrug conveys all that and more, and what isn't translated in casual movements, he has set on his tongue, ready to spring out. "Yeah, you haven't even knocked off Myles, so good for you guys," he tells her with a twisting nod, more pointed towards the department than anything else. What he knows about Chloe's mom, he's going to leave that be for now. They've gotten off track anyways.

"But what's this deal with Axe?" He watches Mary for a minute. If any part of the conversation thus far has been any indicator, there's not going to be a clear-cut answer that's scheduled to come out. "Might as well tell me. We're gossip girls, now."

“should there be something to know about mr. delaney?” she didn’t often keep track of the gossip that flowed through her department. there were plenty of conversations had every day by and about contracts that might change the amount of oversight she needed to give one. but it was always up to someone else to tell her, she found it to be more fair. but chloe’s father hadn’t crossed her desk in her entire tenure with the department, it was an achievement for him. 

“no.” she didn’t entertain the notion that leo thorn knew more than she did about the situation at large. he seemed to be only well versed in matters musical, which did not align with anything. she looked up from her desktop to the door, finally doing him the courtesy of prioritizing him. “i believe she’s simply a friend of the reeves.” 

"That's weird. Sounds a whole lot like your fucking department." Prometheus didn't have a hold on him unlike the rest of everyone else here, whether they wanted to admit to being a part of the cult or not. He had nothing to say about Myles, not to her. "Nice try, but I still don't see my check. Sorry, boss."

The churro shake was put up on her desk, ring of condensation and all, better sitting up there than in his hand. Might as well keep it there if he was going to spend a minute listening to what he was hearing for the first time. The Reeves name struck out to him particularly, taking him aback as if the idea produced recoil in his brain. Half incredulous, half hilarious. "Nah, I’m going to have to ask him to shave his head if he’s going to pull off Daddy Warbucks.”

she has no particular affinity for sebastian steele. she much preferred the bosses who came before him, ones who were passionate about the department, filtering in the passion for work where there was a void. but she could not emulate what wasn’t there, and she had no wish to overstay a welcome. still, there was no reason for her to continue the insult in a place that was still neutral ground. “a loss for the company.” 

the continuation of the conversation intrigued her, studying the figure that didn’t leave her door but instead lingered, continuing the question. “i believe she’s been detained.” lunches had such potential to run over their allotted time with the conversation was important, at least to one party. and chloe, for all her intelligence, still had faith in an assortment of people. “of course, i don’t personally approve of connections with journalists, it can get messy.”

"Yeah, boo fucking hoo." Leo has had his fun with the idea of working for the department, but now they need to buckle down, get to the point of this show before the shake turns into milk froth. It just doesn't go exactly to plan, twisting his head at the answer.

"Detained?" What the fuck does that even mean? Before he gets the chance to spill his thoughts, though, the boss gets an extra say. It doesn't clear up anything, but it gives him just enough to be hooked, pulled in like a trout towards her desk. "Which journalist?" Because now he's curious, has the narrowed eyes to prove it as he plops into her chair, taking over the space like an invited guest instead of someone who's barged in. "Someone get dirt on Myles or what?"

she doesn’t immediately react to the person who’s appeared in her door way. she’s learned that the best way to handle such intrusion is to pretend as though it had not happened at all. naturally her eyes would have to eventually make a journey to the door, and indeed they did. “mr. thorn.” her voice is unamused, her expression equally neutral as she takes in the objects he’s holding. 

“i’m afraid i don’t know who you’re referring to.” the description of course conjures to mind one of her analysts, but she would never describe the younger girl in such impolite terms. and she doesn’t intended to start on the whims of a musician. “i hadn’t realized we hired you onto this department.”

"You have that many out here? That's gotta be fucking confusing." He's leaning against the doorframe now, glancing at the shake as though half-tempted to just take it over as his own instead of waiting for Chloe to show her face. He decides against it, eyes swaying back to Mary as she goes on, talking about his employment opportunities. "Damn. You were shit out of luck," he replies back without a beat in between, dripping faster than the condensation that's outside the spun icecream. "My application was fucking tight. It was a picture of me flipping off your goth overlord." The doorframe is lifted off of, stepping inside her office. "It's cool. I'll just show up to start my shift on Monday."

And this has all been fun and everything, but... "Seriously, though, is Chloe around or what?"

“you’re the most consistant.” another day, another jab at her age. as though there was anything wrong with maturity, especially when it paired with all of the other tasks she wanted to complete in a given day. in a given week, depending on the distractions that went into returning home every night. “do you want a medal?”

she’s not sure if the implication is that she doesn’t eat at places cool enough to have a secret menu, or if she’s eating at places too high class. she doesn’t know which is supposed to be the funny part, there is not right answer that comes to mind while she tries to solve out the sentence. “i prefer almond milk.” she says finally, because that’s the only sentence that really has an answer she can give out. “but i don’t think del taco is the type to do custom orders.” besides whatever went into a churro shake. she supposed she would find out. “you know most kids grow out of a dairy allergy anyways. it’s more common than you think.”

"Is there a cash prize instead?" He doesn't even have to try when he's with Chloe. It's like a batting cage, done without breaking a sweat, one remark after another. She nearly has him hit with a curve ball when she fires up her best against the latest jab. There's no doubting the expression that floods his face when he looks at her, the questioning slant that it's all built on.

"Is this your way of telling me I'm right without actually telling me I'm right? You should let me know now so you don't puke in my studio later."