𝔎𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔔𝔲𝔢𝔢𝔫.

finn had convinced himself he was way over bar brawls by now; but with the whiskey in his system, combined with an ill temper & the rush from simply punching someone in the face repeatedly proved him otherwise. the o’shea was also reminded just how far he was willing to go when suddenly a few people finally broke up the fight & he took a good look at the other person. wiping the blood of his nose and now bruised knuckles as well as he could, finn walked right back into the bar, sitting down and litting himself a cigarette. sliding a hand into his pocket, the man realized his wallet was long gone by now. with a silent curse uttered under his breath, finnagán turned to the person sitting next to him. “ you feelin’ generous tonight? i could really use another scotch right now. “ 

Perched on the edge of the stool, one limb crossed over the other, Monika’s sapphires turned toward the male. Quickly flicking her gaze over his features, the blonde was tilting her head to one side. With a hum of feigned contemplation emitting from her throat, carmine lips curved into a subtle simper. “Well now, that depends,” she began, manicured fingertips drumming against the surface of the bar top. “Say I get you a drink, out of what little kindness I have left in my stone-cold heart,” she paused for a beat, vibrant hues trained on the features of the man's face. “What do I get in return? Or do you usually go around hitting up strangers, expecting a gesture of goodwill?” Quirking a defined brow at the other, a grin threatened to split her lips.

THE PINT. Small. Unassuming. There were no frills in this bar. Nothing to capture your eye from the street to draw you in. But Elias liked it that way. The atmosphere spoke for itself, and there were libations for every palate. Those who were looking for something more exciting would have to take themselves uptown. “I’ll make it easy for you. I don’t have a blender, so if you’re looking for something fruity and mushy… You’re in the wrong place.” Elias leaned against the counter, elbow pressed gently into the weathered oak bartop.

It truly was a rare occasion to spy Monika Adler settled upon one of the stools lining The Pint's bar. Normally the blonde opted for a more... animated surrounding. Yet tonight, here she was, vivid blues scanning the quaint interior. The sound of the male's voice suddenly pierced Monika's attention, sapphires moving to settle upon the man stood behind the bar. Taking a second, bright hues swept his face before her cherry lips lifted, an amused expression claiming her features. “Lucky for you, I'm not a fruity, mushy kinda girl,” she quipped, a soft grin splitting her lips. “As for being in the wrong place, I fear I might concur.” Allowing a gentle laugh to tumble past her mouth, Monika leaned forward ever so slightly. “However,” she began, the pitch of her voice dropping a fraction. “I am curious. What can you make me? Minus a blender, of course.” Her tone was laced with lighthearted jest, a faint smirk etching itself into the corner of her mouth.

A lift of her lips reflected amusement when she caught sight of the petite blonde at her left — though never did it reach her eyes. Not when such a putrid taste lingered in the back of her throat. The smirk was only to piss off the blonde as she wanted it to be completely obvious that she wasn’t affected by the bark. Because that’s all she felt Monika was — a lot of bark and little bite. 

“It was just a curtesy,” the brunette commenced as she took the seat and shrugged her jacket off. “I wasn’t actually going to take into account what you wanted from me, darling.” A snort escaped as she waved the bartender over. “You’re all by yourself? I can’t say I’m all too surprised.” She said nonchalantly, only pausing to order herself a gin and tonic. “Hopefully you’ll get bored with your own presence and call it a night soon.”

Vibrant blues were rolling in their sockets as the blonde smothered the urge to groan in annoyance. Was having a drink in peace without being interrupted by witless people really too much to ask for? Bringing her gaze back to the brunette, Monika's cherry mouth was curving into a feigned smile of sweetness. “Of course it was,” she remarked, flippantly. “Because you're all heart, aren't you?” Her sapphires glided over the woman taking residence next to her, pursing her lips in contemplation. “Oh please, you aren't exactly one to judge. You're on your tod, too. Unless you've brought Casper the friendly ghost along?” A defined brow was arching, an amused expression crossing Monika's features. 

Slender digits were curling around the tumbler as Monika eyed the other. Taking a long sip of the vodka tonic, the blonde narrowed her eyes over the rim of the glass. Setting her drink upon the bar top with an audible clink, the edge of Monika's mouth twitched with amusement. “Surely you know by now, I'm not the type who backs down,” she stated, matter-of-factly, throwing the brunette a challenging glance. “Not to get childish but I was here first. So, either move along and spare me the agony of your company. Or, stay put and keep the noise to a minimum. Your voice alone is enough to give even a paracetamol a headache.”

Erin couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that coursed through her even hours after willing a rather extensive case in court. While she’d kept herself in check for the most part, apart from a brief squeal in her car, she was ready for a drink. As the brunette entered the bar, she couldn’t help but notice the hues of those she brushed shoulders with on most days. Most of which were O’Shea’s who she’d defended and kept out of prison. With brief smiles exchanged, the brunette moved to an empty seat at the bar. However, she paused beside it to peer over at the patron. “Is this seat taken?”

The beauty of floating through neutral territory was that nobody could stake their claim to the turf; that it was fair game for anybody who set foot on the streets. The downside of this, however, was bumping into people you'd rather not have to exchange feigned pleasantries with. Monika had been sat at the end of the bar for quite some time now, engaging in meaningless conversations with strangers, discussing topics that, quite frankly, bored her to death.

The instant the familiar voice pierced her ears, the blonde resisted the urge to pinch herself and roll her eyes at the same time. Surely the lawyer stood at her side had failed to recognise who she was addressing. That was the only plausible explanation Monika could think of because there was no way the brunette would actively want to sit in her company. Hell would have to freeze over before that would happen. Still, Monika's sapphires were lifting to settle upon Erin, a defined brow rising in question. “If I say yes will you do me the favour of pissing off?”

It’s hilarious to him when he thinks about how their connection started. A one night stand all those years ago, and now well she’s a capo with him as her boss. They ironed out the awkwardness of it years ago before he got married even. Oliver respected her in the sense she knew what she wanted, and really him asking if she was sure was only just his own lame ass making a joke. His eyes are on her and the drinks she’s pouring back like she’s a fresh teen with a fake ID at a dive bar. He’s fairly concerned with how this could end, but he knew she would take care of any loose ends that might endanger them as a whole. “Oh, trying to take me away from saving kittens? Tsk Moni.”  He laughed and double checked the watch on his wrist for the time. “Well, why not? I’m only part time anyway and the next shit change is in a few hours.” Recklessness wasn’t his cup of tea, but he thought… why the hell not?

Thinking back to their initial encounter, a heavy sense of amusement washed over the blonde. How times had changed. All Oliver had been back then, all those years ago, was a one night stand. It had never dared cross Monika's mind that she would wind up back in his life, under his rule. But life has a funny way of bringing people together. At first, the uneasiness they shared had been staggering though, after a while, they managed to muster up the courage necessary to straighten things out. Now, here they were, sat in a club; nothing but amiability and ease between them. In a way, Monika was grateful she'd bumped into Oliver all those years ago. She had been a fresh face around the city and even for one night together, he provided her with the distraction she'd long searched for. These days, she was grateful for his guidance and his friendship, for welcoming her into the family and giving her a place to belong. It was funny, for a foster kid from New York City, not once did Monika believe she would ever find a place she felt content, never mind find a bunch of people she could really, truly call a family.

Wrapping slender digits around her glass, Monika's sapphires were on Oliver; a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “I'm sure there's plenty more of your men able to rescue kitty cats, is there not?” Her tone was laced with jest as she took a sip of her drink. “You can save kittens to your heart's content later. Right now, you're having a drink with me,” she stated, scarlet lips breaking into a grin. Monika knew full well that Oliver had never been the type to abandon his duties. Over the years, she'd tried ( but often failed ) to coax the man into throwing all caution to the wind so the stab of victory she felt swell inside her at his compliance was well overdue. “So, what'll it be? Choose your poison, boss man. I'm buying, no arguments.”

          a  child  weaned  on  poison  considers  harm  a  comfort   —–    isn’t  that  what  stella  had  read  ?  the  phrase  struck  a  bit  too  close  to  home,  mentally  referring  back  to  it  every  time  her  instinct  to  run  started  to  rear  its  ugly  head.  chicago  is  starting  to  feel  dangerously  small,  and  if  she  doesn’t  do  SOMETHING,  the  songstress  is  liable  to  self  destruct  at  moment’s  notice.  skyfall  felt  too  familiar,  too  suffocating,  enclosed  quarters  where  the  usuals  would  hound  her  for  a  private  show  …  no,  she  needed  to  dissolve  into  oblivion,  and  what  better  place  than  a  club  where  nobody  knows  you  ?

  stella’s  already  indulged  in  some  pretty  white  powder  in  the  bathroom,  dabbing  at  her  nose  as  she  traipses  into  the  revelry   —–   she  can  feel  the  burn  in  her  lungs,  a  signal  that  her  mischief  is  only  just  beginning.  two  shots  down  at  the  bar,  and  she’s  not  looking  to  slow  down  anytime  soon.  chicago  knows  the  cool,  collected  songbird  that  speaks  in  riddles  and  leaves  lipstick  kisses  on  the  collar  of  their  button  downs.  tonight  ?  that  image  ceases  to  exist.  she  wants  to  erupt,  dynamite  jolting  through  her  veins.  and  it  seems  a  familiar  blonde  with  a  wickedly  delicious  smirk  harbors  similar  prospects. 

 “  —–  so  long  as  you  don’t  go  soft  on  me,  sugar,  ”  comes  her  purring  response,  accentuated  by  another  round  of  shots  lofted  towards  them   —–   one  of  the  drinks  proffered  towards  the  svelte  blonde.  “  i’ve  heard  some  tricky  rumors  about  you.  word  on  the  street  is  that  you’re  quite  a  bit  of  trouble.  ”  with  that,  stella  knocks  her  glass  against  monika’s  and  offers  a  coy  wink,  “  let’s  hope  every  word  of  it  is  true.  ”

These days it required copious amounts of alcohol to get Monika anywhere close to inebriated. Though presently, she was rather buzzed; feeding off of the electric energy pulsating around her, vibrating within her body and pumping adrenaline through her bloodstream. There has always been an element of the blonde that yearned for an escape. As far as she can recall, she'd always longed to crawl out of her skin and into anybody else's; the desire to exist outside the realm of her own reality almost overwhelming. A few shots of the strongest liquor or a snort of snowy white powder usually did the trick, allowing the female to slink out of her inhibitions and lose herself for the night. Monika had never been one to see the sense behind holding back in life. What was the point in being alive if you only ever played it safe? Sure, the blonde had her regrets, likewise, she had her vices but nobody could say Monika Adler played life safe. The female would sooner die than have people say she shied away from any of the dangers life held.

The brunette's words had the smirk broadening across Monika's lips. “I wouldn't dream of it, doll,” she responded, cherry lips splitting into a grin. Stella had always been one of the rare souls that managed to capture Monika's interest. The blonde respected the songstress, admired her in the way that only another woman could. The brunette's lack of consideration for the opinions of others, most especially men, was a characteristic Monika appreciated. In some ways, she could see herself in the other female and although she'd never spent too much time in Stella's company, Monika had the slightest of inklings the pair would get on like a house on fire. Extending a willowy appendage, blood-red tipped fingers slid around the shot glass the other offered. “Oh, you have, have you?” The blonde gazed at the woman perched next to her, azure eyes narrowing with a hum of reflection echoing inside her throat. “I hope they've painted the most wicked pictures of me,” she remarked, a devilish smirk curling at the edge of her mouth.

With a soft laugh tumbling from her lips, Monika reciprocated the action; clinking her glass against Stella's. “Well, you only have the entire night to decide if you concur with these rumours or not.” Her sapphires shone with the glimmering promise that she intended to meet the expectations that had been placed upon her. Though, already, Monika had the sneaking suspicion that her current company might just be a little bit of hurricane herself. Her head was falling back then, downing the contents of her glass before discarding it. Swallowing against the burn that slid the length of her throat, Monika's attention was back to Stella. “Can you believe we've yet to wreak any havoc together? What a crime that is.”

Oliver wasn’t one to normally visit either of the clubs. He just didn’t see the point when he was trying to get back his son. Except this day, some nutcase had started a fire in one of the dressing rooms. He had came in and smothered the flames out, but decided to stay a bit longer. The uniform hid the eldest Faust well from gang activities that is. The voice was familiar that caused him to turn and look towards Monika. 

A devious smirk pulls the corners of his lips upward. “Well, I wouldn’t mind keeping you company, Moni.” Oliver answered as he looked around at the other lot that was around the bar. The provocative siren had been singing for awhile on stage, and he had to admit it set the scene. He lifts his brows upwards to look her up and down. “But are you sure me? My break ends soon.” 

When the uniformed man turned his eyes toward her, Monika's carmine mouth curled into a slow smirk. “Of course, you wouldn't,” she teased, the quip accompanied by a flash of a grin. Oliver was her boss, someone she deeply respected and admired for an abundance of reasons. More importantly, he was one of the very few men she actually wholeheartedly trusted. Leaning forward, the blonde lifted her slender limbs to cross them on top of the bar; an amused smile dancing across her features. “Well,” she began, her head tilting to one side, “I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure.” Firing Oliver a smile, Monika unfolded her arms to grasp onto her glass. Her oceanic hues settled upon the male, a playful pout of disappointment claiming her lips. “Now that's a crying shame if ever I've heard one.” Finishing her drink, a graceful wave of her hand had the bartender placing another before her. “Does the idea of sacking off fire fighting for the rest of the night not appeal to you?”