* 𝖉𝖊𝖊𝖕 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘂𝗮𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻 .

 Helena   had   been   trying   to   re-insert   herself   in   the   dating   game.   Hell,   even   her   daughter,   who   happened   to   be   nine,   told   her   it   was   okay   to   find   someone.   In   her   own   way,   of   course.   There   was   some   laughing,   some   crying,   but   in   the   end,   it   was   still   cute.   So,   that’s   why   she   was   sitting   by   the   bar,   indulging   in   some   of   the   most   boring   conversation   ever.   ❝   I   provide   very   important   and   educational   lifestyle   advice.   ❞   She   repeated,   now   to   the   bartender   when   her   date   went   to   the   restroom.   ❝   Either   shoot   me   in   the   face   or   bury   them   in   the   bathroom,   I   beg   you.   ❞   Still,   there   was   humor   in   her   tone.   ❝   If   I   change   seats   do   you   think   they’ll   find   me?   More   importantly,   will   you   still   be   mixing   my   drinks?   Because   I   like   your   style.   ❞

the dating game is never anything to laugh about — so true tried not to snort during the last bout of boring conversation. they purse their lips as her date heads towards the bathroom, eyes wide in that hm, really can't believe this has lasted this long expression, though slanting the mixer towards their hands. "I'll be in charge of your drinks, honey, don't you worry. i got a nice stall in the bathroom where they don't gotta come out if you say the word." a laugh, a snort really, drawing true to cover their mouth briefly. neutral-dark lip gloss shining in the half-dark. they do not envy her. keeping friendships is hard enough. "i think they got radar on you, and you got that nice hair and good jacket. they'll be on you 'til you call it off. i like messy shit, sooo ... you wanna get me in on it, i'm down to boogey." for now, they start on mixing her next drink. for the sour occasion, they go mojito.

as sienna took a sip of her wine, she kept her eyes glued to the screen of her phone. the headlines all were reporting on the arrest of one daniella st. james. she had heard about the events of the festivities from tommy but had still been in new york city at the time. none of them disclosed who was representing her. or who the city would be assigning the case to. but what she really needed to find out was how others reacted to this development. did they believe she had done it? questions were racing in her mind when another joined her in the open seat next to her. " were you at the festival? "

true clicks their tongue against the roof of their mouth. popped open the bottle of pale ale and sloshing it about before slow-pouring it into the chilled glass. in a peripheral-glare, they watch her as she scrolls her phone, and someone else joins in the seat beside her, and their eyes narrow further. like shit, you just gotta be suspicious of everybody these days, otherwise you pay the price. "might've been. somebody had to serve cold ass drinks in this heat and i can name less then, uh, five people who'll do that." it could be as smooth as a lie, or it could be the truth ( how can someone with a name like that ever lie anyways? ) "but i'm guessin' you weren't. probably for the best." now that would always be the truth and it didn't matter who you stood for or against.