For once, Ciri didn't have to rush in the morning. Her meeting was postponed for tomorrow and she had some time to spare, which was an odd thing to say for someone like her who always seemed to be nose deep in work. As she woke up after a very steamy night spent with the other, and not finding them in her bed, Ciri took some time to check her emails on the phone and take a shower. But as she went to the kitchen to brew herself some coffee, she found them there, finishing preparing coffee and breakfast. "Well, isn't this very... domestic."she murmured and took a seat at the tall chair by the kitchen isle, watching them move around. "You didn't have to do that, you know?"Ciri pointed out as she pushed her long dark hair back.

An early riser would be generous. Eetu is prone to bouts of insomnia, and has a general distaste for sleep, which he finds is a waste of time despite being necessary. Five in the morning had found him in her kitchen, treating it as his own — and despite missing the familiarity of his stove and pans, it wasn't like she was living in squalor. Her place was nice, otherwise he wouldn't be there. It doesn't occur to him the implications of what he's doing, thinking only of feeding himself, and her by extension of being in her kitchen. Though he hears the shower, the gentle rustle of her footsteps and can't disagree with her comment. "It's like we're playing house. I, the affectionate, thoughtful husband, who all the other wives are jealous of. But you think I'm too nice. And you're probably cheating on me." In another life, he was a theatre kid. Eggs sizzle behind him, Moka pot on the burner. "I know." He bites back the urge to remind her that she doesn't have to remind him. He knows what this is. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Mierda-" the curse was muttered under her breath, hopefully out of the other's earshot. The cigarette in her hands was quickly (and clumsily) put out and shoved into an ashtray. It was probably no use since they'd already caught her smoking, knowing very well she shouldn't have been. Her body tensed uncomfortably against the railing of the balcony because she knew there wasn't an easy way out. "I thought I told you not to worry about me-" Catalina chose to simply act like nothing happened. Her body turned towards the view of the ocean, gaze fixated on the calm waves. It was easier to lie and bury her feelings when she didn't have to look directly at them. "I'm just sunbathing. Looking at the ocean. Reconnecting with the earth for once."

Catalina is probably the only person he could tolerate a vacation with. And neither of them are spending it how they should — Eetu, attached to his computer in a endless back and forth between a state attorney demanding disclosure he doesn't have and Catalina, well...He looks up from where he's sat at the dining table that faces the balcony. Something's off. He's not sure whether it's work or if she's still seeing that man he can't stand. They haven't had the time to talk. He's known her so long that sometimes it feels like he doesn't have to in order to understand her. But that's not true of anyone. He closes his laptop, joins her on the balcony. Let's her say what she needs to. "I'm not worried about you." He assures, and he means it, to a certain extent. She always comes out of it on the other side. "Hmm." He hums, looking to the ocean trying to see what she sees. Eetu doesn't like much of what nature has to offer, but the water's always been a friend to him. "We're really quite impressive. To be somewhere so beautiful and not know what to do with it."

myles snorts, the sound rough around the edges, and lets eetu push his chin wherever he wants without much resistance. most people only ever saw the TEMPER. the shouting. the fists. the scars. they never seemed particularly interested in the hours before that, with the fourteen-hour shifts, the missed meals, and the endless pursuit of getting every plate exactly right. funny, really, that eetu somehow managed to appreciate both. “you're a terrible influence, you know that?” he mutters, mouth twitching despite himself. the tape pulls lightly against his skin as eetu smooths it into place, and myles finds himself watching those CAREFUL hands for a second. everything about eetu is controlled where myles is all sharp corners and bad decisions. “and that's rich coming from the man who bills by the hour to professionally ruin people's lives.” the grin lingers a little longer this time. then the last comment lands, and some quieter part of him catches on it before he can stop it. i'd miss you dearly. simple, casual, and probably nothing. still, it settles somewhere uncomfortable beneath his ribs. “yeah?” he says, voice lower now, eyes flickering up to meet his for a beat. “good. somebody's gotta keep you from becoming completely insufferable.” a pause. “and for the record, i wasn't planning on getting shot tonight. kinda had brunch service tomorrow.”

"Am I?" His mouth quirks at that, momentarily delighted by the idea that he has any effect on Myles whatsoever. It's smothered just as quick. "No, I don't think so. I quite despite impressionable people. In fact, I much prefer a person who is loud and wrong than a sheep sucking on the udder of the masses." He nods, agreeing with himself. Stone-cold sober and still saying shit like that. Thankfully, Myles is neither wrong nor loud, at least not in the way that irks him. He imagines the tone he uses in the kitchen would be commanding and inherently demand respect, which he is moved by. He steps back to his admire his work, content with how clean it looks. Rips open a foil packet with an antiseptic wipe for his fingers. Eetu can't help but scoff at that assessment of his work, all bared teeth and grinning. "Murderers deserve a fair trial too." A cookie-cutter response. "Especially rich ones." And there it is. It's not hidden that a large part of it is the money. He enjoys his lifestyle, the clothes he wears, the cars he drives. Whatever Myles is feeling in this moment, Eetu probably feels the exact same. It's uncomfortable, the clench in his gut — almost like he can't breathe. But he'll be a man about it. Whatever that means. "Yes." He confirms, with as much steadiness in his voice that he can muster. Then he looks away, all out of bravado, focuses on the blood on his fingertips. "Is that it? You keep me grounded? My saviour." He quips dryly, but there's nothing but softness there. "You should take a day off." Impossible, probably, but he always tries it.

knox had been minding his own business, heading back into town with one hand resting on the steering wheel, when a figure sitting on the side of the road caught his attention. he drove past it at first, figuring it wasn't any of his business, but the image lingered in the back of his mind long enough for him to mutter a fucking hell under his breath and turn the truck around. gravel crunched beneath his tires as he pulled alongside the stranded vehicle, eyes flicking from the street to the other nearby. knox sat there for a second, weighing his choices before he rolls down the passenger window. "ya'all good?"

"Yeah, I'm fine thanks." Comes out as an immediate response, in order to shut down the stranger's knight in shining armour, Good Samaritan schtick that he doesn't have the tolerance for on a normal day, let alone now — when his beloved pocket-burning, gas guzzling Maserati won't start. When he doesn't hear the sound rev of an engine that would indicate the car speeding off, he looks up — prepared to give the stranger a get lost stare, before he realizes that the face is anything but. "What, are you stalking me?" Eetu asks, being an ass 'cos he can. Because they're not together anymore.

nari laughed before she could stop herself, the sound escaping sharp and surprised at the image he painted. "see? that's EXACTLY what worries me." her head tilted as she listened, though the more he talked, the more a picture began forming. not just of his preferences, but of the gaps between them; the places where people usually got themselves into trouble. "weekday dinners are yours, weekends are mine, lunches are prepped ahead, no microwave. easy." she made a note in the margin of her notebook, already thinking through cold noodle dishes, grain salads that improved after a day in the fridge, poached fish, marinated vegetables, things that could survive a schedule that sounded increasingly chaotic. then she glanced back up at him. "the espresso is less concerning than the FORGETTING." there was no judgment in it, only observation. she'd worked for enough obsessive people to recognize the type. the ones who treated hunger as an interruption until suddenly they were dizzy, irritable, and wondering why they felt awful. "the goal isn't just feeding you. it's making eating require so little effort that you stop giving yourself opportunities to skip it." her pen tapped once against the paper. "though if you're the kind of person who gets absorbed in work and ignores every reminder on their phone, i should probably know that now. it'll save us both time." a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "because i have a feeling you're either incredibly easy to feed or an absolute nightmare. i'm still figuring out which."

A polished chuckle. "I'm not a flight risk." Said with the assurance of a lawyer, which, if anyone's to know anything about lawyers at all — is a surface-level consolation. But for the most part, true: apart from when it's not, but Nari won't be privy to anything unbecoming if he can help it. Satisfied, he nods. He appreciates the no frills approach to planning, as much as he always has something to say, he trusts her implicitly. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here. Though there is something about this whole experience that makes him feel, cared for. The same way hookers do when he has the dough. His eyes narrow, mildly disgusted that this thought would even surface. Anyways. "Honestly, I do believe I have this sort of - reverence toward food that compels me to want to treat it with the dignity of, at the very least, taking the time to eat it without interruption of my work or anything else. Obviously, finding that time is difficult. Hence, forgetting." An intentional forgetting perhaps. Her tone is even-keeled, without judgment, but he feels magnified under inquiry. Though his skin looks good today, for once. "And if I am a nightmare? What then? How far do you go before you decide that it's not worth your time?" He rallies back at her. Eetu doesn't expect that he will be a nightmare, he'll certainly try not to be but he's curious.

Eetu scoffs. Rudely, though the rudeness isn't a concentrated missile directed at her. He's just has a tendency for rudeness. "Your mama get fucked over by lawyers or something? Or is she just an eat-the-rich type?"

nari’s mouth twitched at that; small, but GENUINE. thank god. macros. she’d spent enough time cooking for actors and athletes to know exactly the type of chef he meant — men who treated food like PUNISHMENT with garnish. “that sounds miserable,” she says lightly, leaning back against the counter as she studies him a little more carefully now. there was something intense about him she recognized immediately; not just someone rich looking for convenience, but someone who ACTUALLY cared. that was rarer than people thought. most employers wanted obedience dressed up as luxury. eetu, at least, sounded curious. “food should make your life EASIER, not smaller.” her fingers tapped once against the notebook before she flipped it open properly this time, pages full of ingredient pairings, wine stains, and scribbled thoughts at odd hours. “you’re probably busy, stressed, probably forget to eat until it becomes a problem; so i’d build around that FIRST. things you can manage in pieces. broths, smaller plates, dinners that don’t sit heavy if you’re working late.” a pause; then, a little drier, “and if you tell me you survive on espresso and spite, i’m legally ALLOWED to judge you.”

"It was. I wanted to blow my brains out in front of him." He states plainly. Eetu thinks the man would have noted the reduced body fat before noticing the bits of brain splattered over his shirt. Nodding, understanding. A breath to recalibrate, momentarily sent off-kilter by the mere thought of the previous dreadful conversation. Easier, he likes the sound of that. Eetu wants to make his life as frictionless as possible, so he can achieve everything he sets out to do. Wants to glide like a sharpened blade on fresh ice. "I enjoy cooking myself dinners on the weekdays, though I rarely ever eat at the same time. Lunches would need to be prepped, cold foods primarily as I don't like to re-heat things in the microwave." Less about the radiation, more about the germs. He'd rather not, if possible. "And you'd need to have availability on the weekends." Eetu lays out. His diet is far from well-rounded. Something something coke's an appetite suppressant. "Just espresso. Spite's bad for the nervous system. You're right though. I do admit I have the nasty habit of forgetting to eat."

for  a  cozy  starter .

[ BAR ]  :   for  your  muse  to  join  mine  at  a  bar  [ DINER ]  :  for  your  muse  to  join  mine  at  a  diner / restaurant   [ SAVE ] :  for  your  muse  to  step  in  to  save  my  muse  in  a  fight  [ FAKE ] :  for  your  muse  to  pretend  to  know  my  muse  in  public  to  save  them  from  a  difficult  encounter [ RUN ] :  for  your  muse  to  grab  my  muse’s  hand  and  tell  them  to  run  [ STEAL ]  :  for  your  muse  to  try  to  steal  from  my  muse  ( pickpocketing ,  in  their  home  etc  –  feel  free  to  specify  context ! ) [ STUDY ] :  for  your  muse  to  join  mine  to  study / read   [ PICNIC ] :  for  your  muse  to  join  mine  on  a  picnic  [ FIRST  DATE ] :  for  your  muse  to  meet  mine  for  a  first  date   [ BREAK  IN ] :  for  our  muses  to  break  in  somewhere  together  [ ATTACK ] :  for  your  muse  to  try  to  attack  mine  ( specify  context ! ) [ DANCE ] :  for  your  muse  to  invite  mine  to  dance  [ PAY ] :  for  your  muse  to  pay  for  my  muse’s  item(s)  ( specify  context ! ) [ TAXI ] :  for  our  muses  to  share  a  taxi  ride  somewhere [ CAR ] :  for  your  muse  to  jump  in  my  muse’s  car  and  tell  them  to  drive [ LOCKED  OUT ] :  for  your  muse  to  be  locked  out  of  their  apartment  &  to  ask  for  help  from  mine  [ DIY ] :  for  your  muse  to  ask  mine  for  help  with  diy  in  their  home  [ DARE ] :  for  your  muse  to  approach  mine  on  a  dare [ PATCH ] :  for  your  muse  to  help  mine  with  an  injury [ COMFORT ] :  for  your  muse  to  comfort  mine  [ SWIM ] :  for  your  muse  to  throw  mine  into  the  sea /  a  river /  pool  ( specify ! ) [ RESTRAINED ] :  for  our  muses  to  be  tied  up  together  [ CRY ]  :  for  your  muse  to  find  mine  crying   [ KIDNAP ] :  for  your  muse  to  kidnap  mine [ DRUNK ] :  for  your  muse  to  look  after  mine  while  drunk  [ ZOMBIE ] :  for  our  muses  to  be  caught  in  a  zombie  attack  together  [ TRAPPED ] :  for  our  muses  to  be  trapped  somewhere  together  ( stuck  in  a  storm ?  kidnapped  together ?  dodgy  lock  on  a  door ? )  [ WARN ] :  for  your  muse  to  warn  mine  of  incoming  danger [ COFFEE SHOP ] :  for  your  muse  to  join  mine  at  a  coffee  shop  /  café [ WORK ] :  for  your  muse  to  help  train  mine  on  the  first  day  of  their  job  [ ROOMMATES ] :   for  your  muse  to  be  my  muse’s  roommate  ( feel  free  to  specify  whether  in  a  college  or  a  regular  setting ! ) [ BOOKSHOP ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  in  a  bookshop  [ EVENT ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  at  a  charity  event   [ FUNDRAISING ] :  for  our  muses  to  team  up  to  raise  money  for  charity  ( feel  free  to  specify  potential  ideas ! ) [ COMPETITORS ] :  for  our  muses  to  be  rivals  in  a  competition  [ KARAOKE ] :  for  our  muses  to  sing  karaoke  together  [ MUTUAL  FRIEND ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  through  a  mutual  friend [ STOOD  UP ] :  for  your  muse  to  join  mine  on  a  date  after  noticing  that  they  have  been  stood  up [ MISSION ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  on  a  mission  [ UNDERCOVER ] :  for  your  muse  to  approach  mine  while  undercover [ MUSUEM ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  at  a  museum  [ ABANDONED ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  in  an  abandoned  building  [ STARGAZING ] :  for  our  muses  to  meet  while  stargazing  [ ROOFTOP ] :  for  your  muse  to  find  mine  on  a  rooftop 

secretary (2002)

myles laughs once under his breath, low and humorless, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek where it still tastes faintly METALLIC. “yeah. enough that the prep cooks had to drag me off him before i put his face through the fucking pass.” the words come easy, but there’s a pulse of anger still sitting ugly beneath his ribs; hot, alive, and REFUSING to settle. he tips his head back slightly while eetu works at the cut near his eyebrow, eyes narrowing toward the ceiling. “guy came into my kitchen already drunk off his ass, started screaming because his steak wasn’t cooked right. fine. happens.” a shrug pulls through him, careless DESPITE the blood staining the collar of his white tee. “then he grabbed one of my line cooks by the arm. kid’s nineteen.” that’s where his voice changes a little; flatter now, dangerous in a quieter way. “i told him to let go. he didn’t. so i bounced his head off the expo counter.” another crooked grin flickers across his mouth then, bruised and mean around the edges. “honestly? he got off EASY. you know how many hot pans are within arm’s reach back there?”

"Hot." He comments, not uncharacteristically. Always a little perverse with it, beyond the point of filtering it out having known Myles a little too long to keep up the pretences. Mostly, he likes him for his skill, and he likes to think that one doesn't exist without another, a perfect reduction doesn't come without the heat in curled fists, an open wound. Likes it. Likes watching him. He's meticulous with his care, makes extensive use of the first-aid kit. Is standing as Myles is sat on the barstool, like he's working on a sculpture, cotton swab dipped in rubbing alcohol swiping gently around the edges of the cut with careful precision. Blood doesn't bother him, although it more offends him to see the stained collar. He likes things in their right place. Blood on the body, not on the poly-cotton blend. "I do hate when good alcohol is wasted on undeserving people." Just because they're rich enough. There's a certain merit in having class. Eetu tilts Myles's chin back down, as he plucks the suture tape from the kit. Eetu's not quiet where Myles is. "Some people need to be taught a lesson." He says everything with so much assurance. Though Eetu doesn't get into fights, it doesn't make him a pacifist. He's just a coward. "You're so kind. You should kill them next time." He comments, like it's a normal thing to say. Then realizes it's not. "I'm only joking of course. Don't do that. Someone will bring a gun to a knife fight and I'd miss you dearly."

gabe's mouth fell open a little. "wow," he said, after a beat. "you really know how to make a guy feel special." he turned his gaze fully toward eetu, eyebrows raised high in manufactured disbelief. "not we value you as a person, period. no. we value you are a person because your emotional stability improves your point production." he tapped two fingers against his own chest. "i feel so seen. so cherished. is this how you talk to all the players, or am i just special?" there was a little more life to him now, even if the exhaustion still clung stubbornly under his eyes. the corner of his mouth pulled upward, unable to hide how much he was enjoying the conversation. at the mention of his agent, gabe gave a quiet, derisive snort. "my agent would tell me to stop talking to you without him present," he said. "something about me being a liability when left unsupervised with anyone who knows the salary cap better than i do. which, honestly, is everyone in front office." his knee was still moving when eetu mentioned the captaincy, though it slowed for half a second. gabe made a faint sound at the back of his throat and looked away, attention settling somewhere on the scuffed concrete across from him. "yeah," he said. "they don't tell you that part up front." gabe hadn't wanted the c, truthfully. but it had been easy to accept, easy to do what was expected of him. before they'd stitched it to his jersey, it had felt like an honor, like maybe he could be the kind of person worth following. it felt different on nights like this. heavier. "everyone tells you what it means when you win. that you're setting the tone or you're the heart of the team or whatever," he continued, quieter now. "no one really tells you that, when you lose, you start thinking it means something about you too." the words were left there between them. gabe immediately reached for his hoodie strings, winding it around two fingers and then unwinding it again. he cleared his throat. it's not, though. a fluke. i think you know that. gabe stared at the string in his hands. "yeah," he said, eventually. "probably." he wasn't sure he did know it. not tonight. but there was something weirdly calming about how eetu hadn't tried to build some inspiring speech around it. gabe swallowed and glanced up again. "anyway, i'm sure you don't get paid to listen to the players' problems." then, eetu asked about the bus. gabe's expression changed just slightly -- guilty enough to be incriminating before he even opened his mouth. "technically," he started. "i was going to go back on the bus." he lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. "and then i told everyone i need to shower and do some media thing and not to wait for me." his mouth flattened. "which was a lie. but in my defense, sitting alone in the hotel staring at the mini bar felt really bleak in the moment." he looked down the empty hallway, as if some teammate might materialize there and tell him the bus hadn't left and save him from admitting that he had been actively avoiding going back at all. "so. no. i currently do not have a ride. unless we're counting the uber i haven't called yet." the offer seemed to land a second late. gabe turned his head slowly, looking at eetu with open suspicion that didn't disguise the faint, unexpected warmth beneath it. "you're offering me a ride? voluntarily?" he asked, squinting. "i feel like this is how guys get tricked into waiving their no-movement clause." his knee finally stilled, not because he noticed it, but because he shifted forward to plant both feet on the ground. he rested his forearms over his thighs and exhaled through his nose, rubbing his hands together once. "sure, i'll take the ride," he said. "i think that's probably enough not spiraling on the floor for one night."

"Have a little faith, Gabe! We're entirely off the record." Pleased by his acceptance, he nods. "Grab your stuff and we'll get going then."

“ now  –––  you want to talk about it now? it’s–– ” rowena scoffs, looking away. “ it’s been ten years. what use is there in talking about it? ” eyes narrow, briefly flicking back up toward his face. rowena takes a few steps back, head shaking slowly as she does. feels her phone vibrate in her hand  –––  likely her sister attempting to call her back after being rudely cut off a moment ago. yet she finds it hard to look away from eetu ; like he’s some horror from the past she isn’t sure is real. “ look : whatever misplaced sense of guilt you’ve somehow conjured in the last ten years about it… don’t worry about it, alright? go back in and shoot your shot, or whatever. ” lips twitch upward in sad amusement. “ if being attached to me didn’t stop you before, i doubt whoever that guy was can stand in your way now. ”

He thinks of the woman waiting inside with a probably husband. Rowena’s former best friend, the woman he’d slept with. He doesn’t think what she’s saying is untrue. That if he wanted, he could waltz back in there, steal her away, prey on her probably-husband’s insecurities, go for a drink, take her home. There’s something rotten inside of him. “Can we go to Diane’s?” He asks, the diner they always went to after school to do their homework when he didn’t have practice. “Do you still like milkshakes?” He tries, then after a beat. “Please?” 

gabe blinked at him. then, despite himself, a startled laugh punched its way out of his chest -- sharp and genuine enough that it echoed faintly down the empty hallway. "holy shit," he said, turning his head to look at eetu properly. "you are stone cold." there was something almost offended in the way he said it, but his mouth had pulled into a grin before he could really sell it. his knee kept bouncing; it apparently hadn't got the memo that he was pretending he was fine now. "not even a moment of hesitation. no, 'don't say things like that'. no, 'the org values you as a both an athlete and a person'. just straight to the cap benefits." he pressed a hand dramatically to his chest. "i'm gonna remember that during contract negotiations, you know. emotional damages. hostile workplace." a beat. "i don't know. you're the lawyer, tell me which one will get me the most money." the joke hung there for a second, then gabe glanced down at his fingers in his lap where there were idly worrying the hem of his hoodie. "thirty-seven," he repeated, letting out a quiet whistle. "jesus. don't that out loud. i'm still recovering from people calling me a veteran." he tipped his head back against the wall again, eyes drifting towards the ceiling. "i think three billion might be fair. i'm very charming. great locker room presence. and i come with free public relations crises." another small smile, although it didn't last quite as long this time. "neutral mindset," he echoed, like he was testing out the phrase on his tongue. "sounds fake. healthy, probably. but fake." he swallowed once and rubbed the heel of his palm against his knee as though that might finally force it still. "i'm great at the not getting complacent part," he said after a moment had passed. "elite at that, actually. top of the league in telling myself that every good play i've ever made was a fluke." he attempted a smile after that, because it was too honest without one. because he didn't really know why he'd said it at all, except that the other hadn't looked at him like he was something fragile. like one bad game had turned him into something everyone needed to tiptoe around. gabe glanced at him sideways again. "so what do the contract guys with the neutral mindsets do when the player in question is being extremely normal on the floor of an arena hallway?" he asked. "do you guys have, like, a protocol? a clause? or do you just stand there in your murder suit and insult him until he develops emotional resilience or whatever?"

There is no protocol, no clause. “To support you, I suppose.” It’s not in the job description, but there is a familial element to any franchise. He does feel, in some part, protective of the franchise, which is to say, the players on the team. “You’re not going back to the hotel on the team bus?” He asks, because he assumes it’s already left by now. “I’m more than happy to give you a ride if you need. Or if you’d like to continue to not spiral on the floor here, that’s fine too.” 

He sighs, puts a hand on his hip. "i'm so civil right now. you're the one acting like an asshole who's never interacted with another human being before, damn! you're worse than the cats!"

He considers this. Sometimes he feels as though he's not of this world. But that could just be because he reads too many fantasy books and takes too much coke. Gotta get off the sauce. "Now you're being rude." He points out.

gabe stared at him for a second after the introduction, like he was trying to place him somewhere outside the context of spreadsheets and signatures and whatever conversations agents had behind closed doors. then his face shifted with recognition. "oh," he said. "shit, yeah, i know who you are." automatically, he sat up a little straighter, dragging a hand through his still-damp hair. there was something deeply mortifying about a front office guy catching him sitting on the floor outside of the locker room looking like he was one missed shot away from a full-blown existential crisis. "that probably would be less embarrassing if you said you were, like, a serial killer or something." he paused. "actually, scratch that too. that's worse." he huffed out a laugh at himself and let his head thunk lightly back against the wall again. his knee bounced restlessly where it was pulled up against his chest. "contracts guy, huh?" he raised an eyebrow. "so you're one of the people who gets to decide if i ruin the salary cap for the next decade." gabe always found it easier to joke than to sit too long in the silence. easier than the game still playing behind his eyes in ugly little clips. he glanced over again. properly this time. the other didn't really look uncomfortable, which gabe appreciated. most people either got weirdly intense around him after losses or treated him so gently that it made him want to scream. "you don't seem too devastated," gabe observed. "which is either very reassuring or super concerning." his mouth twitched gently. "everyone else keeps looking at me like they're expecting me to walk directly into the hudson river."

His eyes narrow, mouth tipped up into a wry smile. "It would free up cap space."