salt&static

Asena only shook her head, the motion slow and thoroughly unconvinced. “Antonio, I’ve known you far too long for that one to work.” Her fingers continued their lazy path through his dark hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as she settled deeper into the couch. Most people missed it. Antonio hid himself well. He had spent years building walls around every emotion he considered dangerous. But dislike? Real dislike? That one always slipped through the cracks. A tightening jaw. A look that lingered a second too long. The particular way his shoulders stiffened when something got under his skin. Asena had become fluent in those tells years ago. She smiled to herself as he shut the laptop. There was something deeply satisfying about catching him in a lie he knew she could see through. As he shifted closer, she gently guided his head toward her lap without a word, letting him settle there while she continued stroking his hair. “You’re being mean,” she informed him lightly when he dismissed Kiana’s contribution. “Kiana is perfectly lovely. This isn’t her fault. If you’re looking for someone to blame, my father is the mastermind.” Her brow lifted slightly. “Besides, you know exactly how this works. Voters like happy couples. They like stability. It’s politics.” His hand on her thigh earned him a look. Not an annoyed one. A knowing one. The kind that said she understood exactly what he was doing. Possessive man. The thought was so familiar it barely registered anymore. “Things that belong to you?” she echoed, unable to stop the faint smirk that tugged at her mouth. There it was. The real complaint. Not campaign strategy. Not optics. Not Kiana. Just jealousy. Asena’s fingers slipped from his hair to trace lightly along his temple before returning to her task. “You know, most people would be embarrassed admitting something like that.” Her tone was teasing, warm. If anything, she seemed pleased by the confession. The truth was she was. It was childish. Petty, even. But after everything between them, there was something gratifying about seeing evidence that he still cared enough to be bothered. “And yes,” she admitted shamelessly, meeting his gaze. “I do enjoy this far too much.” Her smile widened slightly. “You become much easier to read when you’re jealous.”

antonio rolled his eyes at that. he did not bother arguing. there was no point. asena had known him too long, seen too much, and frankly, antonio valued his time more than wasting it on a lie neither of them believed. instead, he studied her for a moment from where his head rested against her lap, expression thoughtful in a way that was almost suspicious. “you’re defending her rather enthusiastically,” he observed. “i’m beginning to think you actually like her.” there was no real accusation behind it. more curiosity than anything else. his hand remained where it rested against her thigh, thumb moving once absentmindedly against the fabric as he considered her explanation. logically, he understood every reason behind the arrangement. politically, it was effective. strategically, it made sense. emotionally, however, antonio had never claimed to be particularly reasonable where asena was concerned. “your father remains irritating,” he decided after a moment, as though that settled the matter entirely.

iMessage: Antonio

"still, the miltary and law enforcement in geenral still requires a lot of discipline, training, the whole nine yards," savannah replied. she was generally impressed with zahir's work history and she was trying to make that known in their conversation. "me? fuck, i just was anti-social and a nerd most of my life .... made school my main goal and priority," she shrugged her shoulders simply at the statement. when she was a teenager, she felt like that was the only thing she had. a perfect distraction from her loud thoughts of her past and chaotic family trauma that she hadn't truly processed at that age. taking a breath, she nodded her head in agreement as the man briefly spoke about his time in the system and how difficult it was for anyone who was in it. "it's kind of sad knowing that we missed so many .... life accomplishments during those years. but, at least we can catch up on lost time," she stated. " .... thank you. i guess i've just heard crazier shit come out of people's mouth, you too - right?"

zahir lets out a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head as he leans back in his chair. "yeah, that's the funny part. if you'd met me in high school, i don't think 'west point' would've been anybody's first guess." there's a warmth in his voice now, easier than before. "i was a brat. got into trouble more than i should've. not serious trouble, but enough that i kept a few teachers employed." his mouth twitches into a grin. "so hearing you were the anti-social nerd and i was the troublemaker kinda makes me feel like we ended up exactly where we were supposed to." he drums his fingers lightly against his coffee cup before nodding at her comment about lost time. that part hits a little closer to home than he lets on. "i think everybody's got things they wish they'd gotten to experience differently. doesn't mean you stop living once you realize it." his gaze lifts back to her, steady and genuine. "and yeah, i've definitely heard crazier. comes with the badge. after a while, somebody telling me they found their long lost sister in the same town isn't even in the top ten weirdest conversations i've had." a small pause follows before he adds dryly, "honestly, this one's been pretty normal by rift valley standards."

listen to me, zahir had instructed, and romy anchored herself into place to do just that. she was in a fragile place, but not the kind of person who could be persuaded on that alone. she trusted that he knew what to do. what was best—and not just by way of how things looked or sounded. truly, what was best. she trusted his judgement and guidance and there was something in that release, in knowing that he was looking out for her right then, that allowed her to loosen up just a bit. even if his following up you're not a suspect with right now had made her already racing heart palpitate.

zahir doesn’t leave her side once. not during the statement, not during the followup questions, not when another officer gently repeats something she’s already answered twice because procedure demanded it. he stays nearby, arms folded across his chest, occasionally catching her eye and giving the smallest nod whenever she starts looking overwhelmed. he knows exactly how this works. he knows how easy it is for witnesses to feel like evidence instead of people. and god, romy was just a kid as far as he was concerned, no matter how old she actually was. she never should’ve been standing in an alley at four in the morning giving a statement about a murder scene. when the officers finally release her, he watches the exhaustion settle over her like a physical weight. the adrenaline was burning off now. the second she asks if he can drive her home, his expression softens immediately. “yeah,” he says quietly, like there was never going to be another answer. “of course i can.” he steps closer, resting a hand briefly against her shoulder. “i’ve got you.”

starter:   yasemin   &   antonio santoro   [   @saltandstatic   ] setting:   antonio's   office   ;   late afternoon

antonio looked up from the paperwork spread across his desk the moment he heard the knock, dark eyes lifting immediately toward the doorway before softening slightly at the sight of yasemin stepping inside. for a moment, the exhaustion sitting behind his expression became more visible. not weak, never that, but worn in a way he rarely allowed people to see. “yasemin,” he greeted evenly, the corner of his mouth pulling upward faintly at the old nickname slipping so naturally from her tongue. toni. it gave him pause in a way few things did these days. antonio had never been fond of nicknames. they implied familiarity he did not often permit, but hers had always lingered without irritating him. perhaps because it belonged to a version of himself that had existed before everything became responsibility and funerals and people waiting to see him crack open under pressure. when she hugged him, he allowed it without hesitation, one arm wrapping around her briefly in return before he stepped back again. his gaze dropped toward the cactus she placed on his desk then and a quiet breath almost resembling amusement escaped him through his nose. “a cactus,” he repeated dryly, studying the small plant for a second longer. “that’s either thoughtful or deeply insulting. i haven’t decided which yet.” there was the faintest flicker of life in his tone now. subtle, but there. antonio reached out eventually, adjusting the cactus slightly so it sat straighter amongst the chaos of paperwork covering his desk. unlike the papers, the cactus looked absurdly calm. “thank you,” he said after a moment, quieter now but entirely genuine. his eyes lifted back toward her carefully then, observant as always, taking in the concern she was trying to soften around the edges. “you being here is enough,” antonio admitted finally. “most people come into this office lately looking for reassurance that i’m still standing.” a faint pause followed before he leaned back slightly in his chair, composed once more even if the grief still lingered heavily beneath the surface. “you, at least, had the decency to bring a plant instead.”

location: asena's apartment

antonio did not look away from the photograph immediately, which in itself said enough. his eyes remained fixed on the image of asena and kianna standing together beneath soft lighting like they belonged there in the exact way political strategists loved. antonio understood the game well enough to recognize why it worked. appearances mattered. they always had. he had spent most of his adult life mastering that truth himself. rationally, he knew the arrangement made sense. emotionally, it scraped against something ugly and possessive inside him anyway. his jaw flexed once as his thumb dragged idly against the edge of the laptop, gaze lingering a second too long on the hand resting against asena’s waist in the photograph. he could already hear the kind of comments people would make when they saw it. what a beautiful couple. how natural they looked together. how good this would be for her campaign. irritatingly, they would not be wrong. antonio finally leaned back slightly against the couch at her teasing, exhaling once through his nose as her fingers continued moving through his hair in that familiar way that always seemed to pull tension from him whether he wanted it to or not. “jealous?” he repeated calmly, though the slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed him almost immediately. “hardly.” a lie delivered with enough confidence that most people would accept it. unfortunately for him, asena knew him too well. his gaze flicked back toward the screen once more before finally shutting the laptop with a soft click. “though i will admit,” he continued evenly, resting the computer aside now so he could turn his attention fully toward her, “the two of you do make an attractive couple.” his hand settled instinctively against her thigh as he spoke, fingers sliding slowly higher with quiet ownership woven naturally into the gesture. “you’re carrying most of the operation yourself, of course.” dry humor colored the words faintly, but the irritation beneath them still lingered. antonio’s eyes moved over her face carefully after that. “i dislike strangers placing their hands on things that belong to me,” he admitted finally, voice quieter now but no less controlled. there it was. the real issue beneath all the political reasoning and rational thought. possession. attachment. the dangerous inability he seemed to have when it came to her specifically. and perhaps the worst part was that four months ago he had convinced himself ending their arrangement had been necessary. now he sat in her apartment again at nearly midnight while she touched him like she always had, foolish. antonio’s hand tightened slightly against her leg before easing again as he looked at her properly this time, expression calmer than the emotion underneath warranted. “you enjoy this far too much,” he murmured, though there was no real bite behind it. only resignation wrapped in affection. because she was pleased by his jealousy. he could feel it.

piercing through her cloud of lack-of-sleep-induced exhaustion and dread was a sense for how unique a situation this must've been for antonio. how, maybe, revealing. true, she'd never really seen him in what she imagined to be his usual state for herself, but she'd heard things. things from foe, family, and friend (were co-mobbies also friends?) alike. snippets, like brief flashbacks in a black and white film. notorious, lofty, quick-cut. in a situation where there was truly nothing to be happy about, she was at least fascinated in bearing witness to an antonio she'd quickly come to pity.

antonio did not interrupt her once. not while she spoke about the alley. not while she described the silence. not while she carefully walked him through the way josephina had been left there. he simply listened, elbows resting against his knees at first, one hand covering his mouth while his dark eyes stayed fixed on romy with unnerving intensity. but the more details she gave him, the more something in him visibly began to splinter. because none of it made sense. not fully. not in the neat way his mind desperately wanted it to. he knew the rift riders had something to do with this somehow. they had to. too much blood had been spilled lately for it not to circle back to them eventually. miles dead. daisy reynolds dead. josephina taken and murdered. yet every angle he tried to force together in his head kept collapsing into contradiction. by the time romy described the knife left behind and josephina crumpled against the wall, antonio’s grip tightened hard enough around the whiskey glass in his hand that the crystal cracked audibly. the sharp sound split through the suite before silence swallowed it again. antonio stared down at the fractured glass for a moment like he had not realized what he’d done before abruptly standing to his feet. “no,” he muttered under his breath, pacing immediately. “no, that doesn’t…” one hand dragged through his hair roughly while the other still held the damaged glass carelessly at his side. his movements lacked their usual precision now. grief making him sloppy in ways he hated. “if this was retaliation, it’s messy,” he said more to himself than to romy. “too messy.” his jaw flexed hard. “the riders don’t gain anything from dumping her body there unless they wanted her found quickly, but then why leave her hidden halfway into the alley?” another turn across the room. “and the knife.” his voice sharpened suddenly. “why leave the fucking knife?” the words cracked louder this time, frustration ricocheting off the walls. because antonio could usually see the shape of violence before anyone else could. motive. strategy. consequence. but this? this felt wrong in his hands. like trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. he stopped pacing only long enough to slam the cracked whiskey glass down onto the nearby bar cart hard enough to rattle the bottles there. “someone wants us looking at each other,” he muttered darkly. “and i don’t know if that’s because one side truly did this or because someone wants a war badly enough to manufacture one.” his breathing had gone uneven now though he clearly fought to steady it. then romy mentioned josephina’s eyes being open and something in antonio physically faltered. his shoulders stiffened hard beneath his suit jacket before he turned away from her completely, one hand braced against the edge of the desk. “she hated dark alleys,” he said suddenly, voice rougher now. quieter too. dangerous in an entirely different way. “when she was younger she used to call me to walk her to her car after parties because she swore someone was always hiding somewhere.” a humorless breath escaped him then. “i used to tease her for it.” silence stretched after that before antonio’s head dipped briefly, fingers tightening against the desk edge hard enough his knuckles whitened. irrational thoughts kept clawing at him now. that he should have seen this coming. that he should have protected her better. that somewhere between being a brother and being a don he had failed at both. when he finally looked back at romy, there was something raw sitting behind his eyes now. not weakness exactly. but the visible strain of a man trying very hard not to come apart in front of someone tied to a family he did not trust.

zahir studies seojun for a second longer than most people probably would, though outwardly he keeps the interaction loose and forgettable. he catches the implication easily enough beneath the man’s calm tone. another time. not here. not now. smart. honestly, zahir respected that more than he liked admitting. too many outside agencies came into places like rift valley swinging their weight around without understanding how quickly people here noticed strangers acting strange. seojun, at least, knew how to move quietly. “nothing urgent,” zahir replies evenly, hands still tucked into the pockets of his jacket as if this conversation means absolutely nothing at all. “just figured i’d remind you this town notices patterns faster than people think.” the statement lands casual on the surface, but deliberate underneath. not a threat. not even really a warning. more like professional courtesy between two men who recognized the same game being played from opposite sides of the table. his gaze flicks briefly toward the direction seojun had been heading before returning to him again. “and for what it’s worth,” he adds dryly, mouth twitching faintly at one corner, “you’re a little too calm to pass for a normal local.”

starter:   jia   &   zahir   cole   [   @saltandstatic   ] setting:   jia's   place   ;   an   evening   on   the   weekend

zahir stares at the finish him screen like the game personally betrayed him, thumb still hovering over the controller buttons he’d clearly pressed too late. “nah, that fatality absolutely should’ve worked,” he mutters, narrowing his eyes at the television before looking over at jia with immediate suspicion. “you’re cheating somehow. don’t know how yet, but i’ll figure it out.” there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the accusation, easier than most people ever got from him these days. he takes the beer from her with a quiet thanks, leaning back deeper into the bean bag. honestly, nights like this reminded him too much of being younger. before the badge, before the distance that settled between him and half the people he grew up with the second he chose law enforcement over the club. he’d known becoming a cop would change things. still hurt anyway when people started looking at him differently after. like loyalty suddenly had conditions attached to it. jia ending up tangled with the feds only complicated it further, both of them technically working opposite sides of the same ugly machine now. “and for the record,” he adds after taking a sip, voice dry, “cop life didn’t make me bad at mortal kombat. i’m just tired.” at the question of what’s on his mind, though, some of the humor fades around the edges. not fully gone, just quieter now. because of course it was the case. lately it was always the case. zahir exhales slowly through his nose, eyes drifting back toward the paused game screen for a second before speaking. “town feels off,” he admits finally, voice lower now, more thoughtful. “like everybody’s waiting for something worse to happen.” his fingers tighten briefly around the neck of the bottle before relaxing again. “the murders, josephina, the masquerade… none of it’s lining up clean.” and that bothered him more than he could explain. messes usually made sense eventually. this one kept spreading instead. he glances back toward jia after a moment, observant in that quiet way he always was around people he trusted. “you ever get the feeling everybody knows pieces of something, but nobody’s actually saying the important part out loud?” there’s no interrogation in it, not really. just exhaustion mixed with instinct. then, because he can feel himself slipping too far into detective mode again, he shakes his head lightly and nudges her shoulder with his own. “but i’m not ruining mortal kombat night talking about work.” a pause. “even if you are a filthy button masher.”

Scout went quieter for a second after he admitted he didn’t actually think Grayson did it, the cigarette pausing halfway to her lips while she studied him more carefully beneath the neon wash of Peach Pit’s sign. Relief hit first, ugly and immediate, but she buried it fast under another scoff because she refused to look soft in front of anybody, especially cops. “Well, congratulations,” she muttered, smoke slipping from her mouth afterward. “You officially have better instincts than half this town.” Her brother was reckless, arrogant, angry, self-destructive on a level that made Scout want to strangle him most days, but murder still sat wrong in her chest no matter how hard she tried to act unaffected. Grayson fought loud. Loved loud too. Nothing about any of this felt right. Still, the second Zahir brought up Josephina, Scout’s posture shifted instinctively more defensive, eyes narrowing slightly while she looked out toward the street instead of directly at him. “Josephina?” she repeated with a sharp laugh that held more bitterness than humor. “Yeah, I knew her.” The words came clipped at first before years of resentment started spilling out faster than she probably intended. “She was spoiled, selfish, dramatic as hell. Whole world revolved around her all the time and everybody just let it happen because she was pretty and sad about it.” Scout rolled her eyes hard, but there was something messy underneath the anger because Josephina had once braided her hair, snuck into her room late at night, held her when she cried after Grayson disappeared. Nothing with that family had ever been simple. “People acted like she was some tragic princess or whatever, but half the problems around here started because nobody in that family knows how to leave each other the hell alone.” Her gum snapped loudly after that, like she was trying to punctuate the end of the rant before she accidentally wandered into honesty.

zahir listens without interrupting, which honestly was harder than it looked considering how much useful information she was accidentally giving him between the bitterness and sarcasm. his expression stays steady while she talks about josephina, but internally he’s filing pieces away one by one. not facts exactly... more texture. emotion. history. small town dynamics always mattered in cases like this because people here loved hard and hated harder. and the wilders and santoros had been tangled together for years in ways nobody fully escaped cleanly. scout’s resentment toward josephina doesn’t surprise him, but neither does the grief buried underneath it. that’s the thing about this town lately: everybody mourning each other while pretending they aren’t. when she finally catches herself and points the cigarette at him accusingly, he actually smiles a little, slow and reluctant like she caught him fair and square. “alright,” he says calmly, holding one hand up in surrender. “that one’s on me.” there’s a quiet warmth in his voice despite the subject matter, something disarmingly genuine. “i wasn’t trying to jam you up, scout.” and he means it. if he wanted to interrogate her formally, they both knew it’d look very different than this. his gaze drifts briefly toward the club entrance before returning to her. “honestly, most of what you said lines up with what i already knew anyway. small town gossip fills in a lot of blanks whether i ask for it or not.” he pauses for a second, thoughtful now. “but hearing it from somebody who actually lived around it matters more than rumors do.”

"damn, west point and the nypd? that's quite the resume you got there zahir, i think it might be even better than mine," she remarked, attempting at cracking a joke here and there to cut any of the awkwardness of the more serious subject matter. it wasn't ever exactly easy to discuss the complicated history of the greco siblings. it was laced with tragedy and tension, despite all four of them being in the same town now. shaking her head, she agreed with the man's statement. "no, it was ... hard. the system can get a little lonely and confusing as a kid," she admitted simply, not wanting to dwell too deeply on the past before being adopted. "well, if i considered you a complete and total prick, i don't think we'd be having a conversation at all right now," sav glanced out the window of the cafe for a moment before collecting her next thoughts. "i'm still very much trying to get to know my sister all over again, i can't say it's been easy. but, i'm not totally opposed to getting to know the other important people in her life, including you."

zahir lets out a quiet huff of amusement at her comment, shaking his head lightly like he’s already uncomfortable with the idea of his life sounding impressive out loud. “honestly, i kinda lucked into most of it,” he says, tone grounded and sincere in that way that makes it hard to tell if he fully believes his own accomplishments matter all that much. “had a high school advisor who pushed west point hard after i started doing decent in school. figured i’d try it.” his shoulders lift slightly in an understated shrug. “then after my second tour, a buddy recommended nypd and i stuck with it.” he says it plainly, leaving out the harder details in between. the reasons structure appealed to him so much, the years spent trying to make himself useful enough to justify staying anywhere. after a brief pause, he adds more quietly, “i was in the system too.” the admission comes easy but brief, like he’s offering understanding rather than turning the conversation toward himself. “so i get some of it. at least enough to know it doesn’t leave people untouched.” his gaze stays steady on her, compassionate without turning pitying. he knew enough about foster care to understand how much separation could carve into people, especially siblings. he couldn’t imagine finally finding them again after nearly two decades and trying to figure out where to even begin. the mood stays light enough though, and he’s grateful for that. he didn’t come here to pry open old wounds. he just wanted to know the people who mattered to thalia. a faint smile pulls at the corner of his mouth when savannah admits she wouldn’t be talking to him if she thought he was a prick. “good to know i passed the initial screening,” he replies dryly, fingers tapping once against the coffee cup in front of him. then his expression softens again, quieter this time. “for what it’s worth, i don’t think there’s a right way to reconnect with somebody after that much time.” his eyes flick briefly toward the window before returning to her. “seventeen years is a long time to miss pieces of somebody’s life.” there’s no judgment in the statement, only understanding. “but she’s really happy you’re here.” and that part, at least, he knows for certain. he leans back slightly after a moment, easing the heaviness before it settles too deep between them. “besides,” he adds with a small grin, “you’re already handling this better than most people handle finding out a detective’s dating their sister.”