#(conversations.)

location— gym / boxing ring

The low rumble of Nyx’s engine echoed off the concrete walls as Elena rolled to a stop outside the gym, the bike’s purr fading as she killed the ignition. The night air was thick, heavy with the promise of rain that hadn’t come, and for a moment she stayed seated, gloved hands resting on the handlebars, watching the glow of fluorescent lights spill from the open bay doors.

She hadn’t planned on coming back. Not tonight. But after a day packed with work calls, paperwork that wouldn’t end, and juggling everything at home—still picking up the slack her siblings kept leaving—she’d needed an outlet. So here she was. And if she carried any of that weight, she wasn’t showing it. Not tonight.

Swinging her leg off the bike, Elena tugged off her helmet, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. This time she came ready—no stiff leather jacket, no boots too heavy for the mats. Just fitted joggers, a faded tee that clung from the humid ride over, and wraps already snug around her hands. Intentional. Comfortable.

Inside, the rhythmic thud of fists on a heavy bag filled the space, steady and familiar. She exhaled slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she stepped in, boots soft on worn mats.

Her gaze found him immediately. Focused. That same intensity she’d caught before—the one that had made her pause, made her walk out last time before she let herself get drawn in.

Not tonight.

She drifted toward the ring, arms draping casually over the ropes, watching him with that easy, steady calm she did so well. Then her voice cut through the space, light and edged with a hint of challenge.

“Tell me you’re not too tired to spar.”

Andrea: You were just cordially invited to my family's Thanksgiving diner by my aunts. 'Dating' or not. You made quite an impression on them and they miss you.

It’s quiet in the hallway, an unnerving quiet after the accusations that filled the air only a few hours ago, maybe it’s just the calm before the storm, or maybe everyone under this roof is all too familiar with the idea that that fingers could be pointed at you at any given moment. Who was he to question anything when he had been an unsuspected traitor to Famine only a few months ago? Climbing up the stairs to the third floor slowly, there is a hesitation in his step as he gets closer towards Room 11. Omer was no longer the brother that Rafael would seek refuge in at the times he needed most, and yet, despite everything that happened between the two, a part of Omer knew that this was where he was supposed to be tonight. A perfectly made grilled cheese in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, Omer pushed the already ajar door slightly, tapping on the wooden frame with his foot to grab Rafael’s attention.

“Can I come in?”

A few days away from London with Monica and Iniya was exactly what Mitzi needed, a break from everything and everyone, to enjoy nothing but sunshine and relax. Despite the chaos back at home within the gangs, specifically within Pestilence, she had started to feel as if all her days slowly were blending. She followed the same routine, the labs, gang work, spy work, home, repeat, Mitzi almost forgot what it was like to take a day to herself. It was safe to say the last few days she had made up for all the overtime. 

“So Monica is fast asleep, do you think it was all the dancing or the bubbles in the champagne that knocked her out?” she asks, an easy laugh filling the space as she looks over at Iniya, taking a sip of her drink. They were an interesting trio, a fun one, and Mitzi knew the risks of spending as much time with them as she did now that she was a spy within the ranks, but her friendship with both of them had started long before she had even joined Pestilence. Mitzi trusted them and this holiday was exactly what the doctor had ordered, from lounging under the sun to belly laughs and flirting with attractive people, it was the escape they all needed. However trust and friendship were not enough in their world, and Mitzi was fully aware that if she had to choose them between War then she would pick War. But those were thoughts she would put aside tonight. Tonight was about enjoying the last night of her holiday with her friend. “Do we have to go back tomorrow? Do you think they would notice if we just stayed?” she teased.  “Are you going to call that guy from the bar?” she grins, making herself comfortable on the bed next to Iniya. “He was fit, definitely way better looking than the one from the beach club yesterday, there will be headlines after we leave about you. Iniya Basnet - breaking hearts of men all over Portugal.”