#* ayaz

Isla found no need to linger on the first floor, she knew that would never be a place that Ayaz called her to. Rather the pit that existed below. The somehow sterile and equally as bloodied interior of the underground always felt a little like home to her. It reminded her of every scar left behind by a knife or bullet wound and the haphazard antiseptic used to patch her up; the smell alone warmed her from the inside out. "If he's ordered me chocolate milk, best you add a couple shots to it," she stated rather bluntly to the man who'd delivered two glasses right to the booth Ayaz had made himself home in. "You're still paying, right? If you're not paying, my uber is on the way and you're shit outta' luck for a partner in crime. I don't ask for much." Oh, but she did - from him, she absolutely did. If only to further dig herself beneath his skin until he cracked. "Whats this all about?"

It'd taken a few minutes for Isla to work up the courage to storm as mercilessly through the doors to the hospital as she had all the way there in the first place. Any effort to lie low had been cast out the window when she'd heard about Ayaz and even after allowing a few days for the heat to die down, there was no mistaking the rage that burnt beneath her skin. Enough to keep the nurse attempting to keep her from his room from pushing a little too far. Even if Isla didn't look like the relative she so readily claimed to be - the smell of antiseptic stinking horrible nostalgic at the inside of her nose and though it'd been expected - the sight of him in the hospital bed caught something in the thick of her chest that made her pause. Images flashed, brief snippets that taste bitter as she remembers waking up in her own hospital bed; cuffed to the frame with security guards blocking her door. No one in or out, except the doctors, nurses - and arresting officers. "Your friends are all gone, miss hunt." Gone. Dead. Vehicular manslaughter. Assault with a deadly weapon. B and E... Gone. Gone. Gone. But there he was, hues catching her own as she shoved her way through erratic thoughts and found herself back in the present. "Seriously, all this family only bullshit.... - as if I'm not the spitting image of my big brother." She almost laughed - almost. Laughter felt as if it held no place here, not while her chest felt so tight and uncomfortable. None of it mattered though, Isla had needed to see him. To confirm with her own eyes that he was alive, that she wasn't about to lose someone else to this burning city. "You look good... I think this is an improvement."

"You owe me a twelve thousand, you know that right? A date worth twelve thousand or cold hard cash."

"So you get emancipated squidward and I get... well, I might as well still be behind bars at this rate," it's stated with a dire and unfulfilling sigh as she pours out a shot each for the pair of them, "I think it's fair to say we're not exactly the favorites." Though, all things considered, on the back end of him being shot, Isla almost preferred his paired match. Like hell she'd ever voice it though.

"So this is how the other half is living," a flicker of the tent lapel makes a quiet rustle beneath her fingertips, the area that stretched out before the rich tent wasn't so gaudy that Isla couldn't see the benefits. The glitz and glamour of everything was nice, and the blonde would be hard pressed to say she didn't love such a world, but at the heart of it - she was little more than a street rat, plucked from the dirt and taught to wear the glitz as a distraction from everything else she knew. "Not bad, even if your company is a little... greasy."