#darryl threads.

he hadn’t told anyone who he was coming to meet tonight. all he had done was arrange for dylan to be with marla for the evening, made sure there were no loose ends pulling him in another direction, and then headed out toward the buoy like it was just another stop in a long list of obligations that never really stayed simple for long. by the time he arrived, the place was already deep into its evening rhythm, music spilling over the deck, laughter and conversation blending into one steady hum, the ocean just beyond it all rolling in like it had nothing to do with any of it. darryl found a quieter edge of the bar and settled in there, a beer set in front of him, untouched for the first few minutes as he just watched the room.

it wasn’t until he felt the shift in movement that he spotted who he’d been here for in the first place. as antonio approached, darryl stood steady as ever. “glad ye could make it,” he said evenly and calmly. he held the moment just long enough for it to settle between them, no rush to fill the space, no need to overwork what was already understood about the weight of what brought them here. then, after a minute had passed, he eased back into his seat again, posture still composed, gaze steady on antonio as the noise of the buoy carried on around them.

he let out a quiet breath through his nose, eyes flicking briefly down toward the table before returning to antonio. “josephina,” he said after a beat, voice lower now, more measured than before. there was no attempt to soften what couldn’t be softened. “i am sorry for your loss.” he let the words sit there rather than follow them up right away, giving them space instead of crowding them. they were genuine, though whether or not antonio took that way was entirely up to him.

darryl sat at the head of the table with a folder open in front of him, though his attention shifted up the second jason stepped into the room. he looked tired in the way he always did lately, not worn down, just carrying more than usual, but it hadn’t dulled the steadiness in him any. one hand rested loosely against the side of his glass while the other tapped once against the paperwork before stilling completely. “got a shipment coming in tonight,” he said without much preamble, voice low and even. “need you handling it.” there was no hesitation in the request, no uncertainty behind it. if anything, it sounded like a decision he’d already made hours ago. “you’ve been fillin’ the gap better than most would,” he added after a moment, gaze settling properly on him now. “can't say it really surprises me much."

he leaned back slightly in his chair after that, studying jason for a beat like he was measuring more than the conversation at hand. bash’s temporary demotion had left a noticeable shift in the club’s structure, but darryl wasn’t the kind of man who let cracks sit open for long. he filled them. adapted. kept things moving. “route’s the same as usual,” he continued calmly, “but i might be sendin’ more guys with you this time.” a brief pause followed, deliberate, thoughtful. “don’t take it personal. i trust you just fine.” his shook his head, “we just need to be more careful than usual right now is all."

“sit down a minute.” darryl nodded toward the chair beside him, one hand loosely wrapped around the neck of his beer bottle while the other rested against the bartop. “you’re wearin’ yourself thin.” the salty splatoon carried on around them with scattered laughter, glasses clinking somewhere further down the bar, but he barely paid any attention to it. his focus stayed fixed where it belonged. he took a slow sip before setting the bottle back down with a soft tap. “and before you tell me you’re fine,” he added, the corner of his mouth pulling slightly, “ye look like you haven’t slept properly in about a week.” there wasn’t judgment in it, just that familiar steady concern he rarely voiced outright. “drink somethin’. breathe for five damn minutes."

it wasn't even noon yet and darryl was already halfway under the bike, one arm braced against the concrete while the other worked a wrench into place by feel alone. sleeves pushed up, hands stained with grease, he moved effortlessly. the conversation with bash yesterday had gone how he expected it would go. it wasn't a decision he had made easily and usually when he had to make those kinds of calls, he didn't sleep that night. so he began to tinker with his bike, bella faithfully by his side all night (asleep snuggly in her doggy bed she has in the garage), and hadn't even realized how much time went by. once he got into the rhythm of it, it was like he wasn’t just fixing something, he was working through whatever sat in the back of his mind. it'd always been like that for him.

the garage door was half open, letting in just enough light to catch on chrome and worn metal. darryl shifted slightly, exhaling under his breath as he reached for a tool that sat just out of reach on the table. whether it was early in the morning or noon the man couldn't tell you right now. his fingers brushed air instead, and after a second, he stilled before glancing up, not at all surprised to see soph. his gaze flicked toward the wrench, then back up again. “good to see ye', soph” he said, offering her a kind smile. "you mind grabbin' that wrench for me?"

darryl stood behind the table with a bottle in hand, pouring himself a drink like it was any other night, the motion smooth and unhurried. he didn’t look up right away when bash stepped in, just let the sound of his arrival settle before setting the bottle down with a quiet clink. he had waited to call on bash for numerous reasons, but in the end…he had decided that the route he would take with bash was the only logical one. he tried, really he did, to find another solution. but every single one just pointed back to this decision. it had not been one taken lightly, then again, neither were bastian’s actions. such little regard for the club, and that was the main problem here. his gaze lifted, steady and unreadable, landing on bash after a moment.

“hello, bash.” he tipped the glass slightly in his hand before gesturing toward the rest of the bottles. “would you like a drink?” he leaned his weight back against the edge of the table, one hand loosely wrapped around his glass, the other resting flat against the wood. there was nothing sharp in his expression, nothing immediate, but it wasn’t soft either. just calm. controlled, more than anything. “seems like you’ve had yourself an eventful couple of days,” he added, voice even, taking a swig of his whiskey, watching bash from over the rim of his glass. he let the silence stretch for a moment, not pressing, he usually never did, just allowed the air to settle.