#ft. aslan

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐭 home while francis, understandably, grieved romeo, and chasing leads on dixie hines, romy had been busy. it had been a few weeks since she’d met with aslan, and she’d managed to scrape together some information. she didn’t know if it would be enough for him, but aslan had never been unfair in what he expected of her. she’d asked him to take a few minutes away from the party so she could update him, mostly wanting to get it over with before she went looking for cleo to ask if she had anything on her. outside, the beach was nearly black beneath the moonlight, the tide coming in loud and cold. it was a welcome coastal chill compared to the hot city. the party carried on faintly behind them, muffled music and distant laughter, but she’d made sure to find a secluded spot.

when aslan approached, romy held out an envelope, folded small enough to slide easily into a suit pocket. inside was a flash drive, encrypted in case he lost it. she had harry, now, to teach her about computers the way she taught him about bombs. “everythin’ i could find on dixie,” she began. “i followed the materials trail. they shared a traceable manufacturer.”

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. she knew he was a man who allocated his minutes as if they were currency with a fixed rate. And honestly she found this quality refreshing. with aslan, words meant exactly what they said, no hidden agendas to untangle or subtle implications to decipher. his directness matched the linear pathways of her own thought process. and she owed him. for nevada. for tying off loose ends and giving her a name that existed on paper. now pantheon was striking again, this time trying to blow everyone up. they were playing with bombs, so romy wanted to check in with her boss, see if she could be useful in any way. “hope it’s okay that i diffused that bomb,” she began, her gaze lowering briefly, face calm and steady. “don’t want the police to start askin’ questions.”

𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞, but the bomb threat at the masquerade had rattled her more than she liked to admit. it didn’t help that beneath her bubbly exterior lived a jittery ball of anxiety kept in check by prescription medication. almost blowing up hadn’t exactly done wonders for that. lately, she’d caught herself thinking about what it would mean to actually live alone in this city, without zeina, without that built-in sense of safety. and the answer kept circling back to protection. unlike their last chance encounter, this time she sought aslan out. “okay,” she started, already half-smiling like she knew how this sounded, “don’t take this in, like, an insulting way or anything, but i feel like you’re someone who would know where a girl could buy a—” a small pause, like even saying it felt dramatic, “—gun.” she straightened quickly, hands lifting in mild surrender. “no shade,” she added, earnest but still light, a nervous laugh tucked in there. “you just have that whole…intimidating air. in a cool way.” ironically enough, he knew more about weapons than selin could know.

𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 of place where even the air felt expensive. selin stood between two cars she absolutely could not afford, pretending she was weighing options instead of calculating how many bartending shifts it would take to afford a tire. she’d arrived with some guy she’d met at the recent race, but he had disappeared the second someone mentioned a limited edition engine. typical. she turned on her heel and nearly laughed when she spotted a familiar figure across the showroom floor. “aslan?” she called, already smiling as she approached him. “wow. you look just as intimidating as you did walking zeina down the aisle.” she tilted her head. “i mean that as a compliment, by the way. very stoic. fits the vibe. are you here to buy one of these?” not like selin knew what lurked beneath the shiny public-facing exterior of this place.