#ineschat

Ines's excitement sticks, breath still uneven from the mad dash through the hotel, Jakob right behind her. She knows, without a doubt, that he held back on purpose, never overtaking her, just so she could be the one to choose the movie. That small gesture, one of many she’s noticed, makes something flutter inside her chest, how he's more considerate than she ever expected. When they finally burst into the room, the sight that greets them momentarily diverts them from the real reason why they were both rushing. Ines feels her steps falter as her eyes sweep over the space, warmth greets her in the form of a clean, dry t-shirt folded neatly on the bed, ready for her to slip into beneath the plush robe. But it's the mountain of food that really stops her in her tracks. More food than she’s ever seen laid out in one place, all for the two of them. Plates piled high with colorful, rich dishes that smell divine.

It's a quiet moment of awe for her, another flicker of that strange feeling like she's known Jakob much longer than she actually has. The way they naturally settle on the bed together, legs sprawled over each other without thought, as if they've been doing this for years. The bed itself is massive, the biggest she's ever seen, but it shrinks around them as they snack and talk, their limbs tangled together in a way that feels both intimate and effortless. She doesn't even realize that one of her feet has been resting on his leg for most of the evening, anchoring them together without either of them acknowledging it.

Her final bite of cake makes her huff softly, the crumbs brushing off the edge of her robe. With a mischievous grin, she flicks them toward Jakob. "I think I ate too much." she confesses with a laugh, but straightens up quickly with a story on her lips, also ready to defend herself before he can point out that she devoured two of the small cakes before even touching the real food, and then two more. "You wanna know something weird about me?" she asks suddenly, the playful spark in her eyes shifting to something a bit more conspiratorial. "It's like, really hard for me to be sick." she chuckles, her grin back as her eyes momentarily flick between Jakob's. "Okay, so, there's context. Obviously. My cousin has lived with us since we were kids." she begins, brushing her hands clean and shifting slightly, her leg sliding around Jakob's further. "He’s…well, he's weird. And he literally terrorizes me. And he'd do this thing-"

Her laugh comes again, quickly between her words. "He'd grab me by the ankles and spin me around. Always after we ate, too, like he thought making me sick would scare me into telling him." the memory makes her snort. "But now, because of all that, I have a really hard time throwing up. Like, I adapted. I evolved." Ines grins, a hand absently finding it's way to Jakob's mess of hair, pushing it gently back from his face as she chuckles, once again pulled in as she studies him. "I guess it's a party trick? A weird one, though. Because, it's kinda hard to prove."

Ines wanders through the house, after commandeering the speakers for a solid ten songs. She knows how to move through these sort of things. Used to it since she was tiny. In fact, there's like a million pictures of her as a little girl painting "Big Mike's" nails or showing "Wrench Hand Andy" her unicorn dress. She knows where to linger, when to fade into the background. Knows how to nod at people she's supposed to know, how to act surprised when her father introduces yet another friend. She doesn't even have to try anymore. Investors, business partners, old friends from way back. It's funny, really, how many of them have fresh teardrop tattoos. How many have life is pain inked across their throats. Or, angel wings. Saint wings. How they all look at Santiago with a particular kind of reverence, like he's a high priest at an altar instead of just her dad, the guy who still makes a face at canned salsa and refuses to admit he needs reading glasses.

But there's something that isn't funny at all.

She's used to these nights. Used to the murmured conversations, the occasional burst of laughter, the way people glance around like they need to know exactly who's in the room at all times. She's used to pretending she doesn't know what these people do, what her family does. But she's most used to Beatriz being here. Moving through the kitchen, cooking enough food to feed a small country. Normally, the air would be thick with the scent of birria. There'd be tamales piled high.

But now? Now there's the unmistakable smell of too many pizzas, the scent of catered food that doesn't quite belong. Some little service Santiago must have called up, little aluminum trays of rice and carnitas. The right food in the wrong way. It's not the same. Not really. Ines wonders if her father thinks it too. Still, there's something funny about Santiago standing near the kitchen, looking as if he's been cooking. A little stressed. A little wary. Like the food will turn on him.

-

Ines doesn't know anything about Earth's big historical moments or landmarks. Schools in The Wards just don't teach that. So when she's asked where she wants to visit, she's scrolling for the first thing to jump out at her. And then she sees it. Ding Dong, Texas. She snorts so loud that the people in line shuffle impatiently, making her clear her throat. It's probably just gonna be you in this server, and some AI. That okay?"Perfect, yeah." she had said, still laughing and not surprised no one else is dying to visit Ding Dong.

This is a once in a lifetime thing for Ines. She knows she'll never afford the experience ever again, so it might as well be the most hilarious place name she's ever heard. After downing her nutripack, Ines 'arrives' in Ding Dong, still giggling as the world around her shifts and blurs into focus. It's disorientating for a second, like her brain can't catch up to so many sensations at once. She glances at her hands, half expecting her to be what glitches, not the scenery.

But, she's on a mission: find the sign. There's no way she's leaving without taking a picture in front of the "Welcome to Ding Dong" sign. Except, when she gets there, it's half-loaded, flickering in and out like it's buffering. Or, having a seizure. She sighs, comms in hand, hoping she can time it perfectly for the shot. But, just as she gets into place, the sign disappears again, allowing her to see someone approaching from the other side in her screen. "Holy shit." Ines jumps slightly, spinning around and squinting.

At first, she thinks it's AI and she's suddenly curious about interacting with the human-like intelligence when it's...a human. But as they approach closer to one another, Ines's stomach does a somersault. Jakob Ranstrom, of all places, has picked Ding Dong. "Oh." it's not disappointment, more like awkward surprise. Her cheeks flush as she tries to push away the...very vivid thoughts, the reasons why she's been avoiding him. "I thought you were AI. That's hilarious." Ines chuckles, squinting at him again. "Wait, are you AI? Like...not normally, I mean right now." things were a little too real to be AI the last time they saw one another. "Is this an AI you?" her hand lifts up, giving a pat to his face, and then retracts as she feels ultra realistic skin under her palm. "Oh shit, no, that's you. Hi. Hey, or er...Howdy. The sign's broken."

Ines knows Jakob is here, somewhere among the glittering grand gala. It's like a current beneath the surface, a pull she can't quite resist, though she tries to keep her gaze from constantly seeking him out. Despite her efforts, her eyes find him time and again, as if drawn by some invisible force they've both found themselves navigating. It's strange, this silent magnetism between them, something neither of them can fully explain. There's no obvious barrier keeping them apart, but an unspoken hesitation lingers. Her father's voice echoes in her mind, a warning that came without much explanation: "Be careful around the Ranstroms. They're not to be trusted." Why, exactly, she isn't sure, but the words replay over this undefined thing between her and Jakob.

But then there's a moment, another meeting of their eyes across the room, and she decides that wanting to speak to him is enough of a reason as any. With a subtle nod towards the doors, she signals her intention to step outside. Smoking is a habit she picks up and drops, her training and competitions usually keeping the temptations in check. But ever since returning home and discovering the existence of her newborn half-brother, she figures a little indulgence is the least she deserves.

As she slips out and Jakob falls into step beside her, a slight grin tugs at her lips. She glances up at him, her gaze lingering longer than she intends, tracing the lines of his features, memorizing them in a way that feels almost wrong to. "Have you won anything yet? Or even bet on something?" she asks, but the small talk is only a filler until they're outside and have escaped the bustle of the gala. "My dad didn't make them do garlic mussels this year and I'm actually so bummed, you have no idea." she laughs, the sound freer now they're alone. "Have you been to this thing before? They're amazing. It's like my cousins recipe but he does this twist to it, won't tell me what it is either. Maybe they're not even mussels." she chuckles, slipping her cigarettes from her clutch. "I like...this." Ines hesitantly gestures to him, clearing her throat at how the compliment almost leaves her so easily and trips her up in the process. "It's kinda pointy, like cat ears but for guys." she adds, hoping she clarifies that it's about his bow tie. And not well...all of him.

-

With a sharp twist of the lock and the diner sign flipped to CLOSED, and Ines is already turning from the door like she just pulled off a heist, a smug little smirk pulling at her lips. "Alright," she starts, already setting the stakes before Jakob can say a word. "Think we can clean everything down in, like, fifteen minutes? Maybe even ten?" she steps closer, clapping her hands together once like a coach about to send a team into overtime. "Not to brag or anything," she adds, rolling up her sleeves with dramatic intent, "but I have somewhere to be." she doesn't, just maybe a date with a book or a walk.

The rag is her first weapon of choice, whipped from her apron with a snap. Next, she grabs the spray bottle from a nearby booth, twirling it around her finger like an old Western gunslinger. The spin is just a little off, but she catches it before it can embarrass her completely, aiming it straight up at Jakob’s face. A moment of silence. A pause, long enough for him to maybe think she won’t actually...

Spritz.

-

Ines isn't actively dodging the event as there's no pressing reason for her to. Yet, she can't shake this sense of displacement. Unsure of how long it's supposed to take for the jagged edges of New York to soften into something resembling home. Uncertain of when her own grief will shrink to a more manageable size. Throughout the evening, she finds herself beside several conversations swirling around those connected to the people killed. Snippets of shared memories drift her way, but they fail to fully register. A certain numbness taking hold that she doesn't know what to do with. So, she slips outside, for possibly the tenth time that evening. With a hesitant gesture, Ines points to the other's packet of cigarettes. "Mind if I?" she ventures softly, offering a smile with her request. "I've...been trying to quit so I didn't bring a whole pack with me." she adds with a slight sigh. "Obviously, got very impressive will-power." the shifter mutters with a grin before brandishing her lighter already tucked under her fingers. "Came prepared, though? That's something."

-

Ines feels the moment she becomes invisible, a bystander to Zac and Zeyna's verbal tennis match. Their bickering flows like they've been at it for years, caught in some endless loop of nonsense. At first, it's funny but after a while, Ines starts to tune out. She pushes her chair back, the screech barely cutting through the noise, and it still doesn't snap them out of their back-and-forth.

Her attention shifts as someone new walks into the bar. Instinctively, she looks over, and her eyes land on him. Her heart rate picks up that very same second. He's tall, with intense sharp features that look carved. Light eyes under furrowed brows, and the kind of smirk that suggests he's seen the world and come out a little bruised, but still standing. He's all muscle and raw energy and Ines's reaction is purely biological. Holy shit, she thinks, quickly glancing away as soon as their eyes meet. She stares into her half empty glass, swirling the ice as if that's even something people do.

"How do people even look like that?" she mutters, giving Zeyna a nudge and certain her friend must have seen him. Who wouldn't? But, Zeyna is too busy trying to verbally corner Zac, and she's met with a very Turkish wave of a wrist. By the time Zeyna finally glances over, he's already gone. But Ines can't quite shake him. Every now and then, she catches a glimpse of him through the haze of people, tall enough to stand out like a shadow just a little darker than the rest. He slips in and out of her periphery, and never fully leaving her mind.

Eventually, she drifts to the bar, deciding on one last drink before calling it a night. Zac and Zeyna are still at it, and she knows how that's going to end. As she weaves through the crowd, dodging drunken sways and stumbling bodies, something, or rather, someone, hits her right at her temple.

A simple aah leaves her lips, hand flying to her head. When she looks up, it's him. He's even more striking and Ines can't help but laugh. The sound comes out a little stranger than her usual chuckle, and she hopes the flush she feels returning to her cheeks isn't obvious. "Ouch?" she finally manages, a grin moving over her lips as she rubs her temple. "That was kinda rude." she adds, and points to where she's going to move to. "Can I go there without getting assaulted? Is that good?"

Ines isn't one to take things as a sign, but she can't shake the weird feeling creeping up her spine. The Zippo that Kyle got her, a supposedly unbreakable lighter, lies cracked in her hand, and she frowns, thumb running over the damaged casing as if it might fix itself. Her cigarette dangles unlit from her lips as she stares at the lighter, trying not to think about any supposed meaning. Then the faint smell of a lit cigarette drifts her way, catching her attention. Someone with better luck than her, apparently. Or someone without a doomed ex boyfriend. She glances over and spots one of the security perched on a trailer step, smoke curling lazily from his hand. Tate's brother, she realizes, recognizing him instantly. Well, one of them.