#sinners.starter

he  sat  at  his  usual  table  near  the  front—black  hoodie  rolled  to  the  elbows,  files  spread  out  in  precise  stacks  like  they  were  part  of  the  décor.  property  reports,  zoning  permits,  and  a  manila  folder  labeled  lennox  arms  in  red  pen.  the  espresso  was  hot,  sharp,  and  black  as  sin.  he  sipped  it  slow,  eyes  never  leaving  the  page.

he  didn’t  look  up  when  the  figure  approached.  the  rhythm  of  the  café  shifted.  conversations  paused,  just  for  a  beat.  the  kind  of  silence  that  knew  something  was  off.  cassius’s  voice  was  calm  but  edged  like  a  razor.

the bar was loud but not unbearable, music muffled just enough by the sagging insulation in the ceiling. alma was perched on a cracked vinyl stool, hoodie half-zipped, one leg swinging lazily like a metronome. that's when she noticed it. the wallet hit the floor with a dull slap, its owner too drunk to notice as he stumbled toward the exit.

alma got up, walked over, and glanced down, slow and deliberate. then, she crouched like she was tying a shoe. one smooth motion: pocket the cash, toss the empty wallet behind a chair. no one noticed. no one ever did. except...someone did. she felt it, that tight pull of attention. turning just enough to catch the other in her periphery, she nodded at them with the kind of look that said, well, shit. not a flicker of shame on her face. nothing softened. nothing stammered. “you gonna fuckin' preach, or you want a cut?” she asked, slipping back into her seat at the bar.

Brooklyn pushed through the door of the tattoo place. After such a rough week, she figured it would be nice to treat herself. Brooklyn flipped through the book as she looked up at someone who was waiting inside, "What do you think? Tramp stamp or double lip piercings?" She asked, waggling her eyebrows,

the coffee shop was basically a second home to elena. she spent more time there than anywhere else. there was coffee, encrypted wifi, comfy chairs...what else could she want? well, there were a few things. none that mattered at the moment though. she got up from her chair to order a new coffee and a snack when she saw the barista defeatedly placing a cup on the counter and moving on to a different order. noticing the person standing next to her, she waved her hand to catch their attention before nodding to the front. "hey...is that yours?"

The rooftop was buzzing with quiet opulence—low beats pulsing through the floorboards, skyline glittering like a lie too pretty to question. She leaned against the bar with the kind of ease only earned by not giving a damn who noticed her.

A cocktail in hand, she gave it a second sip, brows lifting slightly. “Damn,” she muttered, half to herself, half to anyone close enough to hear. “I was half hoping the drinks would be shit.”

She turned the glass slow in her fingers, studying the amber liquid like it owed her answers.

“Guess they really meant it when they said the wait was worth it.”

Miles ran his fingers across the keyboard in front of him. He didn't need something new, but he wanted it. He needed something to wash away the guilt he felt after the memorial. He wasn't to blame for everything that happened, but he didn't know where it ended. The Veil had used him, and he knew he needed to get to the bottom of things. He looked to the person beside him and smiled. "Did you want to look at something too? I feel bad you came all the way here with me."

"Ah..." A light laugh followed by a nod of the head. There's a long pause as he chews on his words carefully, studying the expression of his company longer than a socially acceptable second. Corners of his lips pull into a lopsided smile, dark eyes twinkling a bit as he finally speaks. "Do not look at me like I am the only one lying."