"you'll have to excuse me." she muttered as she crossed the ballroom, catching up with them just as they released him outside. "does someone care to explain what all the commotion was about? I try to put on a nice and serene event and it seems to be filled with shouting."

she's sitting with her feet kicked up in his lap, the room quiet around them. it's odd, how easy it's been to fall back into old habits. there's something well-worn about the way things are between them, but a flicker of something new, too. henley had stopped fiddling with her laptop a while ago, but danny is still absorbed in what he's reading. she just watches him for a moment. the whirlwind had been fun– exhilarating, actually– and about a thousand other adjectives that would take too long to list. she knows it'll grow old eventually, but for now? the quiet is really nice.

and so, after the dust was settled, she found herself at his door. invited in, even — a gesture she certainly hadn’t been expecting. “i won’t stay long.” there is a newfound gentleness to her tone, to the look in her eyes. “i just wanted to thank you for what you did for teddy today. i never got the chance to tell you. everything was so…”

when she lifts her gaze to meet his, he’s much closer than he was just moments ago. touching her face, lifting her chin, allowing her to really see him for the first time. it’s almost cautious the first time their lips meet — caution that snowballs rapidly into something more eager, demanding. a soft whine of approval sounds from the back of the former president’s throat as she pulls him in closer, desperate to explore more of him. and as he backs her against the wall behind them, she is forced to admit to herself just how badly she wants him. maybe she always has. lips crash together, more heated by the second, and she hooks one leg around him between gasps for air. “joel.”

there's something about two people, outcasts from their homes meeting after so many centuries, finding something to bond over. it's a hatred that burns in their chests, a common fire that lets him drop his guard when he's around jack. it's so nice to be understood for once. perhaps there's a matched loneliness inside the two of them, one that causes lucy to perch in his lap and kiss him like there's no end.

jack touches him roughly, something that sends lucy's nerves alight. he's grown tired of the niceties, that because she's a woman, she can't take anything rough. the way jack treats her feels good, her own hands pressing to the taut muscles of his shoulders. she lets out a hard sound, one like she's been taken aback when he bites down at the junction between shoulder and neck. " fuck-- jack! " it's a sharp whine, her teeth biting down at her bottom lip. she wonders if she's bleeding-- if he wanted to make her bleed in the first place.

❝ why, astarion, it's certainly not like you to be so bold and quippy, ❞ shadowheart replies dryly, a clearly wry tilt to her lips as she observes the vampire before her. she silently acknowledges his regal visage, a pale sort of beauty which would have had her younger self –– so starved for attention and affection, for touch in particular –– blushing within seconds. her reverie never lasts long, though.

❝ I only came to offer you my blood. I know tav no longer lets you drink from them. and... my lady happens to believe that the pain of being fed upon will do me well in the days to come as we approach her gauntlet. ❞ shadowheart's chin raises –– she is regal in her own way. a holy templar, a knight of darkness and shadow. one day, soon, a dark justiciar, forever bound within the cruel cradle of her dark mistress. as uncomfortable as the idea of surrendering herself to astarion like this is, shadowheart trusts her lady implicitly. and, well... she trusts astarion too... much to her own surprise. ❝ well, then. what do you say? ❞

generally, showing up unannounced isn't something eliot would do with someone he's seeing. that's the kind of thing that used to be reserved for marks–– hell, even the team knew him to drop in and out without much warning. but the whole point of relocating, of going off the grid and trying to be just a–– a person–– was that he didn't have to do that kind of thing anymore. no more sticking to the shadows, no more getting the drop on people and slinking back home with a black eye and a broken rib.

that's why he's a little peaky, dropping in on alice like this. of course it's about the least nefarious thing he could be doing, ambling up to her front porch with some flowers and a nice bottle of wine he picked up a few towns over. but it's got a little echo of his old life–– something he'd like to keep as far away from her as possible. he tries to put it out of his mind as he walks up the drive, and a small smile settles on his face when he sees that she's sitting out on her front porch. he clocks the bottle of beer in her hand and figures that means they'll save the wine for another day. and that's all fine until he gets close enough to get a good look at her face. her eyes, normally alive with so much light, gaze out ahead of her without really looking at much. her expression is almost slack, certainly disconnected. he hurries his pace, just a little.