you could let it all go *

"you're so good with words," she managed to tease him, a half-smile tugging at her features as she twisted around the rest of the way, wanting to fully face him now. each and every word he spoke sunk in deeper and deeper, coursing through her veins like her life depended on them. in a way, it did; jo felt like the closest thing she had to family apart from her older sister, but their relationship had been strained because of their parents. josiah had sauntered into her life like he owned the place, and while they had blindsided each other, they were like two magnets that were impossible to separate. without a word, isobel crawled forward until she was straddling jo's lap, her arms winding around his neck just in time for her to press a long, needy kiss to his lips. "yes," she finally whispered, to word disappearing against his lips before she pulled back to look at him. "the answer is yes, and it wouldn't be anything but yes." she paused for only a moment, her fingers making their way through jo's thick curls, her nose scrunching happily. "you've been the best change i could ever ask for, josiah moore. you, and hudson, and this stinky fishing boat that i've come to love so much. you're my home."

❛ i know you better than almost anyone else, josiah moore. ❜ it's difficult for josiah to find the words to describe exactly how it feels to hear her say that ― and, more than that, for him to know it's the resounding truth. in fact, jo would argue there's only one other person on this green earth who knows more about him, and that's hudson. but they've got nearly a lifetime on izzie, a good majority of which the pair have spent living together in some way or another. but for her to know him, to understand him not only so well but so soon ? it's exhilarating and terrifying and overwhelming and exciting all at once. if he thinks on it too long or too hard, his heart starts to race and his head starts to spin and, more often than not, he's got to take a quick plunge in the frigid atlantic to clear his head and ground himself. for now, he'll have to rely on the sound of her laughter to keep him tethered to reality, the gentle weight of her back pressed against his chest and the way her hair tickles his neck in the salty breeze. josiah can't remember the last time he's allowed himself to be so vulnerable in front of somebody, not like this. ( well, no, he can, actually, but he chooses not to. sometimes, though... sometimes he can't help but be plagued by memories of the woman he'd almost called a wife, the daughter he'd truly believed was his. he's quick to push them away just as soon as they show up. ) it's for that reason that the brief pause she takes before answering ― a reasonable pause, he tries to remind himself, because he's just asked her a huge question ― has seconds feeling like hours and his stomach twisting into nervous knots. and when she breaks the silence to tease him, all of that nervous energy comes tumbling out in a laugh and he ducks his head sheepishly. ❝ i got the louisiana public school system to thank for that, ❞ he says, but it isn't really much of an excuse, is it ? look at hudson, after all ; the two of them went to some of the same schools, but jo would be the first to admit that his younger sibling is by far the more intelligent of them both. definitely the more literate, that's for sure. ( sometimes he wonders if he's smart enough for her, but he tries not to dwell on that too long either. ) it's hard to dwell on any of his thoughts when she turns around to face him, catching his gaze ; her eyes are the color of spanish moss in the golden light of dusk, and something intangible swells in his chest and he can't explain it but it reminds him of home. she hasn't answered him yet, but something in the way she crawls into his lap and wraps her arms around him has josiah thinking maybe he shouldn't be so nervous in his waiting. ( not unless she's trying to let him down gently. ) so if he's got any worry at all, it fades into background noise as izzie presses her lips to his. blindly, he drags his cigarette against the dock to put it out so he can land both hands on her hips and pull her close. ❝ yeah ? ❞ he breathes against her lips when she pulls away just far enough to finally answer him, and the relief that swells inside of him is enough to have him swooping in for one more kiss before she leans back. ❝ good. good. y'could've said so a little bit sooner, maybe, ❞ he teases, chuckling quietly if only to try and quell his embarrassment for having been so anxious about it all. jo's eyes slip shut for a second as her hands sink into his hair, and he tries not to get too lost in the moment. he's still listening to her, after all. an eye peeks open as izzie's words grow even more sentimental and he lets her finish fully before leaning forward, long arms wrapping around her in a snug embrace as he pulls her close to his chest. his face disappears into her hair as he presses a kiss to her neck, smiling into soft skin. ❝ well, now you gone and stole the words right outta my mouth, ❞ he murmurs against her before pulling back just far enough to lock eyes with her again. ❝ i love you, you know that ? so damn much it's silly. ❞

❝ if i was tryin' to poison ya, don't y'think i'd sooner put in your mac and cheese, huh ? something you'd eat ? surely not somethin' i'm not even sure i can put down. ❞ the jab is nothing short of playful and teasing and the grin josiah flashes their sibling promises as much. ( even if it is a bit lopsided from the chewy scrap of squid still stuck in the side of his cheek. ) and to be fair, he can't exactly blame them for turning up their nose ; not all of his meals are this inedible, but he'll be the first to admit he's grateful for izzie's prowess in the kitchen lately to make up for where he lacks. fist curling around his spoon in a white-knuckled grip, jo forces himself to swallow. ❝ well i can promise ya that everything i put in the pot was edible, ❞ he defends himself, even as a dubious glance is spared toward the offending meal between them. ❝ don't seem like it no more, granted, but that's a fact. ❞ josiah snorts at his sibling's question, unable to do anything but concede to the truth with a nod. ❝ i ― well, i ― yes. exactly ! and that's why ain't nothin' wrong with it. you're just provin' my point ― and i tell you what, hud, i appreciate ya for it. ❞ at that, jo digs heels into the floor to push his chair back from the table and presses palms into denim-clad thighs as he rises to his feet. ❝ oh, your treat, huh ? well shit, alright then ! ❞ he's striding across the narrow living space as he speaks, collecting his wallet and keys along the way. ❝ i wonder if that paravinci's place makes a good pie. ❞ another joke, of course ; they've been going to the same hole-in-the-wall pizzeria since they got to dagger point, where the slices are cheap and greasy ― as they should be. but he'll take any opportunity for a little lighthearted antagonizing of his younger sibling, so he calls over his shoulder as he starts out toward the deck, ❝ y'know i ain't never had a truffle before, but i do like mushrooms on pizza. ❞

with a shy smile on her face and a false sense of confidence, kit stepped up to the stall without hesitation, glad that it wasn't busy for once. she'd never spoken to josiah moore before, but she'd heard about him through the town rumor mill, and her interest was piqued. she had no idea how this interaction would go, but she wasn't about to lie and say she wasn't excited and nervous all at once. her feet dragged the rest of the way, stopping only once her hips came into contact with the table that separated them, her head cocking to the side almost innocently. "sure is a nice day to be outside, huh?" she started, bouncing up on her toes briefly before dropping back to her normal height. "you catch all these yourself?"

josiah moore might not take too much stock in religion anymore, but he knows well enough to thank whatever higher powers that be when he's gifted with a late morning lull at the market. and look, it's not like he doesn't know he should be grateful for any and all business at his humble little open-air fish stall ; aside from the miscellaneous handiwork gigs, this stall is what makes sure he can keep himself and his younger sibling well provided for. and it's not like he doesn't have savings ― even after buying his boat, selling the house back in louisiana left the pair of them with a fairly decent cushion to fall back on if they needed. but he'd like to keep that saved if he can, for hudson and... well, maybe for his own future. he hadn't ever really thought about himself much when he thought of the future, but now... a wandering gaze strays toward the orchard stall a few dozen yards away and the blonde rising to her toes to view the menu on the table from the line. ( he'd personally requested apple cider, but he knows she'll come back with at least one treat for them to share. ) his lips twitch upward, the slightest display of his amusement, and he spends several long seconds watching her before he realizes there's somebody standing at his own stall. ❝ huh ? ❞ the fisherman blinks, waits a moment for his brain to catch up to her words. ❝ oh ― yeah, is a pretty nice one, ain't it ? ❞ although he'd be the first to admit that it took a long while for it to grow on him, jo thinks he's finally starting to like the new england weather. the air is cooler, crisp in a way louisiana's milder autumns were not. he offers her a smile ― friendly and polite as they come, he's gotten quite good at it ― and, at her question, drops his gaze to the various fish and crustaceans displayed in large tin basins over ice. ❝ just this mornin', matter of fact, ❞ jo informs her with a chuckle. ❝ and every day, bright and early as the asscrack of dawn. hey, ain't i seen you 'round here before ? ❞

"I desperately needed a day like this." Gossip magazines and various nail polish bottles, hair ties and earrings littered the floor of Riley's room - despite vehemently pushing back every time they were called a girl, there was still something so fun about having a more feminine geared night in with your favorite people. "I wanted to get my ears pierced again but I thought it would be more fun and rebellious to do it here instead."

❝ oh my god, me too ! like, you would not even believe. ❞ frannie is sat, cross-legged, on the floor of riley's bedroom, a torn open amazon mailer in her lap and several miscellaneous baggies and pouches strewn around her. ❝ the salon has been making me want to go full britney, ❞ she confesses. and okay, yes, it is a student salon, but that doesn't make the clientele any less stressful. in fact, if you were to ask her, they're probably worse. ❝ but i do not have the wallet to afford wigs if i snap and shave my head like she does, so... at-home piercings it is. ❞ grinning up at riley, frannie arches a brow. ❝ ooh, feeling rebellious, are we ? anyway, don't even worry, i spent like, three hours on youtube last night watching tutorials. i'm basically certified. there's zero chance this can go wrong. ❞

it's a bit of a process, wheeling the upright piano all the way from his classroom down the halls and through the back entrance to the auditorium ; it's a narrow squeeze for the bulky wooden instrument ( likely older than the music teacher himself if he's being honest ) but kelly's just grateful the piano still has all four wheels attached and functional. would it be easier and just as effective for sound quality to shove the heavy thing through the double-doors of the auditorium's entrance ? sure, and to be fair, kelly's thought about it. the problem is, he doesn't trust some of his second graders half as far as he could throw 'em ( not that he'd ever, even when they're being rambunctious little hellions ) and surely not enough to be on stage, alone, when it'll take him at least sixty seconds to get up there to them from below. this isn't his first choral rodeo, thank you very much. kelly's just managed to get the piano pushed to the center of the stage when a voice catches his attention and he swivels around, grinning once his gaze lands on gray. ❝ just in time ! the gremlins should be showing up in about ten minutes, ❞ he says as he strides over to the edge of the stage, pulling long curls back into a loose bun before he hops down off the side. ❝ oh, thanks ! forgot you even had 'em, if i'm being honest. ❞ the heel of one hand bounces off his temple with a roll of his eyes as the other reaches out for the wigs. ❝ scatterbrain, you know ? but i'm glad somebody remembered, anyway. ❞ the music teacher lights up at the question about the musical and he nods. ❝ oh, yeah ! well, we've got four shows planned this year, you know ! i've split them up with kindies through second graders and third through fifth graders, a winter and a spring production for each. ❞ is it overly ambitious for the music teacher who already has a full plate of lesson plans to put together nearly every night ? perhaps, but kelly mcmaster is nothing if not optimistic. ❝i had a couple of disney samples for them to pick from, so we're leaning into that for winter ― the little ones are doing the aristocats, and the older kids picked the lion king. i ― now that i think about it, i'm noticing a theme. a lot of cats this year, ❞ kelly laughs. ❝ and hey, if you're interested, i could always use a hand putting it all together.❞

"Ah, shit," Avi hissed as her guitar string snapped, flinching as it nearly sliced the back of her hand, but it wasn't that bad. "Okay; maybe that's a good cue to end here for the day." Letting out a defeated sigh, she carefully set her guitar down as they started fussing with the first aid kit. "Do you ever wind your strings too tight, or are most of your injuries from your skating shenanigans?"

dark eyes may be bloodshot but they're quick to react when avi swears just a few feet away from them ; dani startles at the sound, looking up from his own instrument in search of the source of her frustration. it doesn't take long to notice the curled ends of taut metal string and the way she's recoiled from the neck of the guitar, hand drawn back as if stung. and dani's fucked around and found out enough times to know exactly what's happened. ❝ oof, yeah, i'd say it's good a time as any to call it quits, ❞ they agree. ❝ even if it would be metal as fuck to keep playing with a bloody hand. maybe save those theatrics for a live gig ? i know a crowd would eat that shit up. ❞ heaving the candy pink bass from their shoulders, dani rises to pastel-socked feet and shuffles over to the cabinet where there's a generously half-stocked first aid kit hiding behind a sticker-pasted door. ❝ aw, nah, gauge is too heavy on 'em to snap like that, ❞ dani explains of their bass strings, ❝ not unless i really start slappin' on 'em, you know ? ❞ they laugh, a cheeky grin flashing across tanned features. ❝ you're right, though, i eat way more shit skating by far. like, astronomically more. now lemme see your hand ! ❞

"Is there a happier place than this in town?" Deniz sighed almost dreamily as she watched the pups frolic and play with each other. "I love letting my dog have social time like this. I have yet to find a suitable match for myself, but at least the people watching is fun, right?"

❝ at least a handful, ❞ dizzy replies, breezy and unabashedly honest. if it's a rhetorical question, they don't actually notice. and it's not a knock at the dog park either ; it's a nice enough place, often populated with some of dagger point's finest. ( although they're a cat person personally if they're forced to subscribe to the general binary of pets, even dizzy cannot deny that dog people are a different breed of friendly. ) there just so happen to be other places that are equally as charming and readily available for socializing that don't require them to risk sliding around on dog shit in their boots. that said, they are having a good time, and as much is evident in the smile that lingers on their lips despite the words. ❝ but there's certainly no shortage of interesting strangers to watch, ❞ daivat continues, dark eyes drifting lazily across their surroundings. ❝ what's stopping you from getting up and talking to someone then, hm ? your suitable match could be here right now and you'd never know it just talking to me. ❞

"i have no clue what we'll even find here," she said now, crouched next to a pile of rubble and dust as she sifted through what she could only describe as really cool rocks. turning on her heel, daphne flashed orion an almost shy gaze, quietly clearing her throat and lifting her chin, as if it helped her appear more relaxed, though she knew that it only made her look like a fool. "but the building's security system was taken down a few days ago, and i feel that there's no harm in giving a bit of a poke around. who knows, maybe we'll discover something amazing."

urban exploration might only be one of the several methods for field research and discovery at ( part-time data analyst and ) full-time alien hunter orion kilman's disposal ― and it's not even the most effective, oftentimes leading to trashed and crumbling buildings with little more to offer his cause than shoddy graffitied ufos and a need for a tetanus booster ― but it's certainly one of his favorites. he and daphne have become a duo of sorts, if you were to ask him ; she always seems to have the best leads, the latest intel on spots to check out. she's intelligent and quick on her feet, resourceful and adventurous. as much as orion favors solo research ( and he does, he works best alone ) even he'd have to admit he's starting to prefer the outings when she's around. her skillset complements his, and that's all there is to it... right ? by the time she speaks up, orion has found a metal ladder bolted to the side of the building for roof access ; he hasn't climbed it yet, but he's dangling from the rungs when he steals a glance over at her, palms digging into rusted steel. ❝ sometimes it's better to go in with no expectations, ❞ he says, gaze flickering toward the pile of rubble she's sifting through. ❝ no preconceived notions or ideas to influence the search. a little context is always nice, though ― what did this place used to be anyway ?❞ brows lift at the mention of a security system and orion drops to his feet, striding up to her with a grin. ❝ you really did the research on this one, huh ? sick. yeah, who knows what we'll find in there. but you know what, though ? ❞ orion reaches out and grabs her hand, abruptly rushing the both of them toward the door. ❝ there's only one way to find out ! ❞

polished nails are curled into the thick wool sleeves of a thrifted military sweater as daivat wanders the winding paths that line sea breeze meadows, the cobbled path fenced by a perimeter of towering trees in shifting shades of vermilion and gold overhead. they like to think they'd have found themself here even without the casual invitation from a particular blue-haired companion ; something about the air, the aura of autumn frequently lures a decidedly undecided dizzy out of the fitful and frustrating irresolution of their apartment. but the musician would be the first to admit that, much like misery, the decay of foliage pairs best with company and they're instantly inspired to oblige the invite. it doesn't take long for them to spot him once they've made it to the park either, a spot of vibrancy sprawled in an otherwise waning field of crisp grass, and they grin at the crunch of leaves beneath their platform-soled boots as they veer off the path toward him. ❝ in the flesh, ❞ dizzy retorts, sing-song, as they waltz right up to rex and lean down to swipe the bottle out of his hand for a swig. ❝ starting early, sonic ? what are we drinking to ? ❞ they tease as they're met with the taste of cheap malt liquor before dropping to the ground at his side in a gesture that manages to appear both practiced and clumsy. lithe limbs stretch out, heels digging into soft soil as they sit back and settle the bottle back in rex's open hand. chin tilting toward the sky, they let their gaze wander the same clouds he's studying. ❝ and, more importantly, what are we looking for ? ❞

Some days it was hard to keep up with Moth's ramblings, and Ferris found himself idly nodding along. "Was that her that said that? I don't know the name of country artists." However, at the mention of food and some relaxation, his eyes lit up. "Um absolutely that sounds fuckin' mint right now. I think we still have a couple frozen ones, but honestly I think we should just get someone to deliver it to us it always tastes way better."

❝ is she a country artist ? i didn't ― i mean, shit, your guess is as good as mine, mate, i just felt the lyrics in the moment, ❞ moth confesses with a breezy laugh. and on the matter of happiness, they're just as glad to drop the subject of work in favor of discussing food plans for the evening. sitting up, they dig heels into the carpet to drag themself toward the edge of the cushion and reach for the menus. ❝ the problem with a freezer pizza, ❞ moth starts as they thumb through the pamphlets, ❝ is that i'm going to smoke after i put it in, and then i'm inevitably gonna forget that i've put it until the smoke detector reminds me. you know ? ❞ of course ferris knows. they've lived together long enough, and moth has gone through enough fire extinguishers. ❝ what kinda toppings are you feeling tonight ? ❞

currently with a palm full of little pearly shards and a grin on his face, a soaking-wet magnus made a beeline for moth. he felt bad for them, really; they were always the first person he info-dumped on, incapable of keeping his thoughts to himself as he rambled nervously about his interests. magnus knew it was because he had a crush on the other, but instead of admitting his feelings and talking about them, he instead brought moth shiny gifts like he was some sort of crow. you win some, you lose some. "hey, look at this!" he practically sing-songed, lanky body plopping down in the sand beside moth so he could hold his offerings out to them. "we've got clams, we've got mussels, and i think we might even have an abalone? but don't quote me on that one because those are still new to me. do you wanna hold one? they're super smooth from the waves washing over them for probably years. nature is so wild to me."

it's no secret that moth is drawn to the ocean much like their namesake to a flame ; a wandering mind is often mystified by the vast abyss hidden beneath the surface, and they've lost hours sat in the sand, watching the waves break on the shoreline and imagining what creatures dance and swim beneath them. no, moth comes to the beach most days, if only for twenty minutes at very least. ( hours, though, if they've got enough to spare. ) and in that time, they've come to learn that trips to the shore are far better with good company. a fond smile tugs at their lips as gaze drifts sidelong from the water until it finds land again and, several yards away, a silhouette slouched inquisitively over a tide pool and picking intently through the puddles. magnus diamond is another source of frequent wonder for moth, a quirky mind quick to invite their curiosity in. despite his penchant for filling the airspace between them with factoids and fun conversation, moth is often convinced they've not got a clue what's actually going on in his head. what's he really thinking ? moth thinks they'd pick his brain for hours if they could. ( maybe he's not doing anything tonight... ) there's a beam bright enough to rival the gleam of the treasures clutched carefully in cupped palms illuminating their companion's face upon his fast approach and moth shifts in the sand so their back's toward the surfboard they've got wedged in a wet dune and they're sat in magnus' direction as he drops down beside them. they're excited to check out the shiny, sandy offerings as magnus thrusts them forward, palms crunching into the damp earth as they lean in for a better look. the use of the word ❛ we ❜ is not lost on moth, and they wonder as they admire the shells if they're maybe thinking into it just a touch too deep. but are they really ? after all, it wasn't them who'd sacrificed the afternoon in search of earthly treasures and yet, here they are, reaping the benefit. moth smiles at magnus as they look up from his hands, nodding. ❝ please, ❞ they say, extending their own to graciously accept the offer. careful fingertips turn over the shell to inspect it and moth pauses, nose wrinkling as a question crosses their mind. curious eyes find magnus again and they huff a sheepish breath of a laugh before managing to find their words. ❝ are they, um ― has this one still got living bits inside it ? and which one is this exactly ? ❞ and no, they're definitely not asking just to hear the excitement, the passion in magnus' answer. obviously.

there's not a sliver of a doubt in his mind: she's done this on purpose. she has to have. there's no other reason why olive baird would come strolling into paravinci's with some dweeb on her arm right in the middle of his dinner service. and to his credit, declan is no idiot. he catches on quick ; the whispers from the front of house staff aren't discreet by any means, not meant to be quiet. at first, he's half-convinced they're fucking with him, just trying to rile him up. but the sidelong glances and raised brows suggest otherwise and, wouldn't you fucking know it, he doesn't even have to step through the doors to the kitchen to see her sat at a table directly in front of the window. his temper simmers and his jaw sets and he sucks a deep breath in. fine. that's how they want to be ? fucking dandy. peachy. scooby didn't get this far in life without learning how to play a game or two of his own. and, okay, maybe it's stupid. no, it is stupid. it's not like he's a line cook anymore ; he can't go fucking up dishes and sending them out, not if he wants to keep his job. his reputation. but he can't help it, alright ? with the nerve of her parading some new boy toy around his job, ollie's lucky he didn't take a try at her dinner. ( he wouldn't, though, would he ? not something she'd be eating. he can't. food is his love language, okay ? and he's not saying that he loves her, but ― goddamnit, yeah, he does love her. in some sort of shitty, fucked up way, anyhow. ) what did she really expect he'd do when she's quite literally backed him into a corner ? not once, not twice, but the third time declan's sent the wrong meal to the pass finally seems to be enough to force them out. he expects to be relieved and doesn't know what to make of it when he finds that he's still fuming hours after she's gone, swearing under liquor-tinged breath he finishes breaking down the kitchen once service draws to a close. he drank his way through dinner and dessert, delegating most of his responsibilities to his sous chef in favor of more mindless work. ( they're a close-knit kitchen, and he knows the request is understood. they get it. ) so it's no surprise that when scooby finally stumbles through the back exit, it's with every intention of finding the closest bar that's still open and drinking himself the rest of the way to forgetting this whole shit show of a night. what does come as a surprise to scoob is that olive is not only still here, but it would appear that she's waiting for him. a gruff sound tumbles out of him, caught somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. ❝ what, you been out here this whole time, huh ? did you miss me or somethin' ? ❞ declan shakes his head, shoulders rising and falling in a clumsy half-shrug. ❝ must've fuckin' missed somethin' got you showin' up at my goddamn job ― matter of fact, fuckin' hell's that about, ollie ? ❞ he's stumbling backward now as she shoves him, his movements unsteady and exaggerated as he swings an arm out toward the alley. ❝ you know what i think ? i think you had a whole fuckin' town ― all of dagger point, which, even if you can't be arsed to drive twenty minutes in literally any fuckin' direction in this tiny ass state to go somewhere else, is still a lot of fuckin' real estate, ollie ― and you could'a picked anywhere to be happy. anywhere ! but you didn't, did you ? ❞ declan's on a roll now. ( and he always gets like this when he's drinking, doesn't he ? thinks he's got some big point to make ? except this time he actually does, okay ? he means it. ) he's stumbling back from her as he continues to shout, pacing the alley with a bourbon-fueled fervor. ❝ of course you didn't. no, instead you had to come here with motherfucking jake from state farm and parade him and his khakis around in front of my peers at my fucking job ! so what was it for ? was it to make me jealous ? or were you just trying to humiliate me ? well, mission fuckin' accomplished, hey ! good for you. is that enough to make you happy ? ❞

if rhett lingers for several ( admittedly long ) moments in the building after his brother's been escorted from the holding cell and scurried out toward the car, it's not to shoot the shit with any of the men in uniform slinging judgmental glances and snide remarks. no, rhett might have shared a drink or two at the bar with a few of these men, gone to events and functions with them and mingled with their families, but there's not a one of them at the station he'd consider a friend. instead, he makes a beeline for the nearest restroom, heaving a sigh only once the door's locked behind him. he fires off a brief but reassuring text to fern ( they'd been in the middle of a movie when he got the call that forced him off his sofa ) before finding the sink, hands curling around cool porcelain. and then he counts. slowly, deliberately, silently, in his head. ( it's one of the techniques he's learned in therapy, a way to ground himself and rein in what he's feeling until he has a chance to sort through the mess of it. sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't. he'll try anything, though, fuck. ) when he finally strides out of the police station, rhett is calm. calmer, anyway. it's clear he's still a bit bristly but if you were to ask him ? that's justified. it's been a long week — every week's a long fucking week anymore, to be fair — and if he were to make a list, surely this is one of the last places he'd like to be right now. ❝ who else are they calling, huck ? really ? ❞ rhett had always tried to make sure lydia wasn't pulled into any of their brother's trouble ― as much as he could, anyhow, but she's grown now and it's not his place to parent her. and eyre ― well, if he can't keep with the highs and lows of his brother's relationship, surely the dagger point police force isn't taking records of it either. if they want someone to pick up a drunk and disorderly huck jones, they call rhett. and right now, he's too exasperated to bother trying to mask his reaction to his brother's request. ❝ you're joking. ❞ it's not a question, but a statement. ❝ not unless you're about to try and sleep it off in the cab and sober up first, but you can do that just as well in a bed and i won't have to take your keys first. so... no. ❞ dark eyes flicker toward the road as huck flicks his cigarette and rhett's jaw twitches. don't say anything. just drop it, rhett. don't ― ❝ cigarette filters aren't biodegradable. that's just going to live there now. indefinitely. ❞ he reaches for his door then, tugs it open as he looks back at his brother. ❝ so do you want a ride home ? i'll come back and take you to pick up your truck in a couple of hours. ❞

there's a marlboro red hanging precariously from parted lips as the heel of a boot kicks the stand on the left side of his bike down secure against the black top, unlit and balanced between his teeth. gage rolls his shoulders back and cranes his neck to crack it, grunting past the filter as he starts toward the open bay doors at the front of the shop. a wicked grin splits his features at his brother's bristly greeting and gage reaches to catch the cigarette that tumbles from his lips, tucking it back behind one ear. ( don't need one now, he thinks with a roll of his eyes as he's submerged in a cloud of smoke, just gotta breathe a little deeper. ) gage laughs as he strolls into the shop, unfazed by his brother's irritation. ❝ we might've both fell out the ugly tree, but 'least your big, bumbling ass cleared a path for me going down first. damn near hit every branch on the way, too, didn'tcha ? ❞ crossing the shop to breezily stride up to his brother, gage gives him a playful smack on the cheek. ❝ relax, alright ? i'm here now, we'll clear this shit out in a couple of hours, no problem. ❞ it's decidedly easy to get straight to work as gage rolls a stool up to the nearest bike and he only glances at bash when he's questioned. ❝ not my fault, man. only reason it took the later shift's so scar's got a chance to get out the house during waking hours without having to drag the gremlin along with her, ❞ gage explains, and to his credit, he's being truthful. ❝ i came over soon as she got home, but i'm not gonna rush her neither, you know ? she was already out. didn't realize you were in the fuckin' weeds when you called or i'd have just packed maxie up and brought her with. ❞

feeling his gaze on her now, isobel paused what she was doing and lifted her head, eyes meeting his and causing a soft smile to tug at her lips. it always happened when he looked at her, and easy smile overtaking everything else no matter what she was feeling at the time. she had to resist the urge to lean in and close the gap between them, suddenly craving the taste of fresh cigarette smoke and dark roasted coffee. if isobel had her way, she'd spend every single day attached to jo in some way, shape, or form, but even she knew how unreasonable that was, especially considering they both had lives outside of each other. however, his question threw her off guard, and suddenly she was sitting up, her notebook falling to the dock as she turned to look at him. "wait," she began, her eyebrows tugged together in both curiosity and surprise. had he really just asked her to move in with him? it wasn't like she didn't practically live there anyway, but with hudson around she knew that moving in officially could get tricky. maybe he'd already talked to him about it. "are you being serious right now? if you're not being serious, i'm gonna have to ask you not to toy with my emotions like that." her head shook, but not because she was saying no, but because she was still trying to wrap her head around the whole thing. "i---are you really asking me to move in with you?"

lips twist up into an almost wicked grin for a split second at her retort but josiah has the audacity to shift gears just as quickly, disguising his amusement behind an air of dramatic perplexity ; his nose wrinkles and he huffs out a dismissive breath, laughter struggling to stay hidden beneath his airy, wordless reaction. ❝ what're you gettin' at, huh ? ❞ the fingers resting on her hip poke playfully, disturbing the otherwise relaxing stillness that's settled over their company. ❝ you tryin' to say i got bad ideas ? ❞ josiah leans back, shifts so he can fix his gaze on hers, prodding for an answer. ❝ or is it that i got a dirty mind or somethin' ? is that what this is ? ❞ an actual laugh tumbles out of him then, but he doesn't deny either of the accusations he's laid upon himself. instead, jo takes another drag from his cigarette and uses the time it gives him to appreciate her words. not only the sentiment behind them, but the feeling in his gut that he can trust when she says them. he can trust her. it's been a long while since anybody's had time for his thoughts ; well, anyone outside of hudson. to be fair, josiah has no reason to expect the conversation will go poorly, even if she does say no. ( but would she ? how many nights a week is she spending tangled in his sheets anyhow ? what's a few more and a place to put her stuff ? ) that said, his question clearly comes as surprise enough to elicit her full attention, and he remains steady even as she twists in his arms to better face him. sharp cerulean gaze darts briefly to the dock as her notebook falls, quick to make sure it doesn't flutter off the side and into the water, before he looks back at her. and is she ― does she think he's fucking with her ? that he doesn't mean it ? quite frankly, he's not sure he's ever meant anything more. it's almost anxiety-inducing, the level of conviction he has about it all. ( don't let him fool you with almosts ― josiah moore is scared. ) he sucks down another drag of his cigarette, self-soothing, and tries to figure out how he'll frame these assurances, convince her of his sincerity. ❝ does a fish shit in the ocean ? 'course i'm serious. why wouldn't i be serious ? ❞ josiah locks eyes with izzie then, nods a bit as if to emphasize his veracity. ❝ unless you don't wanna ― i mean, i get, livin' on a boat ain't everybody's cup a' tea, and livin' with us two, no less, but ― well, if that's the case, i was just messin' around and we could, uh... we just could forget i asked. ❞ the fisherman pauses, suddenly a bit sheepish as he tries to keep his gaze on hers even as it longs to drop toward the dock. does he not want to see what she thinks ? ❝ but if y'did, i could have you moved in by this weekend. i, um ― i already talked to hudson about it. couple of times now, actually, and i know they ain't always too keen on change ― me neither, really ― but i think that havin' you around more often would be a nicer change. for the both of us, y'know ? and for you too, maybe. ❞