T H E O B A I L E Y

Every time she noticed Theo's actions around Evrim and Safiye, and vice versa, there was a part of her soul that died. It'd been just them for the longest time. Both had been through unspeakable things before they were adopted by their parents, after all. Then, suddenly, two perfect strangers show up with evidence that they are Nilay's biological siblings. For Nilay, as scared as she had been at first letting them in, she knew that they had been telling her the truth. It'd been impossible to try and pretend otherwise. And fortunately, her parents had been ready to welcome them into the family. Theo, however... Nile wasn't ignorant nor oblivious, though she greatly wished, naively, that things were better than this. "Sooner rather than later, you're going to admit how much you love that 'awful hound' and I'll be here, smirking, calling it," she mused teasingly. Though, she wasn't just talking about Cerberus at this point. And she hoped that he realized that as well.

After filling up her tulip tea cup, she moved the tea pot over to her brother. The silence between them... Of course she hated it. Of course she hated keeping her thoughts about his latest desire to herself. But how could she tell him gently without risking hurting him in the end? And Dylan: if she were to hear, would she also be hurt? Her concerns weren't about the art curator herself. No, in a different scenario and in a time further on from here, Nilay would've been over the moon with her brother's words and ask what she could do to help. But... That was the issue here. Time. She believed that they needed more time before such a life-altering decision. Cautiously sipping her tea, she closed her eyes at his words. Swallowing thickly before placing her cup back down on its saucer.

Theo felt the weight of Nilay’s hand on his, grounding but also unsettling. She looked tired—exhausted, really—and hearing her list off everything she’d been juggling made him feel a pang of guilt for adding to her plate. He hadn’t realized just how much she had going on, though he should have known. Nilay had a habit of overloading herself, and he suspected she wasn’t being entirely honest about how much it was affecting her. He squeezed her hand lightly, offering a small smile. “A headless chicken, you say? Hardly. You make it look like a perfectly choreographed dance.” He tried to keep his tone light, though his eyes softened with concern. “Though if you keep it up, you might actually turn into one. You’re burning the candle at both ends, Nil. Even with the institute and all your other brilliant projects, you’re still a person, you know. You need rest.”

He paused, his gaze flickering to the tea she’d pushed toward him. He busied himself pouring a cup, buying himself a moment. “I’m sorry if I’ve added to the chaos,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to pile on.” He turned to her then, his expression open but guarded, readying himself for whatever she might say next. He set his mug down on the counter and turned slightly to face her. He knew her better than most; he could tell there was something in her voice. "I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bracing myself. You don’t usually handle me with kid gloves unless it’s something that’s going to sting.” It was a weak attempt at humour, but it was the best he could muster. He didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t say what she needed to, but he also wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear it. “I’m listening,” he said simply, his tone steady but edged with vulnerability. “I always do when it’s you.” The way he said it carried an unspoken plea: just don’t tell me I’m making a mistake.

Still, she chuckled at his question, glancing down at the cards for a moment. "Well, they are open to interpretation, so I suppose you could be right. But I find tarot leans more into the abstract than the tangible."

She let him sit with that for a moment as her fingers danced over the second card. She flipped it, revealing the King of Pentacles. She racked her brain to remember specifics, but she let instinct guide her.

"Now here," she tapped the card, "this is about security, stability— the mark of someone who is responsible, grounded, and prepared. I’d say you’re more ready for this role than you give yourself credit for. And, as for your father," her voice softened just slightly, "this might also suggest that some of his strengths and his influence run through you, whether you see it or not. There’s a legacy you’re carrying, Theo. It's up to you whether you think those things are worthy of carrying on to the next generation. But you've got all the tools that you need."

Her mention of legacy, though, made him pause. The idea struck a chord, one he wasn’t entirely ready to admit. “Carrying on a legacy,” he mused, his voice quieter now, as if he were testing the words out. Whose legacy? “It’s strange to think about. I’ve spent so much time running from all of it. But... I won't say it doesn't make sense, which is... Creepy to say the least." He chuckled. The cards were feeling a bit too real. Then he shrugged. "Maybe it’s not all bad. Maybe there’s something worth passing on.” He straightened in his seat, the faintest glimmer of determination breaking through his usual nonchalance.

Theo leaned forward, tapping the edge of the third card. “Alright, what’s next? Give me something juicy. If this one’s all rainbows and stability too, I’ll start thinking you’re making this up.” His grin returned, playful yet tinged with anticipation.

He was doing it for his sister. There wasn't anything on this earth he wouldn't do for Daphne. Which includes playing along with her idealistic whims and quixotic fairytales. "Let me guess, girlfriend? wife? convinced you it'd be worth it to freeze your balls off in the Midwest. Something about Blue Harbor's.... idyllic charm gets her going. Honestly, sucks to be you." The only thing more nauseating to him than listening to his sister compare the six different settings on her vibrator (thanks to paper thin walls) is being around people in love. Ledger would sooner cut his dick off with a pair of scissors before he succumbs to the doom awaiting him were he to ever enter into a relationship, willingly. "No rituals necessary, though. I run hot." Maybe that's why he sleeps naked. Even in the dead of winter. ( @theobailey )

Theo tilted his head, studying him curiously. “You must be a local treasure—keeping things hot while the rest of us slowly freeze to death. Let me guess, you’re the type who thrives on being a human furnace and thinks scarves are for the weak?” He chuckled, the grin softening into something more genuine. “Or maybe you’re just here to make the rest of us look bad?”

“From what I know about you, Bailey, you can pack up to those sun-drenched islands you crave. There’s entire continents that don’t experience snow or ice all year long.” True, Roman was in the same boat, but he quite liked the obvious changing of the seasons. A sympathetic grimace — his smiles were only ever reserved for Toni and Ophelia — was plastered on his features, eyes following Theo’s glance at the legs, his own arm numb in what he imagined was sympathy. “Uncooperative lumps of rebellion, sounds like you’re describing my staff.” And he snorted. “Which is partly the reason I’m out here. Before I hit them over the head with a kick drum. And yourself?”

He paused, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Though, I’ll admit, I’m mildly intrigued by the idea of you taking down your staff with a kick drum. Very rock and roll of you. Got a venue in mind, or is it an exclusive in-store performance?” He tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. “As for you, Daniels, if the staff rebellion’s that dire, maybe I should lend you one of the twins for morale training. They’ve got a knack for ruling with an iron fist—or a very loud wail. Guaranteed results, though possibly at the cost of your sanity.”

Theo unzipped his own jacket, revealing a simple sweater that was far more fashion-forward than functional. “I suppose I’ve failed every step of your survival guide—my wardrobe leans more toward ‘artful suffering’ than actual warmth. Maybe you could offer consultations? I’d hate for the labyrinth I’ve been building at my new place to turn into a frozen monument because its owner didn’t heed local wisdom.” Then Theo frowned, considering the idea. "Although that vision isn't too bad. Poetically speaking, of course." He let out a chuckle, gesturing vaguely outside. “So, the eternal question—do you ever get used to it, or do you just… endure?”

He glances up and it takes a moment to register that it's Theo speaking to him, and that his own complaints have indeed been voiced aloud. “Oh, uh- well, you know. Gardening. Being outside kinda comes with the territory. You get used to being prepared. We had pretty shitty winters in Vermont too, I guess I'm just used to it.” It helps, he thinks, that his default wardrobe is mostly made up of thick plaid regardless of the season. Layers have always been Jack's friends. Extra armour, his mother used to tease. “You gotta get yourself some decent gloves, man. Frostbite's no joke.”

His grin softened as he studied Jack’s bundled-up appearance. “But truly, mate, how do you do it? Out there all day, battling wind and ice like some garden warrior. Is it just years of Vermont winters toughening you up, or is there a secret gardener’s ritual I need to learn? Because it just never gets any better for me.”

"The trick is to find a really chic-looking pair of leather gloves, lined with something lovely like cashmere, and then you'll want to wear them all year. But holding onto coffee works too," she smiled.

She was sure her smile visibly faltered with his comment on questioning the choices that brought them here, but she sipped her own coffee and ignored it as always.

"I think my preparation is just five years in San Francisco. It never gets particularly cold there, but never hot either. Just a slight chill in the air all year round. Definitely teaches you about layering and where to get scarves and hats that don't make you look like a toddler in one of those snowsuits that makes them all wobbly," she laughed. "But that being said... if you do migrate south, please bring me with you."

Her laugh was infectious, and he shook his head, mock-serious. “But really, if I do migrate, I can send you instructions. The world needs more people who can survive an endless spring and still look decent in a hat. Just imagine, sipping something tropical, toes in the sand. The only frostbite you’d have to worry about would be in overly air-conditioned cafes.” He tilted his head, his grin softening. “So what’s keeping you here, then? Aside from impeccable scarf choices and the occasional chat with a coffee-fumbling stranger?”

“See, I missed that memo. I wasn’t born and raised in this. Dropped into it, maybe. Like someone thought it’d be a good joke to send the sun-loving Mediterranean orphan to the Midwest.” He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly at the bitter heat. “Although I’ll admit, it does make you lot impressively durable. What’s next? You going to tell me you can shovel snow shirtless, or does the bloodline not cover that level of insanity?” He tilted his head, studying the other man with genuine curiosity. “But seriously, you ever actually try that Scandinavia thing? Napping outside? Or is it strictly a ‘heard it from a friend of a friend’ sort of fact?”

He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly at the still-scalding temperature, then sighed. “You’re lucky, though. You're used to it. Me? I’m a fraud. I’m built for sun-drenched islands and balmy evenings. Stick me in a place like this, and suddenly my legs turn into these uncooperative lumps of rebellion.” He glanced down briefly, his tone light but the confession cutting deeper. Tilting his head, he studied Roman with mock seriousness. “But what’s the reason you’re braving the cold today, Daniels? Surely not just to show off your superior winter layering skills.”

Theo's eyes flickered down to the cover, catching on the author's name. He felt a flush of recognition. "Behar," he said, narrowing his eyes almost in disbelief. “Oh, for God’s sake—I should’ve made the connection.” He chuckled, recalling hazy memories of their families’ get-togethers, marked by endless debates and enough shared stories to fill a bookshelf. He had a vague memory of Juno; Theo's teenage years had been marked by episodes of extreme anxiety and most of those memories had been lost throughout the years. "My attention is obviously not the same. I'm growing dreadfully old." Theo made a face. He tapped the cover thoughtfully, eyebrows raised in genuine admiration. “And you wrote this. I had no idea. Well, all my compliments—you’ve made my dad duty infinitely more thrilling.” There was a pause as he looked them over with renewed interest. “But first, wait--what do you mean you've never asked people what they think about your book? How is that possible? I could never show this much self restraint. I need to know this before I recommend you anything at all."

She chuckled softly as Leda tried to repeat after her and said her first word again. "They are much more charmin' than I could ever be. Definitely they get that from you, my love." Dylan teases as she watches him move towards them, she feels comfortable enough to move once their little grips on her pants loosened as they were distracted by Theo's presence. Placing the last of the clothes into the drawers, she was happy to give the moment her full attention. "Aw c'mon, they love both of us very much." She hoped that the twins would still love them both very much as they grew up. It was certainly a fear that she knew was pretty unfounded in reality to be worried about. Her brows raised at the threat of getting their children a pony. "I mean if ya want to, we could build a stall for Johnny Boy too and then you'd have to let them learn how to ride." Dylan smirked, knowing that thought would worry Theo so much and he would probably take back the idea. Her smirk softened into a smile and then turned to a small frown as he shared with her his fears. "That sounds more like a self-fulfilling prophecy than the reality, Theo." She shared gently as she didn't want him to think that there was a type of man that was prone to leave or not leave. Moving into Theo's touch, Dylan wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close to her as she knew that whatever decision he made would be hard. Letting her fingers drag up and down his shoulder blade, she inhaled and closed her eyes. "I love you so much, Theo. And I know you wouldn't, I don't doubt you."

But then a sound—soft, almost imperceptible—caught his attention. A rustle of movement, followed by a tiny, determined grunt. He turned, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Leda gripping the edge of the baby table they were too young to use, her little legs trembling beneath her. “Dylan…” His voice was barely a whisper, his hand lightly squeezing her arm. “Look at her.” Leda wobbled on unsteady legs, her small hands releasing the table as she tottered forward. One step. Then another. Theo’s jaw dropped, his disbelief giving way to a burst of elation. “She’s walking!” he exclaimed, his voice a little too loud in his excitement. Startled, Leda froze mid-step, her wide eyes locking on his. The moment stretched for a heartbeat, then her little legs gave out, and she plopped down onto her bum with a soft thud. “Oh no!” Theo winced, immediately crouching down. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my brave little star.” He reached out, his hands gentle as he scooped her up, cradling her close.

Leda’s initial surprise quickly melted into a pout, her lower lip quivering as she processed the tumble. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Theo murmured, rocking her slightly. “You were brilliant, love. Absolutely brilliant.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice full of admiration. “Two steps? That’s more than I managed at your age. In fact, it's more than I can manage now.” He looked up at Dylan, his grin sheepish but filled with awe. “Did you see that? Two whole steps. I mean, I might’ve ruined the moment, but still…” He trailed off, his smile softening as he gazed at Leda, who was now clutching his shirt, her tiny hands already forgetting the scare in favor of tugging at the fabric. “She’s fearless,” he said, his voice quieter now. “She’s got your determination, Dylan.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment before returning to Leda. “Next time, I’ll cheer quieter. Promise.”

If Safiye had been a different breed, she might have spat at his feet. It was a low blow, even for him, though she didn't exactly know if he knew how deeply those words affected her. Could he have known just how tragically she was treated by her own kin? She wanted to think otherwise, that he was shrewd but not at all omniscient. "Aren't we?" she repeated after him, though her voice carried it much softer—nearly inaudibly. She wished she could have hated Theo more for other things—for anything, really, other than that he also despised her and showed it more often.

Patience. As if she weren't already being that enough since they'd most unfortunately crossed paths. "I'm sure I will, too," she responded, a little eagerly since she was actually quite excited about how far she'd come with the relationship she'd built with Nilay. She was fairly certain she was in agreement about the Bailey matriarch and patriarch, too; he and Nilay's parents had welcomed her in warmly since her proper arrival to Blue Harbor. Even with their every kindness and how badly she wanted it to be so, Safiye knew she would never feel that they could replace her parents. No, no. Her parents had a special place, and it was nowhere near her heart—meanwhile the Baileys...the Baileys could find a way. Well, most of them, anyway.

"Of course. Laurel Village. You know, I'm positive she mentioned it but I just couldn't recall. It's been a lot of long nights," she responded defensively, nearly—just nearly—rolling her eyes at his remarks which lacked all subtlety in that moment. "Oh yeah, I just might be." The thought quite honestly terrified her. Save for Theo, everyone in the Bailey band seemed to receive Safiye's presence well, but she had really only encountered them one at a time leading up until now. To have them all in the same room, she feared, would only highlight just how alone she was. Even the in-laws could at least cling to the Bailey that belonged with them. But Safiye? She would just float among them, probably bouncing around to whoever fed her the most conversation at any given time. "Well, due for it, I think is another way to put it, right?" It wasn't that she didn't receive invitations from Nilay but she hadn't exactly felt ready to accept until that moment. Until the one person of the group who seemed to detest her could tolerate to extend that invite, she supposed.

After a beat, he added, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, “You’ve got thick skin, though. I’ll give you that. Guess my sister wouldn’t put you up for it if you didn’t.” He watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. “And if anyone challenges you to one of my mother’s dinner debates, fair warning—it’s ruthless. Best to keep your wits about you, Safiye.” He couldn’t quite resist adding, as if he needed to make sure she remembered her place, “But then again, that shouldn’t be anything new to you, should it?”

luckily, the man sitting at the bar was evidently entertained, turning her one-woman show into a duet. tefi grinned encouragingly, head swaying along as he sang the next line. the rest of the bar joined in for the last few bars, so tefi extended her hand into the air so the microphone would capture everyone’s voice as she sang along. in these moments where the alcohol fuzzed up her brain and no one was actively telling her to fuck off, she felt something akin to euphoria. like the karaoke bar wasn’t just a bar, it had turned into valhalla with neon lights and a disco ball spinning up above. that’s what heaven was to her, like the dancing scenes from saturday night fever or boogie nights. where it was the ‘70s forever, and the harsh realities of the world didn’t exist anymore. that was the thing, though. the song always ended, and the neon lights would be turned off in favor of bright overhead lighting. in the end, valhalla would turn back into earth, and tefi would have to go home. “you were brilliant, darling!” tefi exclaimed excitedly. she was mostly just happy someone was willing to play along. the bartender behind her motioned for her to give back the mic, which she did reluctantly. she flashed them a small pout before she turned her attention back to her duet partner. “i’m tefi. i don’t believe we’ve met.”

“Well, that was quite the show you put on.” He took a sip of his drink, savoring the burn. “Not many people can turn an ABBA karaoke session into a full-blown performance—and I would know. Spent some time singing to bored pub patrons myself, years ago.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly at the memory. “I'm Theo, by the way. But don’t worry, I’m not here to steal the spotlight; I learned my lesson about trying to play the rockstar.” Leaning in slightly, he added with a grin, “Though, if I ever need a stage partner for a dramatic encore, I’ll know I should call... I don't remember hearing your name when they announced it?”

“Ah, family, fatherhood, and a proposal. Going straight for the big ones, aren’t we?” She smirked, but her hands moved with a practiced grace, dealing out three cards and turning them face down, one by one, with a hint of ceremony.

She held his gaze, her expression unreadable as she flipped the first card. The Ten of Cups revealed itself, the image of a family basking in a rainbow of cups above them. Perfect. Even without actually knowing much about tarot, this card felt like a gift. Ten of Cups, Ten of Cups, what did she remember about Ten of Cups? "Well, now," Opal said, letting a hint of intrigue slip into her tone. "This is a powerful card for family. It speaks of harmony and emotional fulfillment. If you’re looking for signs of fatherhood— your role as a father, your relationship with your own— it’s saying you’re on a path to bring that unity and happiness full circle. There’s something… beautifully complete about it."

She eyed him carefully, trying to gauge his reactions and filter out if she was giving him what he wanted. She smiled pleasantly, invitingly. "Are you ready for the next card? Or do you wanna sit in this one for a minute?"

Looking back up, he smiled, though the grin was a touch more reserved, thoughtful. “Unity. It’s a nice thought, I’ll give you that.” He glanced at the remaining cards, his hand resting on the edge of the table, fingers tapping softly. “Let’s go on, then. I’m curious what else fate has to say for me tonight.” He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this next card might be a bit closer to home. Something that wasn’t all picture-perfect rainbows, maybe—a little rougher around the edges.