believer / quivering.

It was as though Catherine Swarovski had a section in her closet filled with ideas when it comes to ways on convincing her daughter to come back to Austria ––- which is something she had been trying to do since Astoria graduated, at least twice a week. A message from her mother popped up that caused her to chuckle. “Apparently my mother is dying,” she said with a small smile. But then she quickly looked up and realized that it came out all wrong. “No, it’s not real! She’s not really dying.” Astoria managed a small laugh and quickly corrected herself. “It’s one of her tricks to convince me to come back home so she can trap me there for the rest of my life.”

Theo’s gaze quirked up at Astoria from his place at the table, eyes that were previously trained and focused on the article in front of him. He quirked a single brow, mild amusement crossing his features after the moment of confusion from her words. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard something of this kind of dramatics slip from her lips regarding her mother, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last from what he’d been told previously about her. He chuckled idly, tossing his phone down, abandoning it and the article – a lost cause now, he figured. “Is that so?” he questioned, arms rising above his head in a stretch, a yawn falling from his lips. “She’s getting more creative with her means of luring you home. You sure one day you won’t crack?” he questioned, though it was more of a joking nature than anything.

“If I have to hear this guy talk much more about how much money he made the other day, I think I’ll fill up half his drink with water. Sound good?” Maverick tapped his fingers on the bar, looking across at the person sitting there. “I bet he stuffs a couple of Benjamin’s down his pants to make his dick look bigger, too. Rich people.”

“Shit.” Kian mumbled to herself, a string of muttered curses falling from her lips to follow - thirty years living in the same city and she still had trouble finding her way around. Approaching the closest person to her she cleared her throat in attempt to get their attention. “Hi, I’m so sorry to disturb you, but would you know the way to…” she trailed, hues quickly scanning over the address on her phone. “Danceworks Studio? I was supposed to be there an hour ago, I don’t even know why I’m trying anymore, heh.”

With eyes hidden behind sunglasses, for protection from the sun and to hide the bags below them, he drags his gaze from his phone up to the voice. A half-smirk rises on his lips, one of amusement and intrigue. How long has she lived in this city for? “You know better than me at this stage; just how long have you lived here for?” a chuckle slips from his lips idly, shaking his head, “Perhaps Google should become your best friend in this case, I know the directions to my house the hospital and a few coffee shops, that’s about it. What are you headed there for, anyway?”

                                      Loneliness had gnawed at the left over love that once been threaded in the lining of his stomach, forcing himself to dwell in his own company - residing to independence. Still, he plasters on his character with smoke and mirrors; carving self love from fear of rejection. “We should’ve gone to Eleven, Butter is so Blasé. I don’t know why you still insist on coming here.”