walking out of the building, she heard the familiar voice of romy in the distance. taking a few steps, she keeps a bit of distance between the other girl. "hi," she mutters out. "so, what did you need to tell me?"

for a moment she considered trying to usher the other into her car. they didn't need to do this here, in the parking lot, in front of security. but sav's stance was firm and the seconds were ticking by. "dario," romy managed to say after a couple long seconds, his name practically a squeak by the time it lifted from her tongue. "he, uh—" she sniffled and took a step forward, chin angling off to the side and gaze landing elsewhere until she settled into place. "he was attacked." her eyes cut back to sav's, her head shook. "he didn't make it."

"Ro, I'm so sorry." She said with an exhale. "Honestly, I'd like it if you did take a class, or hell, I can teach you. We can go down to the gym, and we can throw a few punches. You remember how good I was at boxing and wrestling." He was her fathers first born son in a way. But that was also why Damian had heart eyes for Romy, his other little girl, who loved little girl things. He was the kind of dad who leaned into all of his children's interests.

Soph followed her sister and put the bags down, "Me? I'm... I'm okay." She said with an exhale. "I kinda fucked up some, but I think it's settled out now. But I don't think you want to hear about my baby daddy drama."

soph then answered her question and something swelled in romy's chest. while her heartrate was known to pickup at the mention of drama or gossip, this wasn't the delightful jolt of a nosy desire to know all. it felt like relief, like closeness. like a brick in the wall that'd gone up between them had fallen away. sure, romy had more so meant to angle her question towards club things—how soph was handling the string of violence, how the group had reacted to another death, if it weighed on her—but she'd take what she could get. she'd lean into what she was good for. in a voice even more hushed than before, she prompted with raised brows, "fucked up or just fucked?" with charlie finally, hopefully, out of the picture, it wasn't the most out of pocket question to ask.

only, what antonio voiced wasn't rational. perhaps there'd been reason to believe it was before, but given all recent context, romy was surprised to have his rigid protests meet her ears. retaliation, the riders. she watched him move about, now on his feet, and her jaw tensed at the outright blame. still, no other part of her flinched, even as that broken glass met the bar with a forceful thud. it was actually a relief to see him react, a clear sign of humanity. antonio wasn't a god and romy wasn't a cursed oracle, as much as they might, at times, feel like that was the case. they were so fallibly human.

it was that fact that struck her most of all when he spoke of his sister and their shared memory from younger years; when he turned to face her, the bearer of grim news, again. not his reputation that she'd glimpsed over the years. sadness pulled his muscles taut, flashed wildly in his gaze. a refusal to unravel and a body that wouldn't listen. romy drew a deep breath and held his stare for a couple seconds, a tear skimming her cheek she didn't move to wipe away. she'd thought to voice a retort against his suspicions; the clear rivalry stubbornness that was blocking, from her standpoint, sensible thought. now, instead, "seems a silly thing to tease her for." a frank statement delivered in a soft tone. too conversational to be chastising, but nonetheless honest, with or without recent events.

romy, at her core, wasn't what anyone would describe as soft. there was a deep, dark well of emotion that stirred just beneath her skin, but it was far more torrential than timid. perceptive and naively headstrong. still, both elements brought her to her feet, then a step in antonio's direction, then another. she didn't approach him as though he was an injured coyote that'd wondered into her yard, cautious and having to convince him she wasn't a threat. nor did she move with reverence reserved for a god. when her arms wrapped around his neck in am embrace it was with a sort of plainness she figured had to be rare for someone in his position. plain understanding, plain relatability. a yeah, this fucking sucks and it can just suck for a minute without needing to be picked apart sensibility. when was the last time he could relate to someone over anything? had he chosen or been set down a path that made grief and strife and vendettas the only vehicle for it? had her own sister, soph, recently been set down it, too?

he could shove her away or stab her in the back with the bar mixing spoon and she wouldn't regret the action she'd taken. even if there might be consequences of her own to come.

when the officer approaches asking for the statement, zahir feels the shift immediately. the professional line snapping back into place around him whether he wants it to or not. he knows how this looks already. lead detective on scene comforting a witness he’s related to, refusing to leave her side. some departments would’ve shoved him off the case already just for this. but rift valley wasn’t some faceless city precinct. these people knew him. they knew he cared too much sometimes. knew he carried victims home with him in ways he probably shouldn’t. still, he can already hear the future criticism in the back of his mind. too emotionally involved. too close to witnesses. he ignores it. romy turns toward him for guidance and his expression softens immediately, protective instincts outweighing politics without hesitation. “i know,” he murmurs quietly when he sees the fear flash across her face again. his hand slides up to the back of her head briefly, grounding and reassuring before he pulls back enough so she can see him clearly. “listen to me.” his tone stays low, steady, impossible not to trust. “you’re not in trouble. you’re not a suspect right now. you’re a witness. but they need to know what you saw, okay?” he pauses just long enough to make sure she’s still with him before continuing. “and i’ll be right there the entire time. every second of it.” there’s no hesitation in the promise. professionally questionable or not, he isn’t leaving her alone in this. “you can take your time. if you need a break, you say so. but you have to do this, romy.” his gaze softens again, aching with compassion. “you’re helping us catch whoever did this.”

when all the reassurances had been said, romy nodded in understanding and rolled out her shoulders like she was slumping off a big, heavy coat. then, she turned towards the officer and offered her a few quick nods as well.

over the next few minutes, romy described what'd happened. what'd only taken place maybe twenty minutes ago, but felt already etched into her memory like a monumental childhood experience. closing the bar, the seemingly normal alleyway, josephina's body meeting the toe of her shoe. the knife she'd stumbled over, all of the blood. nothing they probably hadn't already gathered. in fact, while romy had found it hard to look away from the other young woman, she knew instantly that she hadn't really looked at anything aside from her face, her hands. they already knew more than she did, she was sure of it, and a need for answers made her turn to look over her shoulder in search of them. of course, the small crowd made an already futile attempt a total failure.

there were a few follow-up questions, but soon enough it came to a point where romy was just... told she could go. that she should go, should sleep. both hands ran over her face, then into the roots of her hair. when her grasp met the back of her head she just stood there, eyes on the ground. part of her wanted to stay, to see them zip up and haul off josephina's body for examining. it wasn't smart, though, nor good for her. she knew she had to carefully peel her heavy feet from the concrete and asphalt and go. her eyes—two hazely, glassy marbles—found zahir's again and both arms dropped back to her sides. "can you drive me home? i think they're—i think i'm done."

“You say that like I’d ever tell you no,” she replied smoothly once the music swallowed them into the crowd, her voice lowering naturally beneath the heavy bass vibrating through the club. Asena followed Romy easily, eyes unapologetically roaming over her as the lights painted shifting colors across her skin. Beautiful. That much had never changed. Asena settled close once they reached the dance floor, one hand finding Romy’s waist while the other remained laced with hers. She wasn’t the kind of dancer people stopped and stared at for technical skill, but she understood rhythm, understood confidence, understood exactly how to move in a way that kept attention fixed on her. More importantly, she understood how to make someone feel wanted. “Careful,” she teased lightly as she moved with the beat beside her, leaning just close enough for her lips to nearly brush Romy’s ear. “You keep looking at me like that and I’m going to start thinking you missed me.” The smirk that followed was slow and satisfied, especially when she felt the closeness between them tighten again. For now, Asena was content to let Romy lead her deeper into the music like some beautiful guide to ruin. And honestly? If she played this correctly, she fully intended to be the reason Romy left with shaky knees by the end of the night.

the brunette's hand settled at her waist and, like a leaf falling to the ground, romy's own landed on asena's shoulder. or, more accurately, closer to the crook of her neck. gentle, but confident. not lacking intent. it ached to play with her hair, eyes zeroing in on the spot for a few lingering seconds. no shield, no shame. they both seemed to fall into a rhythm that inveigled them into staying close, romy with no mind for the thick crowd around them.

when asena leaned in to speak in her ear, her light grasp on her shoulder firmed slightly. like, despite a motion here or there, she was determined not to lose her or their proximity. and when asena pulled back some, romy was already deploying a kittenish look. chin tilted, eyes looking directly at hers. "i did miss you." simple, almost casual, though everything outside of tone would suggest otherwise. it was one tactic to play it coy, to deny and, perhaps, try and make her admit it first. it was another entirely to be bold when someone might expert you not to be. to dance between vague and glaringly straightforward. a beat passed and romy rolled her eyes playfully. "now admit you missed me."

a few moments pass as romy went off to grab something to write with, sav taking a few more sips from her coffee. "y'know," the blonde suggested, taking her one free hand to grab the drink sleeve and put it in her bag. "i'll pinky promise you won't get anti-social savannah for an night. i fuckin' swear on it too."

"i actually can't really hang around," she picked up, adjusting the bag strap on her shoulder and turning some towards the nearest door. "but i'll see you soon—and think up a good song before then."

Perched in a room full of hopefuls, the ruby-haired siren sat elegantly in her chair, manicured digits coiling a golden locket that lay in the dip of her neck. She could feel it before spotting it; the heat of prying eyes, melting into her from across the diminutive pathway between chairs. Thick lashes flutter as her gaze rises to meet her admirer. Had the young lady recognized her from her younger years on the big screen? Or was she sizing up the competition?

"Oh, please, don't be. I've never been one to shy away from a good gawking. It's flattering." With an elvish shrug, Sawyer offered up a fulgurous simper. There was something in the catacombs of her mind that itched, suggesting she might be familiar with the female as well, but she couldn't for the life of her place the other. "Yes, actually. I'm there five days a week." Ha, maybe that was it? She'd noticed the beauty in the crowd once or twice, perhaps.

"You happen to find yourself yearning for a little stage time often?" The question is accompanied by a curious tilt of her head. "What role do you desire? Forgive me, I can't help but be nosy."

confirmation had romy's head nodding once, twice. she'd been right—she had seen the young woman opposite of her before. a couple times, now that she thought about it, though the second was less so as an audience member and more so in passing on the way to the slots. romy wasn't much one for gambling, but she'd dip in with a friend or five when they were feeling lucky.

"stage, set," she answered the mystifying stranger with another short nod. "anywhere i can slip into someone else's skin." it only really registered with her after she'd answered how consistently lyrical the other was in speech. gawk, yearn, desire. it was vivid—she was, immediately, vivid. more so than even her shade of hair. then, "not nosy at all." at least, not in an unusual way. everyone in the space was probably curious over the same thing. "i know she doesn't get nearly as much stage time, but johanna's probably my top. though, that soprano's up there, so i absolutely wouldn't scoff at mrs. lovett, either. especially with how much she gets to let loose. get crazy." an actor's dream. "what about you?"

this patriarchal, unfeeling society made pity an ugly thing; a thing to sneer at and reject. pity, though, was sympathy. no—empathy. the capacity to feel—not feel for, but feel—the sorrows of even the most unlikely person. romy watched as he leaned forward in his seat, her fingers tapping idly against the glass she now held, and decided she would give him the answers he sought. the answers she had, anyway, whether or not they were the ones he was desperate for.

she nodded, the two of them leaned forward to varying degrees in their chairs, and inhaled a deep breath. when she exhaled, she let the release carry her back to the back of her seat. romy's eyes settled on something over his shoulder, just perceptively past meeting eye-lines, like she was already rewatching the late night play out on some invisible screen.

"i closed up and left salty sometime around three-thirty. though, it's probably worth mentioning that, the entire time i'd been closing up, things were quiet. i mean," she squinted, as though aware of the thought for the first time, "i hadn't even been playing my own music," an odd happenstance, "and everything was just covered by this blanket of calm." despite its novelty, romy didn't linger on the thought, blinking it away like a windshield wiper did a sheet of rain. "i'm sure by now you're aware of the alleyway right next to the place. there are a few parking spots on the opposite end of it, all lined up, and, if you get the timing right—which is to say, before the evening or after 1AM—you can usually get lucky with an open spot or two. otherwise it's constantly full. it's maybe four spots total." her head turned just a smidge, eyes meeting his for a quick beat as if to say, yeah, i've analyzed those odds, too. she'd analyzed everything. whether or not the killer could've found a lucky spot, if they'd figured they wouldn't and had only dumped poor josephina's body and the weapon there in a drive-by.

"anyway, i'd parked there, so that's where i was heading. but nothing was evident when i first ducked in there. nothing near the mouth that meets the main street, nothing scattered along the ground. no scuffling or car sounds, either." true, she'd been looking down at her phone, but romy wasn't new to being out very late. she always had some level of eye out and guard up. "it—" the scene, "was all really contained. deeper in, maybe halfway. like it wasn't trying to gain attention—at least not right away. the furthest thing out, by maybe a few feet, was a bloodied knife." she hadn't noticed it at the time, but, having stumbled backwards over it, she'd found a smear of darkened red on the sole and side of her shoe the next morning. it'd left a singular mark on the hardwood floor near the entryway of her apartment. the one pair of steps she'd taken inside before discarding the shoes and collapsing on the couch.

"josephina," romy continued, pace of speech slowing as she sounded out her name with delicacy, "was close to the wall. really close. i keep close to the wall when walking through, so no one who happens to be walking by on the street sees i'm in there, and i nudged her with my foot. walked right up to her." a likely place to be, considering the close-range weapon. the yawning shadows not touched by the light of the street lamps. no sprinting-away-only-to-be-shot-right-down-the-middle. the blonde took a deep breath through her nose, the muscles in her face tensing. her heartrate kicked up a notch and she could feel the familiar subtle string behind her eyes before she habitually blinked it away. "her throat was slit, though i couldn't tell you any more detail about it than that. there was—so much blood, already down her chest and on the street. and she was, like," romy's voice fell into a near-whisper, "crumpled down on the ground. like a discarded doll. like she'd hit the wall and slumped down. eyes wide open."

had she been wearing shoes? makeup? pockets with the potential for anything to be in them? she didn't know. as horrific as the sight was, romy wished now, sitting in a nice hotel room chair and clutching a cold drink, that she knew—that she'd bucked the fuck up and looked for something. a hush settled between them for a few seconds as romy mulled over this, then she shook her head and took a lengthy sip of her drink that cut the liquid in half. finally, she looked back at antonio. "that's really as there is to tell," she shrugged weakly, "i sat there for... two, three minutes before the cops rolled up. i kept watching her palms, like i expected them to twitch or something. but nothing."