P E N N

“☎” for a RUSHED text. 

Penn: We still on for dinner? I’m running a little late so if you could order me a glass of cab sav I’d love you forever

“ツ” for an EXCITED text.

Penn: Who’s up for the quarter by 14%??Penn: This girl!!!

“$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

“⁇” for a DRUNK text.

Penn: did yuo like the wine???Penn: theres nore where that came from at my apartmentt

“ø” for a LATE NIGHT text.

Penn: Is that you across the bar? If it, you should come over here...Penn: Either you just left or that definitely wasn’t you. 

“$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

“ø” for a LATE NIGHT text.

Penn: It’s 11:30 and I’m in a bar surrounded by children.Penn: Is bad for me to say that I think you’re the only person right now who’s company I would enjoy?

“%” for a CURIOUS text.

“#” for a RANDOM text.

Penn: Can I still count on you for that drink?Penn: I’ll pay if i have to :P

“$” for an ACCIDENTAL text.

Penn was less of a conquest and more like dessert after a meal and after his week long bender following the explosion, he figured he could use a sweet something the cleanse the palate (and maybe persuade along the way to butter Zeus up before the confrontation).

He stalked Penn like a lion through the Savannah, just a lurking shadow around every corner as he relished every flinch and tension in her shoulders at the fear of being watched. It was cruel and sick in a way as he slid from corridor to corridor, gauging her thorough caution after every door along the way to the exit with amusement but the thrill was worth the risk of blowing his month long ruse. 

Turning the hallway to escape through another door, he followed the same procedures in locking up before he slipped out to cut a corner around the block where he met her in the middle of the road. Playing shocked (and relatively drunk) he gasped before (too) succinctly scooping up her purse. 

“Ouch, darling. I would say I’m a little bit more like a troll than a Gremlin.” He smirked as he lifted her purse before offering her a hand. “Besides, you haven’t fed me yet and it’s barely past midnight.”

Seeing Hermes always seemed to be a mixed bag for Penn- there were days where she felt her heart beat a little fast and her palms got sweaty and he made hr nervous. But on the other hand there were moments where all she wanted to do was reach out and throttle his neck. This moment of fear held a combination of the two, and before she could do anything other than curse he was on the ground reaching for her bag.  

She grabbed his offered hand and gave him a mixed smile with reproach and fondness, “You know one of these days you’re going to stumble across the wrong person, and they’re going to pummel you into a pulp- you should be thankful it’s only me this time.” She teased him before moving into be closer to him. "BArely pastmidnight, so it’s certainly not your bedtime yet.”

He stopped for a moment, face stone-cold in sudden confusion as Penelope mentioned Club Nyra. An unfamiliar feeling of his heat sinking – it was uncomfortable and his mood was close to becoming sour when he heard Penn laughing. “I see your sense of humor hasn’t gone away. How nice.” Caiden mumbled, though his tone said that he was less than impressed with her little joke. “O’Shaughnessy’s. I’m not sure I’m familiar with it but I trust your judgement.” He said, offering her his arm. “Despite what you might have heard, I’ve still got more money in my wallet than I know what to do with. Lead away, then.” 

She’d toed too close to the end of her own rope with the Club Nyra joke. It was important that Penn remembered that she wasn’t actually irreplacable, as much as she pretended that she was. But what she thought had been funny came across as tasteless- if Caiden’s expression was anything to go by. “It’s in bad taste but it’s so rare that I actually get to make a joke these days.” 

She slid her arm through his offered one and began leading him in the direction of the bar. The first block was walked in silence, which Penn actually liked. She had no fear when Caiden was with her, except for Caiden himself. It made it easy for her to eventually break the silence. “How are you doing- with everything? I know it’s still the early days but from what I’ve seen you’re thriving.” A bald faced lie. “Hera certainly seems confident enough.” A foolish truth. 

In any other circumstance, Dante would have been offended, felt a need to defend himself and put up a wall. In Penn’s company, it hardly mattered. She did not know him, did not know the things that he had done in order to keep his head above the waters that threatened to drown him. They were simply two acquaintances having a casual conversation before parting ways, something that he would gladly entertain until it was time to turn in and find someone to do it with. “Tell me, Penn, have you ever even attempted to venture out of your comfort zone? Have you ever taken some time away from your business to do something that you think is unconventional? It could be a lot of fun, you know.”

What Penn had a hard time explaining to people is, she actualy liked being alone. There were occaisonal fleeting moments where she wondered what it would be like to wake up by rolling into another body in her bed- but more of the time she thought herself lucky to be so unattached. How many people had she seen die? How many spouses left in bed suddenly too large for themselves. Penn knew herself as a big player, and she knew the chances of someone she loved being taken out were lower than the average henchmen, but they were still there. And that was enough to keep her away from other people. “If it’s my best means for survival- yes. I personally have enought at stake right now.” She didn’t need to add love to the equation. 

But Dante’s words held merit, and as she sipped her wine she tried not to let it show that his inquisition was getting to her in a way she hadn’t expected. At no point did she think the hotheaded hitman actually cared enough to wonder. “I’m a scientist, Dante, not a daredevil. I don’t do uncalculated risk.” But fun... it sounded like a foreign concept that Penn was unfamiliar with after all this time. “Did you have anything specific in mind?”

It started with wine. 

Didn’t it always start with wine?

But it had looked so good, rather she had looked so good. Penn could hardly be held accountable for the way she slid across the couch as Yasmin poured the rose colored liquid between her lips. It was erotic in a way Penelope failed to notice when there were flashing lights layered over the heart pounding bass line, and she needed her in a way that Penn barely needed anyone. 

It was as easy as breathing, Penn would recount later, still breathless and dizzy from the scent of her floral perfume. It was the easiest thing in the world for Penn to remove the glass from Yasmin’s hand, placing it on the table without a second thought. It was the second easiest thing for her to replace the glass with her own fingers, sighing as they intangled themselves in Yasmin’s impossible small hands. The clear next step was for Penn to lean forward, ever so slightly covering the girl’s mouth with her own, the taste of wine on the tip of Penelope’s tongue. She held herself there for a moment, frozen in place, until she felt Yasmin relax underneath her. 

Only after several heated moments more did she move back, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips. 

Mingling was what Maddox was the best at. It’s what he was paid to do, and even in instances that he wasn’t on the clock, it was almost second nature. He continued along through the groups of people, an easy smile on his face as he did so, holding his drink in his hand as he continued to move against the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, it seemed like Syrus truly did know how to throw a party - although that could easily have been something to be blamed on the liquor. 

The alcohol that burned and reverberated in his chest left his limbs feeling loose and the smile on his face coming in an easy motion. He’d taken a couple steps, eyes scanning the room around him to see if there was anyone around that looked like they were worth chatting up - but as he noticed himself all but about to barrel into someone, he found himself backpedaling. “Fucking hell, sorry,” he laughed. “I didn’t - my drink didn’t spill on you, did I? God, I thought the beer goggles wouldn’t take effect for another couple drinks.”

He was cute but unfamiliar, which always had the tendency to put penn on edge. She moved back quickly, her drink sloshing partway out of it’s glass and thankfully only landing on the floor between them. She tried to laugh it off, the sound metallic to her own ears. “No harm, No foul-” She gave him a smirk “No bruise.” She took a sip from the now nearly empty glass. “It always seems to sneak up on you, doesn’t it? One minute you’re fine the next you’re on the dancefloor missing your pants and doing the Macarena.”

Nights underground were often filled with boisterous laughter and quite a few more bruises to his body, whether they were from the various fights he got himself into or within the confines of his or someone else’s bedroom. Tonight was different, however, he had been filled with a yearning for something more. How he had expected to find it in a place like this, he didn’t know. “Are you implying that I don’t have standards in other parts?”

Ares’ words took Penn aback, not realizing that they applied very aptly to her life and the lives of many people in this business. There was no down time, or time tha was spent that wasn’t in some way related to this massive scheme that had ultimately become her life. “Perhaps that’s why I prefer to spend my nights alone.” The sad reality of her life, but to live a life of strangers walking in an out of her life, her bed, her.... heart. It was all a little too difficult for Penn to stomach, so she didn’t. Instead she simply drank wine, and more wine.....and then a little more. “perhaps it was a wrong choice of words.... Victim? Unlucky stranger?”

She’d bungled her words up, that was for sure. It wasn’t that she thought less of Dante, but that their lives were different. Maybe, beneath the layers of denial and hardened grime, she did consider her life better. Shed never say this, of course, but it was hard for her to understand the need for pulsing music and screaming crowds; she had no deire for slick strange bodies to press up against her. “If you want to take it that way. Perhaps I was speaking out of turn. I forget that not everyone feels the same way I do.”