bulletproof

location: wes’ (also soon to be aicha’s) apartment time: 3:30 PM, saturday evening who: @westamo​

“Remind me again why we didn’t hire movers?” Aicha whined, the weight of yet another box caused her legs to nearly buckle. “Oh I know,” Aicha continued, her features both exasperated and humored. “Because I thought I didn’t think I had that many things.” Dropping the box unceremoniously once she crossed the threshold (this one was labelled as clothing), Aicha turned to her brother with a mischievous grin. “If I told you there was a tub of chocolate chip ice cream sitting in your freezer right now, could we take a break?" 

                  West sighed, looking back with his own box, rolling his eyes deeply at his sister’s question... and further complaint. “Uh, no... we have arms and legs, don’t we? —Pick up the pace, kid.” Despite his words, he observes Aicha carefully, making sure she was actually okay before proceeding into his apartment. Or, well.. their apartment. Sure, while West was fully supportive with living with his sister, he mostly did it for her. The older Samossen enjoyed his space— which was why he moved out so young, at the age of eighteen. Of course, he was able to due to his career at the time (or soon to be), but that didn’t mean he didn’t know what it was like to struggle. In his sister’s case, West could understand hating being on your own. Of course, her experience was a bit different and despite only having a childhood that barely granted much privacy... he could still understand. After all, no one knew Aicha better than West.

At her bribe, the older Samossen merely chuckled, placing the box on the kitchen table. “You don’t really know me if you think I’d break my fast just for chocolate chip ice cream.” Although the idea sounded nice... refreshing, even, there was only a couple more things to move in. The quicker they moved, the sooner they’d be done. ...Still, West had mercy, he could tell Aicha was pretty much done for the day and didn’t want to push her any more than she needed to. Giving in, he rolls his eyes again, smiling this time. “Take a break, I’ll finish the rest.”

       Something ignited in Dylan’s core, an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, a longing for the past, the instant she heard him call her by her nickname. The nickname he gave her a very long time ago, when sand pits were their regular go-to hang out spot. Were they finally learning to let go of all the resentment? Or more so, was West? The brunette remains quiet, smiling to herself instead as she soaks it all in; the nostalgia, an absolute feeling of warmth. How she’d longed to feel at home again.. “Yep, well.. maybe not all marriages. Your parents are the perfect example of a successful one, if you ask me.” They’d been through it all, and had always remained a team. Akin to that of her parents, before fate took her mother away from them. 

       Dylan felt a deep flush colour her cheeks as she looks between Hilda and West, and then looked away. They had been no stranger to their mom’s wishes, knowing Mrs Samossen had expressed many times how much she’d wished for Dylan to be her daughter in law some day. She wondered how she felt now; after ten years of disappearing on everyone, including her son West, did Mrs Samossen hold the same affection for her as she once did? “That’s a.. lovely sentiment, Mrs Carter, but we’re not together. We’re just—we’re friends?” She near questioned, looking to West for confirmation — was he ready to forgive her? 

                    Mrs Carter merely winked his way at the question of his mother, West narrowing his gaze in response. He smiles, however... somehow, the exchange reminding him of the good times. It wasn’t hard to look back fondly at their history... after all, the two of them were thick as thieves in their younger days. West couldn’t blame them if seeing the two at a wedding were to be the talk of the town tomorrow. When Dylan corrects him, the older Samossen couldn’t help but deflate a little. No, not at her rejecting the idea of being together.. because really... the idea was quite... —In any case, it was more so Dylan questioning where they were, right at this moment. Admittingly, it was a bit hard for West to outright agree. There was a lot to consider... after all, was it really possible to let go of the grudge he held so tightly after all these years? He looks at her then, eyes shifting to Mrs Carter briefly, as she was (rightfully) lost. West smiles softly, lips pressing together to make a short but reassuring grin. It was time. “...Friends,” he echoes, nodding for emphasis. West turns when Mrs Carter makes a sound, cooing almost. She places her hands on both of their arms, rubbing them motherly. “—Oh, well, that’s good to hear dear,” she says to Dylan. Turning to West then, winking. He raises a brow, unsure of what to make of her body language. —Am I missing something here? Perhaps, it was time to make a visit back home... “In any case, I’ll let you two get back to whatever you’re doing.” When she leaves, West turns back to Dylan, reaching out to take her hand in an effort to grab her attention. “Hey, um... I want you to know that I really do mean it and I wasn’t just saying that to... you know, be polite.” 

          It was almost embarrassing to look back on their previous encounter. The version of Olivia that West had seen at the party was one who rarely made an appearance, although she was definitely a part of her — an alter ego, if you will. Looking on the bright side of things, none of this had been enough to scare him away, but she also didn’t know how it would affect his expectations from here on out. As the song changed, Olivia found herself that much closer to the man’s body. Jack and Rose’s music taste was everything she could have expected from an elderly couple, though it gave the night an overall sense of nostalgia and romance you wouldn’t have found at most modern day weddings. “Wow, you really are a many of many talents, huh? Now we’ve seen that you can sing, but have you got the moves? I don’t know if you can compete with old Jack over there.” Raising her brows, Olivia’s eyes darted toward the groom, who was currently charming his new bride with an array of dance moves. “For my mom, it was Frank Sinatra. Drove my brother and I a little crazy after a while. There are only so many times you can hear Fly Me To The Moon before it takes over your mind.”

                    West melted into the slow dance stance all too well, finding himself rather... impressed. While he wasn’t necessarily a romantic guy, there were many times when he found himself leading a slow waltz. Though he’d be reluctant to say, his mother did enjoy a fun dance around the kitchen table growing up. She loved dancing and music so much, you could always find that woman moving to just about any beat. In this case, he’d have to thank her, as Olivia didn’t seem too off-put by him leading. I must be pretty good, he notes, grinning to himself. At her comment, however, West nearly bursts into laughter... shaking his head with intense rejection. “—Oh g*d,” he waves his hand for a moment, quick to then return its place to her upper back. “No! That was a fluke, Tate. I can’t sing to save my life.” When she challenges him, West’s brow perks, eyes briefly darting to the groom in question. “Fly Me To The Moon...” he echoes, the faded voice of Frank Sinatra humming in the back of his mind. West begins to hum it briefly, doing a few grand steps in order to impress her. He slides a bit to the right, taking a step to then dip her gently. “I think I’m pretty good on my feet,” he adds confidently, trying to brush it off as nothing. 

“Just trying to do my one good deed for the year.” he teased, though his heart wasn’t really in it. He was still very much preoccupied, so it took some effort to focus on the conversation. He raised his drink to his lips to take a sip, but nearly choked at the mention of West’s family. It wasn’t so much West’s family, but just the subtle reminder that Marcus was about to be part of one of those… things. Sure, he had a biological family, but it had been a long time since his truly felt like one. He cleared his throat to try and cover up nearly choking. “Ah, well somebody’s gotta be the wholesome family man around here, I suppose.” It was his turn to clap West on the back. At his friend’s question, Marcus’ gaze shifted to find Lyric in the crowd, a smile just barely tugging at his lips as he spotted her red hair bobbing through the reception. “Lyric asked if I’d tag along. Saving her from the nosy old ladies around here who can’t understand anyone not being married after the age of 21.” he explained with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. 

              It wasn’t hard to read that Marcus’ mind was somewhere else. Sure, he did a pretty good job at deflecting any sort of worry tension, but West knew him better than that. After all, he had seen the guy at his worse... physically, of course, and not to mention his uncle spewing all sorts of stories about him. It’s needless to say, but not much could get pass West when it came to Marcus. “Man, you sell yourself short. I’m sure when the time comes... if any, you can be wholesome too. I’ll even tell you my secrets,” he joked, patting him on the arm. West didn’t really have secrets, but with looking after his siblings was a job he took seriously. Sure, maybe seeing himself with his own family was a bleak image, but... not totally unheard of. At the mention of Lyric, West darted his gaze towards the red head, a grin forming on his lips. He recalls Lyric’s fondness of Marcus, and knowing the man before was completely unaware of her little crush... well, West sure enjoyed being in on this little secret. “She looks good, right?” he adds, trying to throw his close friend a bone, so to speak. Oh what she’d think knowing what Marcus had to say. “Didn’t think Miss Dolittle could dress up so well,” he chuckles. 

“This place has been in tact so far. I’ve been here for about a year now. It’s fascinating how quickly people stop caring about you when you decide not to be a trainwreck for their entertainment,” she deadpanned. It was the sad reality of fame, when tabloids couldn’t make money off of you anymore because you decided to fix your life. She was surprised she hadn’t yet bumped into him after being here for so long. Then again, there was arguably a lot of the townsfolk she hadn’t met or paid attention to. “Two years ago I probably would’ve been offended but these days I could use the break from all the attention. And you, what are you doing here? There must be a reason why I haven’t bumped into you yet. Are you just… holed up, wherever you’re hiding?” she asked teasingly.

                       He tilts his head, nodding in response as he chuckles a bit. Well, I can’t disagree with that. Though, West didn’t totally believe Amara was a ‘trainwreck for entertainment’, he was sure being in the limelight called for a different type of stress that he couldn’t relate to. Of course, West did have a taste of that in his 20s... but the brief moment of fame could only amount to a few seconds of Amara’s entire career. “Holed up seems to describe it perfectly, actually...” he nods, chuckling. “It’s a bit embarrassing to say, but after the UFC... I started helping out with the family business.” She didn’t need to know he worked at a gas station, right? ...That was just... far too degrading. “What about you? Where are you being ‘holed up’?”

“Oh believe me, it wasn’t,” she managed to say around her giggles, smile broadening as she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. Hand moving to cover her mouth, leaving fingerprints of mud streaked upon her face as she tried to stifle the sound—to gain some amount of composure in the face of this new found audience. “Didn’t quiet stick the landing,” she teased, internally her mind giving her a 5.9 from the Russian judge. The thought a funny one, that only managed to set her giggles tumbling from her lips yet again. Carolyn began to shift then, trying in her current state to pull her frame from the ground. Though first she ensured that those papers were still in her hands—those that she had caught at least.

Eyes trailed along those no longer true white pages. A part of her disappointed—frustrated with herself for it would mean she’d need another set, and yet in the moment. Beneath the relief such an accident had given her, Carolyn couldn’t help but happy then. Lighter than she had been in days. More like herself. “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she’d offered him then, the words kind—a little embarrassed as she’d add, “Though I hope I didn’t interrupt…?”

                     West couldn’t help but grin in her response to her fall... finding the woman’s happiness was quite infectious. He decided then it was okay to laugh a bit, allowing himself to smile a bit more as he kneels down to her eye level. “No, I don’t believe you did,” he chuckles, offering a hand to help her to her feet. At her next few words, not to mention, noting the way her brows twisted in concern at a few papers on the floor, he raised his brows, grinning a bit. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly call this a rescue... being that a rescue would entail... saving you before you hit the mud.” He notes the streak of mud on her cheek, doing his best not to laugh so much as he points to it, finger pointing to himself to give a visual. “You have a bit of...” he says, using the action to fill in the blanks. “In any case —no, you didn’t,” he sighs, bending slightly to pick up a few fallen papers from the ground. “I was just on a run. Nothing too special.” West does his best to make out the writings on the paper, looking up with knitted brows. “Hopefully these weren’t too important?” he asks, raising them to view.

°  TASK FOUR // FEATURING… @dylanevcrly , @aichasamossen , @julianewin , @marcusturncr , @lyric-campbell

West Samossen (Blair Reford) had always been a fighter. In fact, he made it his career by the time he was in his mid 20s, going from boxing to eventually the UFC. However, after realizing his opponent was the first foster sibling his parents had taken in, West lost all control and ended up seriously injuring him in the process. Now on suspension, West feels as though his purpose in life is null, and will end up taking over the family business: Gettys Gas Station where he currently works.

The whole situation felt like it was straight out of a comic book that Kaan couldn’t help but let out a laugh. It was surreal and exciting to be able to communicate with someone without using much words. It was like the other read his mind and vice versa. When his ‘partner in crime’ shifted the attention to him, he politely shook his head, declining any credit. “I’m just holding him down. I wasn’t the one that risked my ankle to stop the robber.” He said, lobbying the attention back to the other man and holding in his laughter as the woman seemed to hug the other even tighter. Kaan made a mental note to bring it up later, to let the stranger know she was definitely showing affection for more reasons than being grateful to retrieve her bag.

About half an hour had passed before the cops showed up. Kaan released the robber from his hold, lifting him up from the ground and handing them over to the cops. “He stole that lady’s purse.” When the cops handcuffed the robber and placed them in their car, Kaan walked over to the woman who was still standing very closely to her favorite savior. “The cops wanted to get your statement on what happened.”

                       “Oh, whatever! You guys are just lifesavers!” She grinned, waving off his own and the other’s humble responses, hugging West even tighter. He groaned a bit at the unexpected strength she had, an uneasy grin growing on his lips as he politely pats her back in response. Thankfully, time passed and the cops were soon at the scene of the ‘crime’, where West had stayed along with the much larger man.... mostly because he did and West didn’t want to seem... like a dick who just left. The woman, however, stayed by his side like a moth to a flame. He wasn’t sure why, all he did was put his leg out for the robber to fall, but in any case he didn’t question it. When the other had approached them, West smiled awkwardly at the lady, gesturing for her to go ahead and talk to the cops. When she does, he sighs with relief, turning to the other man. “—Geez,” he shook his head, hand running through his hair. “Never thought I’d wound up in a situation like this...” West puts his hand out for the other to shake, a grin greeting his features. “I’m West, by the way.”

Despite her aching hands, Juli continued to punch away her frustrations. She couldn’t even pin point where her life began to fall apart. It was almost as if her life was destined to always be this way. Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden presence that appeared in front of her. Juli quickly stepped away from the bag turning her fist towards the stranger until she quickly recognized who it was. She wiped away a mixture of tears and sweat before letting her arms fall to her side. “It had been eyeing me the wrong way, I had to teach it some manners.” She replied jokingly, her features relaxing. “West, right?” Wanting to confirm the name. Though how could she ever forget that face, the kind one from the Farmer’s market. “The gym is usually empty around this time, do you usually come here this late?” She asked, trying to cover up her embarassment at being seen.

                  His grin falters when Juli turns to face him, noticing the look on her face (not to mention the tears she quickly wiped away). West couldn’t help but be concerned. Despite not knowing her all that well, his younger sibling was around the same age as Juli... if he had seen them crying at a punching bag, he’d want someone to help them too. However, he does ease at her attempt to evade the state of her. Although West would rather much prefer not having to deal with someone else’s problems, there was something about Juli’s need to remain polite that he couldn’t dismiss. “Yeah,” he answers, confirming his name. His grins a bit, but his concern doesn’t leave him. “Between you and me,” and everyone else here, let’s be real “I never really leave this place.” With no real hobby other than going to the gym, West didn’t really have much going for him, he realizes. He pauses though, stepping to the side to hold onto the punching bag for support. “Is... everything okay? I mean, you don’t have to tell me or anything...” his eyes search her features, his own softening as he continues. “I’d just hate to see you hurt your wrist if you keep punching like that.”