starving artist

Ayla Binici. Sketch Artist at the LAPD. Thirty.

[aylaxbinici]

— BASICS

Name: Ayla Binici Age / D.O.B.: 30, December 1st, 1994 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: Cis woman, she/her, bisexual Hometown: Irvine, California Siblings: Emir Binici, open middle sister Affiliation: Clean Civilian Job position: Sketch artist at the LAPD Education: Bachelor's of Art History and Studio Art at the Art Institute of Chicago Relationship status: Single Children: A furbaby named Clio Positive traits: Cheerful, warm, reliable, charming, gentle, optimistic Negative traits: Naive, impulsive, disorganized, softhearted, indecisive

— BIOGRAPHY

From the moment she was born, Ayla arrived with a smile. She always brought an infectious smile wherever she went, and brought a warmth that reached everyone in the room. Lively, optimistic, and always able to seize each moment, Ayla looked at life as one grand adventure. From a young age she was fascinated by art. She was found doodling or coloring or painting growing up. Her arts and crafts covered the fridge in her Irvine family home. While her older siblings fell into roles that her parents pushed for, living up to the expectations placed on them by immigrant parents, Ayla faced less pressure as the baby of the family.

Growing up within an hour from Los Angeles, the city had become a second home to her. Memories of family trips to the city, of celebrating Eid al-Fitr, of trips to art museums, trips to Disney Land, dining, shopping, and much more were staples of her upbringing. So when it came time to choose a place for college, Ayla found herself drawn to the city while wanting to explore more. She applied all over, but in the end chose the art program at the Art Institute of Chicago. Art had always been her passion and while she had dreams of supporting herself fully with her passion, Ayla knew she needed a degree to try and help her if she had to take another path. She graduated with a double degree in studio art along with art history. While creating had always been her passion, history had always captured her imagination.

Los Angeles had always felt like home to her, it was vibrant, full of life, and despite the realities of the dirty and crowded city, she could still feel the hum coursing through the city of every person just looking for more. So, she decided to go back after college. Ayla had tried her hand at breaking into the art world. And while she did have some mild success at local galleries and even sold a few pieces, it was not nearly enough to support her in the expensive city. She knew she had to take a second path, to work a more conventional job to pay her bills. The city was so expensive, from rent to food to even just surviving. Sadly, the realities of the world won out over her dreams. But, Ayla wouldn't give up. On the side she'd keep trying to be able to support herself with her passion.

With her experience with art history, she had originally thought to work at one of the museums in the city. Los Angeles was a hub to art and culture, and there were jobs out there pertaining to art history. She did get a job out of college at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, but the pay was not enough and she ended up having to work a second job as a waitress just to make her bills. But one friend of hers connected her to the Los Angeles Police Department. Never in her life had Ayla imagined herself to work for the police force. She was a free spirt, she was a pacifist, she hadn't really thought to promote the law enforcement before. But the pay was better than she could find in a museum. Logic won out for this decision, if she could work just one job at the police department as a sketch artist she could focus her free time on her art, on gallery shows and on promoting and selling her work. In the end she took the job, telling herself it was only temporary and either she'd find another job or would be able to support herself with her art.

A few years ago in 2021, her father died suddenly from a heart attack. Ayla tried to be there for her mother and her siblings as much as she could. Grief gripped all of them and Ayla was hit hard by the loss of a parent before she was even thirty. None of them had expected it or been prepared to lose him so suddenly. It effected her in more ways than she could ever talk to anyone about, and Ayla tried to be there for her family. Her father had always been a traditional man having spent most of his life in Turkey before immigrating to the United States shortly before marrying her mom. But he had been good to her, her position as baby had offered her a softer side of her father.

Her job at the Los Angeles Police Department proved to be not as involved as she had feared. She didn't have to enforce or investigate, only bring to life the sketches of the perpetrators of crimes reported by others. Ayla, who always had worn her heart on her sleeve and supported others, discovered that she could offer support to others in her role. Some who came to her were shaken, they were scared and upset. And for just a moment she could offer warmth and support, assurance that things would get better and comfort when all else failed. She's aware of the crime in the city in a more general sense. While she knows that gangs exist in the city, she doesn't know many details. Certain neighborhoods have certain gang activity, some expand over a larger territory. But since her job deals with people coming in reporting almost every kind of crime, Ayla has never been fully exposed or focused on organized crime and gangs like others in the department. For the most part, she's unaware of the powers that be ruling over and fighting over the city. Her life is removed and it's only a matter of time before the bubble of safety is popped.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

Coworkers

Roommate

Others in the art world

Exes

People to bring her into the gang world

Protectors

Enemies

[jmacavoy]

It was immediate — obvious — even after so much time and space, how Jason could still see straight through the bullshit of a plastered on smile. The Ayla he remembered had always been akin to literal sunshine, real and genuine, never wanting to burden anyone with her troubles. And her light, no matter how dim it seemed to him now, still somehow managed to thaw through that icy exterior of his as his blues traced over the contours of her features.

"Ya know I'm not buyin' that." Jason shook his head, opting to forgo all that awkward small talk. Even if he was overstepping and had given up the right to declare such things a long ass time ago, his brow arched anyway and a strange tug in his chest followed — one which he blatantly ignored, rationalizing it was probably the remnants of the roughhousing he was up to earlier. The very same antics that seemed to be following him now as Jason peered over Ayla's shoulder to some unwanted company.

"Lemme give you a lift at least." It wasn't really much of a choice, and there was a hurriedness in this tone. He was already making a move towards his Camaro. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla tried her best to smile through it and not let it show that she was still reeling from what she had seen on the boat. Some nights she still had nightmares from all of that blood. It may be surprising to anyone who knew she worked for the LAPD, but Ayla was not a cop. She was not trained for the violence or even prepared for it. Her job consisted entirely of interviewing victims of crimes or witnesses to help put together a sketch of the perpetrator. She never had seen violence before.

It should have been a little surprising that even after all this time, that Jason could see right through her. But Ayla wasn't surprised in the least bit, he always had been able to read her. While her smile dipped a little in defeat, she still kept it up. "I suspected you might say that." She let out a little laugh. "But that was on me for thinking I could get you to shrug it off." Ayla just wasn't sure if she should tell him anything, or even part of it. It was a lot to unpack on someone and they had only run into each other in the street. But as he spoke, Ayla sensed the urgency in his words. She turned to look over her shoulder, to see what was causing him to urge them to leave. She knew better than to question that tone though, learning long ago that he only took it on when something dangerous was happening. "Okay." Ayla quickly agreed, walking with him towards his car even though this had not been her plan at all for the night.

[cfrecklcss]

closed starter for @aylaxbinici location: ayla's home

No matter how late it gets, Eren always made time to stop by at his sister's place before heading home. The Huddle House gave him a perfect excuse for all the late night visits, even if lying to her left a bitter taste in his mouth. But was it a lie if some nights he was indeed spending at the bar, just not doing what everyone outside his criminal inner circle expected him to?

Same dark thoughts weighted on his mind, mixed with more recent ones regarding events which had found reflection in Ayla's life, too. As much as he liked the idea of her accepting a job at the police department, it also left him with a sense of unease. The place was as dangerous as it was safe. Especially for someone who always saw the good in people. "So is it too late for a round of Monopoly?" He asked, realizing how silence has comfortably stretched between them. Eyes looking away at the clock on the wall behind her to check the time.

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla was not unfamiliar with Eren stopping by her place or hitting her up to meet her for late night tacos or some drink after he got off work. If she was free or wasn't already in her gremlin phase where she wanted nothing to do with another human being, she usually agreed. He was lucky she was a night owl. Ayla was laying on the couch, under some blankets as she had the tv turned to some home renovation show and she was watching it while playing with her phone.

But hearing her brother speak, she looked up and made a face before grinning. "The last time we played, it took 5 hours." She laughed. "You really want to stay up until 4 am playing Monopoly with your little sister?" She teased.

[staincdvermillion]

there hadn't been a breath held, no. but there had been a curiosity in the depths of his mind. on precisely what her reaction to his name would be. some knew of him, sure. if they really focused that intricately upon the barone family, they would know of arlo's two sons. the seemingly rather italian branch of their family. while others may have only ever known of him through the story that clung to him. that rested like a dark mass upon his shoulders. the reminder of the day would never leave him, in the shattered remnants of his mind. while others had the luxury of no longer caring for it. of brushing it off as it did not particularly affect their lives, nor livelihood. and when she seemed unmoved by his name, cassio hadn't known the feeling that sparked within his core .

" you'll have to give praise to my mother. she kept with tradition, ensured a very italian name. " he answered, with that same hint of a smile upon his lips. it had been comical, the difference in the barone lines. where one had seemed to stray from their roots, the other had remained firmly in place. then again, maybe it spoke more than he knew. but the thoughts were disregarded, when she directed his attention to the choice of drinks. the difference in his and hers. a brow rose softly, amusement colored curiosity within his features. " why would you do that? you want the martini, don't you? " he questioned, with a simple glance to the bartender. he lifted his hand, gave a soft flick as if to instruct the man to set about making it. " if you're worried about making me uncomfortable, please don't. if i didn't need to work, i'd be curious to see why you chose the martini. "

[aylaxbinici]

If he had uttered his last name, the spark of recognition would have blossomed in her dark eyes. Of his family in the news and the name uttered like a curse through the hallways of her own workplace. The Barone family had been the great white the department was chasing, only to drop the whole case when they mismanaged evidence. But the mere name of Cassio, the one buried in her memories of the horrible crash that had shocked the city were so deep in her memories that even the unique name couldn't clear the cobwebs.

"I understand a traditional name." Ayla replied with a genuine smile. Her own name was a traditional Turkish one when her parents could have easily picked western names for her and her siblings to easier assimilate in the country they had chosen to have a family in. "There's a kind of... double meaning to it, isn't there? The sense of carrying on a lineage and a tradition of your culture." She spoke softly, her gaze catching his as she smiled in a form of apology for getting lost in her thoughts. But at his question, she perked up, smiling at him with her own amusement reflected back in her features. "Because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." She answered as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. Because to Ayla it was, to put the thoughts of others before herself. Watching the bartender leave them, she moved closer to Cassio and angled her body towards him. Pursing her lips in light thought, she started listing off the reasons. "It's kind of hard to go wrong with a martini. Every bar will most likely have the ingredients. Any bartender should know how to make one. It's a classic and hopefully wrong to mess up because it's so simple. I don't have to worry about upcharging it because it's on some special cocktail menu. And well, I just like the taste of them." She smiled up at him. "So do you work here then?"

[tomhatch]

where: los angeles police department who: @aylaxbinici & tommy hatch

Tommy had never been a fan of law enforcement. From his younger days, running his mouth and stuffing shit in his pockets that didn’t belong to him, to five long years locked up with barely a strip of sunlight a day to remind him the world still turned. Places like the police station had a way of getting under his skin. Nevertheless, he'd gotten the call earlier that week with the voice on the other end letting him know they had Quincy’s things, that someone had to come get them. He’d thought about pushing it off on Tyson, letting his big brother deal with it, but Tyson had been swallowing himself in hospital shifts lately, probably just trying to keep busy so the grief didn’t catch up. They coped how they could; Tommy drank and dabbled and didn’t sleep. Tyson picked up overtime and buried himself in his work. Neither of them was doing great, but it was him that was more available.

He’d been waiting by the front desk for a while now, watching the receptionist juggle a phone call like it was any other Tuesday — like the sky wasn’t falling, like his entire world hadn’t just gone up in flames. The place buzzed with movement, with clipped voices and ringing phones, business as usual. He kept his hood up, earbuds in, trying to keep the edge off his nerves. That was when he caught a flash of dark hair out of the corner of his eye.

“Ayla,” Tommy said, tugging his headphones loose and straightening up a little — trying, maybe, to look less like a kicked dog. “It’s good to see you.” And it was. Despite her and Jason not working out, there was never any bad blood. Tommy knew how his best friend operated — the reasons he gave weren’t about her, not really. He offered a small, tired smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, gesturing towards the still-occupied receptionist. “I’m just, uh, here to pick up Quincy’s things. Eventually.”

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla had just dropped off a sketch to the homicide department and was heading back to gather up her stuff before leaving for the day as she cut across the main lobby. It was always busy in the main area, people coming for any number of reasons from help to investigations to collecting anything belonging to those who had been the cause of their visit here. It was like a land mind field and Ayla was sure if she dressed in any kind of uniform she'd be stopped more often with any number of questions she couldn't answer and could only go try to seek some other overworked person who would tell her they couldn't help.

But it was the sound of her name that made her pause and turn on her heels. The fact she was being addressed by name was enough reason. Her eyes settled on Tommy as he stood up and she approached with a gentle smile. "Tommy." She hadn't seen him much since Jason broke up with her, but she had seen him a lot before then during that year. Though of course she had been hearing the name of his sister often since the fire, and his and his brother's name had come up in relation. "Quincy? Oh, I thought -" She asked, a little surprised. Surely there had been someone else in Quincy's side called to pick it up. But if Tommy was called, he was the first name those in the station got a hold of that was closest to the victim. Maybe he had no other family except through his wife... or was it soon to be ex wife? Turning her head she looked at the front desk and saw how overworked they were. "Well, I can help. Let me see if I can go pick up the box and I can sign off on giving it to you?" She offered with a smile, knowing she'd be able to save him some time if she did it herself.

[emildelcastillo]

Emil stepped away from her to pick up his phone, barely listening to her as he inspected it carefully. He didn't care much about it, really, and then helped pick up her pencils. "Work involves...pencils and a hospital?" He'd never really seen her around aside from when they met at the yacht party; everyone knew how that had ended. "My phone is alright, don't worry about it." Emil was into details, he looked Ayla over to do a checklist of what her job could be. Regular clothing, several pencils with different levels of hardness, at a hospital. She could be an artist but what would she be doing at a hospital? Even worse, what could she be doing at a yacht party with all the organizations that almost ran the city of Los Angeles. "What did you say you do for a living?"

[aylaxbinici]

The last thing Ayla wanted was to be responsible for breaking the man's phone, who before had only been someone she met at a party but now taking in his attire was clearly a medical professional here. She knew they had a good working relationship with the hospital so she could visit patients and get sketches sometimes before time corrupted any memories of who hurt them. So she didn't want to ruin it by pissing off any of the hospital staff. "Well, that's good. I couldn't really afford a new phone anyway." She chuckled, taking the last of her supplies from him and trying to stuff them back in the broken case. "Work does." She smiled up at him and tilted her head. "I didn't say. But I'm a sketch artist for the LAPD. I was just interviewing someone." Her dark gaze roamed over his own attire. "You clearly work here though."

[dilanseyfi]

who: open ( @bloodnglorystart ) where: sunset grill, late

The diner looked like it hadn’t had a good night since 1987. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everyone in a shade of sickly yellow that made the coffee look even worse than it already was. Dilan sat alone in a corner booth, one leg curled up beside her, half-distracted by the sketchbook open in front of her and the endless loop of some late-night crime documentary playing muted on the mounted TV.

She stirred her coffee without drinking it, the spoon clinking gently against ceramic. The bitter smell was enough. Some places were like that—comforting in their consistency, even if it tasted like asphalt.

When the door chimed, she looked up curiously, it having been well over an hour since anyone had come or gone. She watched as eyes drifted over to the case of confections on the counter, and she couldn't help but comment, “If you're here for the pie, don’t bother. It’s a hate crime with frosting.” Only then did her gaze flick toward the newcomer's face, eyes sharp but unreadable. A raised brow followed, casual and vaguely amused. “But hey—maybe you like disappointment.”

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla had been out with some friends and was a few shots and drinks in the night. But they'd been celebrating, a birthday came only once a year of course. But after they all had stumbled out of the last bar giggling and unsteady on heels, they all had gotten into their respective ubers to head home. On the way home though, she checked Dilan's location, fully expecting her roommate to be at their shared apartment. Instead, she was shocked to see her out at a diner and not with a name she recognized as a late night haunt.

Curious, and not really wanting to go home alone, she canceled her ride and instead entered a new address to the diner, slipping the driver some cash to settle any complaints and to agree to hit that accept button. Pushing into the diner, Ayla's eyes roamed over the lack of customers before it landed squarely on the lit up dessert case and the hunger that haunted every drunk person made those pies look extremely appetizing. But it was the sound of her roommate's voice that made her turn and abandon the pies. "I'm hungry, but maybe not that hungry." Ayla laughed.

Stumbling over on her heels, she dropped into the booth opposite Dilan and slid in across the sticky vinyl. "What are you doing here?" She asked, shooting her friend and roommate a smile as she reached for one of the yet again sticky menus behind the napkins. "I am actually hungry though, you want anything?"

[lovercel]

our STAR 🌟

[staincdvermillion]

if there was one thing cassio greatly disliked, it was being at a disadvantage. the head trauma that he had suffered ensured that he would always be. in some way, shape or form. from the inability to do certain things, to the memories that would fray at the edges. but that had been separate. a different ordeal that he had come to accept, in a way. for in truth, he more so ignored it, when he could. but this, the not knowing who she was. or why her face sparked some itch at the back of his mind bothered him. cassio didn't like not knowing who someone was, or believing that he ought to know who they were .

" you say connection, i say talent. " tomato, tomato really. but he smiled nonetheless. genuine, or so it would seem. his gaze flicked down to her hand, and after a beat, he extended his own. " cassio. " he offered only what she had given him. but he wondered, whether the first name would spark any sort of recognition in her eyes. the barone family name had certainly carved out its own reputation. but had his own? aside from the headlines that had marred the papers some years ago. of the tragedy, the brush with death that had shaken the family. it was almost comical now. " if you insist, " he noted as he finally released her hand. before he finally shifted his gaze to the bartender, " and a club soda for me. "

[aylaxbinici]

In a city like this, crawling with rich and famous people, Ayla prided herself on not letting any of it get to her. This city was full of somebodies and she was a nobody living in the real world. She tried to not let any of it sway her, she always firmly believed it was who the person was that mattered more than how much money they had in their bank account. But that didn't mean she was immune to beauty. And even in the low light of the club, Ayla couldn't stop her gaze from flickering over every inch of his features. She was drawn in and knew she shouldn't let her gaze linger on his own eyes before dropping to his lips. A face worth sketching. The thought hit her suddenly and she let her gaze drop as a hint of a blush touched it, grateful he couldn't read her mind.

"How about a talent for connections?" The light tease came quickly, as she matched his genuine smile. Perhaps if she had heard that name a year or two ago, it would have drawn up the memory of the news story circling a while ago of a man, a very rich and prominent man who was the son of an even richer and more prominent man who had almost died in a horrible car accident. But the news story had fallen into the dark crevices of her mind, all but forgotten and not even the mention of Cassio could recall it back right now. "That's an interesting name." Ayla replied honestly, her smile growing warmer. "And I mean that in a good way, Cassio." One didn't often hear a name like that. "Put both on my tab, please." Ayla told the bartender, now starting to feel a little bad for the man. She'd make sure to give him a big tip when she finally left, it was the least she could do. Though hearing the order, she glanced quickly at Cassio. "Are you ok if I order a drink? I can switch to club soda too or something non-alcoholic if you'd prefer." She had no idea why he ordered a club soda and she wanted to make him uncomfortable if it was for some big reason.

[prcelium]

who: @aylaxbinici where: echelon

There were rules to running a place like this. Not written, not formal—nothing so brittle. But understood. You don’t start fights in Echelon. You don’t bring heat to the doors. And you sure as hell don’t mess with people who don’t want to be messed with. Santino watched the man with the drink lean in too close again. From the mezzanine, it was easy to pretend you weren’t paying attention. A sip of scotch, a glance over the railing, a casual lean to the side as the house lights shifted red-gold-blue. But Santino had been in this business long enough to read posture like a script—shoulders tense, eyes darting, smile too forced. The woman—he didn’t know her, hadn’t seen her in here before, and that in itself was rare. Tourists came through, sure, but not many wandered into the VIP lounge alone without someone vouching for them.

That made her stand out. So did the way she hadn’t touched her drink. He waited another beat. Watched the man slide a hand to her arm—too familiar, too fast. Santino set his glass down with a quiet click. No sigh. No announcement. He just moved. The floor didn’t creak under his shoes. The crowd parted the way it always did when someone clocked who was walking through it. By the time he reached their table, the man had his hand half-raised in protest—we’re just talking, or something equally useless—and Santino didn’t bother addressing him first.

“Miss,” he said, tone calm but lined with a thread of expectation, “you alright?”

He didn’t offer a smile. He didn’t need to. His presence was the answer to a question she hadn’t asked out loud. And if her eyes said get me out of here, even a little—he’d make sure she disappeared from this table without so much as a ripple. All she had to do was nod.

[aylaxbinici]

This had been a mistake. But sadly the red flags hadn't popped up until Ayla was already in too deep with this man, and now she was all but trapped in the private booth with this man and his hand was on her arm, pulling her in even more. His profile had looked normal when they matched and agreed to meet up for a drink. And he'd seemed innocent enough when he asked to take her to another club where they now found themselves. But as Ayla was slowly learning, that was a few drinks ago and this man was completely different when he was sober versus drunk.

Now she had been handed story after story about how much money he had, how girls, or bitches as he so eloquently put it, were only interested in taking his money from him. How he was sure when he fucked her he'd get her so bad she'd see he was more than his money. She saw him get angry, tell her to stop talking and with every drink he put down Ayla felt her chest tighten more and more as she tried to look for an escape strategy. She had ridden here with him in his car and she had ubered to the first bar. Ayla needed out.

And suddenly an escape route appeared in front of her. Ayla had no idea who the man was, but from the way the crowd parted for him and the way he spoke, Ayla suspected he maybe worked here or owned the place. Either way maybe he could help. She felt the man's hand tighten on her arm and Ayla gave the new man a warm and friendly smile as if nothing was wrong. "Yes, it's great. Maybe some more drinks? Another bottle for him, and could I get an angel shot?" She asked, hoping that the man knew the code word.

[jmacavoy]

── CLOSED STARTER

for: @aylaxbinici where: any LA street !

Tonight was supposed to be quick, easy work. Get the cash from the guy in the back alley — then bounce and get his ass home and into a couple much deserved cold ones. In and out. But his raw knuckles said otherwise, and Jason was already hustling halfway down the street en route to his Camaro with a fist wrapped around his keys when he saw her, and it was too late to do anything else about it except try to play it cool.

"Ayla, uh hey—" Jason strung together something coherent, sliding his hand and his keys into his pocket. There never really was a blueprint for this — running into your ex. And if there was, then there sure as all hell wasn't one for running into your ex while hot off some MC shit. The very shit that was the reason for the split in the first place.

His brow furrowed as he got a better look at Ayla, instinct telling him that there was something up with her. "You uh good though?" The question just sort of slipped out. "You look like you could use a friggin' drink or somethin'."

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla hadn't been looking for him, truthfully she hadn't expected to see Jason again. Los Angeles was a big city and they came from two different worlds. And yet there he was. Their eyes locked and Ayla felt a small burst of panic swell through her knowing she couldn't pretend that she hadn't seen Jason and even she could see the same emotions flicker across his features. He stopped in his steps, turning on his heel and now making his way over to her. "Hi, Jason." Ayla spoke, her throat feeling stuck before she cleared it and licked her lips. This was awkward and the both of them felt it in spades as they stood there on the crowded sidewalk.

"I uh -" She cut off, giving a tiny shake of her head as she mentally chided herself before switching tactics. "How are you? What are you up to?" But she could only hope that didn't feel too nosy for an ex who hadn't spoken to him since the day he ended things.

Since the night of the yacht when Ayla had seen her first dead body, she'd had a lot of sleepless nights and the circles were starting to show under her eyes despite the makeup she had slathered on earlier that night. Before that night, the only dead bodies she'd seen were ones at funerals but that was so starkly different from the body splayed on the deck, blood still bubbling out of him with that far away gaze. It wasn't the same thing. And every time she closed her eyes she could still see it all over again. But she wasn't too surprised when Jason noticed it - he had known her so well after all once upon a time. "I'm fine, just haven't been sleeping great. But it's fine." She waved her hand, giving him a false smile and downplaying all of it.

[emildelcastillo]

"What the fuck?" Emiliano let out as soon as he felt another body collide against him, his phone flying out of his hands and to the floor. his reflexes were usually better than that, but he'd been distracted reading news in between checking multiple patients. The hospital was constantly buzzing with people coming in and out, he'd even stepped in to help in the ER due to the never-ending flow of incoming patients.

Looking up and ready to cuss out whoever was to blame for his phone not being in his hands at the moment, Emil was met with a familiar face. "Oh shit. You're the yacht party crasher, right?" He remembered, clearly messing with her since he remembered that she'd mentioned being someone's plus one. "How did you end up here?"

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla felt the case with her pencils in it drop from her hand before she heard the case opening and pencils spilling all over the floor. It was accompanied by the sound of his phone clattering against the floor and his own curse. Instantly, Ayla felt terrible for running into the man and making such a mess for them. "That's me." Ayla let out a little cringe at the teasing partnered with the knowledge that she had literally crashed into him, but she wasn't actually put off by the tease.

"It seems I'm always crashing." She sighed before dropping to her knees to start gathering up his phone and handing up to him. "I hope it's not cracked or anything. Please tell me it is okay." Ayla would probably feel so bad she'd offer to pay for a new one if that were to happen, even if she couldn't afford it. Her other hand started to gather her pencils before she glanced up with a sheepish smile. "Oh, I'm here for work. I just was with someone for work."

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla didn't know this girl, but she hated to abandon someone in such bad shape who clearly needed some help. She could only hope that if she was in such a state someone else would stop and help her out of a bad situation. "I think she got a little too excited about the open bar." Ayla tried to explain, or at least guess what had the girl in such a state. She nodded, waiting for the other to return as she got another wad of paper towels wet to wipe at her head once more. When the other returned, she shot a grateful smile at her. "I didn't know that, about the lemon I mean. But that's a useful trick. Thanks!" Kneeling down beside the girl once more she encouraged her to take slow sips of the water and glanced up at the other as she slowly drank. "I wonder if we can find some bread or crackers on this place to give her some?"

[cfdangercvs]

Either the girl got a little too excited about the open bar,indeed, and couldn't take it, or this was a foul play; whether on her own behalf, or someone else's ulterior motives, it didn't really matter to Ava. Leaning against the cold, tiled wall inside the bathroom, she watched as the woman tended to the girl. Would she do it, if it had been her walking in on the girl? She cared about the girls under her care, sometimes even more than she did about the boys, but that was mostly because it was a common belief they could fend for themselves and it was always women people liked to blur the lines with rather than men. "Not a good idea." Ava shook her head at Ayla's suggestion. "Trust me, I've seen a cases like it a few times." Been in a couple herself, too.

[aylaxbinici]

END

[fassylovergallery]

h a n d e

[staincdvermillion]

there had always been this power. this ability to make others do what he wanted, simply because of the surname that he had been blessed with. being arlo's son had always come with its own perks. but being enzo's nephew had come with even more. there had hardly been a bar or club, or even corner market, that cassio weren't recognized in some way. either from the first look of him, or from the surname scrawled across the front of his credit card. some may have considered it a blessing and a curse, others more so a curse. given how those eyes watched him with a bit of fear in them. the very look that slipped into the bartender's gaze, yet seemed vacant in the woman's. that alone made cassio wonder if she simply had a face that sparked familiarity. but no, he definitely had seen her somewhere .

" a hidden talent of mine, really . " he mused, as if that explained anything. his gaze didn't look over at the bartender, who waited patiently. albeit with a bit of worry etched into his shoulders. it would have brought a wicked smirk to the man's lips. had he not been focused upon the woman, trying to figure out precisely where he knew her from. " how about your name? and maybe the chance to have a conversation . " the smile on his lips was soft, gentle. as if he weren't capable of instilling the kind of fear that he could .

[aylaxbinici]

Ayla didn't recognize the man in front of her. If his family's name was all over the news, his face wasn't. Since the yacht party, since the image of the body bleeding out on the deck she couldn't get out of her mind, she had heard the name Barone many times in the news now. But the man had never uttered his name, nor had his face graced the news coverage running on loop. She could see the bartender knew him though from the way his whole entire demeanor changed. Maybe he owned the club? Obviously he was someone. Though, Ayla couldn't exactly feel any sort of excitement at this discovery. This city was full of somebodies and the content of the person meant more to her.

"It may be more of a connection than a talent." Ayla teased lightly, but still was grateful. "I'm Ayla." She held out her hand to the mysterious man. "And what's your name?" Her gaze went to the bartender, and though she had felt a slight vindicated thrill before, she didn't want to leave the poor man hanging. "I'll take a dirty vodka martini, please." She asked, her gaze flickering to the man. "Are you sure you don't want a drink to go along with that conversation? I don't mind on both counts."

[voguehandemiyy]

Hande Erçel By #InspiredbyHER.

[aylaxbinici]

WHO: Emil de la Cruz @emilianodelacruz LOCATION: the hospital

It had been one of the strangest experiences of Ayla's life being on the receiving end of a police questioning. Granted that she never was the one to actually question anyone as she only dealt with victims and simply asking them questions about who they saw. But still, she had never been questioned. But like most guests on the yacht, she had been questioned briefly before being let go. Many of those on shore had recognized her and so she was released quickly. And though the image of the dead body haunted her every time she closed her eyes, life went on. She had other cases to deal with. The police had this case of the Barone family to deal with.

Ayla tried to bury herself in other's problems to make her forget her own. And so she found herself at the hospital comforting a victim and taking the details for a sketch of who had mugged them. As she assured the woman that they'd find the man with a gentle smile, she exited the room only to collide with another. "Sorry - oh it's you."