He let his hand waver far longer than necessary, maintaining the connection until her touch sent a quiver through his entire frame. Delicately, Bash released his grip, letting his palm fall to his side. "Me? An idiot?" A throaty chuckle fled as he shook his head in mock disbelief. "Never fucking heard that one before." Though it was tame compared to the many insults endlessly hurled his way. Wetting his lips, he offered a flicker of astonishment, his dark eyes rolling. "You and that damn shoe against the world, huh?" Part of him would have loved to see Nova dive in like the little wildcat she was, but he would never have pardoned himself if she came into harm's way because of him.
"I know you didn't ask for one, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve it." Bastian rarely, if ever, offered an apology of his own accord, but for her? It was effortless being swept up into Nova's energy. Her name was fitting, a bright star that, even when fading, still caught your attention. "Eh, it's the least I could do, Nov. And if you see that asswipe around here ever again, I'd better be the first person you hit up... Now, about getting arrested, I'll see what I can do, but I don't make any promises."
Shrugging his shoulders back, the heavy weight of his jacket slipped from his arms, allowing him to offer it to the woman. "Yeah, I brought my bike, though, and it's pretty chilly. Bundle up."
Nova watched him with her usual quiet intensity, the kind that didn’t feel heavy until you realized she hadn’t looked away once. His words earned a faint huff of a laugh, her head tilting slightly. “Yeah, you. Don’t let it get to your head, though,” she murmured, softer than before, the edge she held had dulled just for him. At the mention of the shoe, her lips twitched. “Please, I would’ve handled it. Maybe not gracefully, but he would’ve remembered me. Isn’t that what he wanted? A reminder?” Still, there was something unspoken there, something she didn’t know how to say.
Her gaze lingered when he apologized, really looked at him this time, like she was weighing it, like she understood what it cost him to say it out loud. “I think you’re worth the trouble,” she replied quietly, the hint of a smirk pulling at her mouth. “But noted. Next time I’ll call you first before I go threatening people with designer footweare.” Her smile softened, “And thank you, Bash. I appreciate the apology,” she added, a little softer, “but you owe me a dance.”
When he shrugged off his jacket, her eyes dropped to it, then back up to him, something warmer settling in her expression. She pulled the cigarette from her lips, flicking the half-smoked thing off to the side before stepping closer. “Such a gentleman,” she said, tone laced with a faint tease as she took the jacket, slipping it on and letting it swallow her up just a little. Then, without much hesitation, her hand found his, fingers threading through like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Shall we?” she added, glancing up at him, already moving like she even knew where the hell his bike was parked.
open to: ana ( @crimsonlitskies )
location: anas place
the last time she could remember ana cooking, she had nearly burnt dinner. that had been one interesting meal too. "don't even think of trying to cook again." she spoke as she placed the box of pizza on the counter. "the last time you did, the food was nearly burnt." she pointed out as a small smile formed on her lips. "i figured pizza was the best option in the end." pizza she had made technically before coming over.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ana laughed, the memory of their last cooking fiasco flashing through her mind as she moved easily around the kitchen, reaching for a bottle of wine and pouring them each a glass before handing one over. She pulled out a couple of plates, setting them down with practiced ease as she settled in, her expression softening into something more relaxed. “How do you feel about a little Love Island tonight?” she asked, glancing over with a small, knowing smile. “Have you caught up?”
zahir lets out a quiet huff at that, the corner of his mouth tugging just enough to count as a smile, shaking his head once as he shifts his weight, hands settling easy but his posture never fully dropping. “you say that, but it already feels like one,” he replies, tone dry but not sharp, something familiar in it that lingers a second longer than it should before he lets it go with a small shrug. her comment about scanning the street doesn’t go ignored. he glances out anyway, reflex more than choice, then back to her, softer this time, less guarded if only by a fraction. “occupational hazard,” he says simply, like that explains everything it needs to. for him it does. a beat passes, the weight of the last few days sitting heavy between them without needing to be named, miles, josephina, the ball. rift valley doesn’t get to pretend it’s untouched anymore. his gaze steadies on her, thoughtful now. “i don’t expect to find a miracle,” he admits, voice low, honest in a way he doesn’t offer often, “but they happen anyway.” another small pause, something reflective crossing his features before it settles back into that calm control. “just… usually takes more work than people think.”
Anastasia watched that near-smile like it was something rare, something she wasn’t quite meant to see but did anyway, and for a moment, her own expression softened in response without her realizing it. “You always did have a way of making things sound simpler than they are,” she said quietly, though there was no edge to it, just quiet familiarity. Her gaze followed his out to the street before returning to him, steadier now, more present than performative. “And maybe that’s why it feels like one,” she continued, her voice low, thoughtful. “Because you’re still willing to believe something good can come out of all of this…even when everything around us keeps proving otherwise.” There was a pause, her fingers brushing lightly along her arm, grounding herself as she studied him. “I think I learned how to report on miracles,” she continued softly, a faint, almost self-aware smile touching her lips, “not how to believe in them.” Her eyes lingered on him then, something unspoken settling between them before she exhaled quietly. “But you’re right…they don’t just happen. They’re built. Or fought for.” Another moment passes, gentler this time, before her tone shifted just slightly into something warmer. “If you’re not too busy putting in all that work tonight,” she added, tilting her head just enough to catch his gaze again, “I was going to grab a coffee. You could join me… short walk there and back.” A faint smile followed, softer now. “Or I can bring you one, if you’d rather stay out here and keep an eye on things.”
"An entrance and an exit, I like to be remembered." It was the opposite, actually, but it seemed as if no matter what Bash did, a spotlight found its way onto him, blinding out any good he'd ever done. Hell, it was as if half the valley was ready to rip him a new one, and if he was being honest, he couldn't give two shits. Despite the ass-whooping he'd taken, he'd made sure Eddy wasn't walking away without a reminder, either. "I'd do it again, ya'know." He offered his signature shit-eating grin as he sank against the car beside her. "'Course ya don't. Why would you?" He shook his head, then stilled as her hand lifted.
Dark orbs studied her features, observing as plumes of smoke enveloped her in a haunting hue. He waited for her digits to collide with his heated flesh, but could only feel the ghost of the sensation. The lighterless hand lifted to eclipse her own, inching it closer until her cooled digits met his tormented skin. "I'm fine." He didn't flinch from the pain; instead, he leaned into it, welcoming it. "Rest is for the weak. I also don't want to deal with any uninvited guests… Not to mention, I owe my date an apology for not making sure she made it home safe."
Nova’s breath caught for half a second when he pulled her hand in the rest of the way, her fingers finally meeting the heat of his skin. Her expression softened despite herself, eyes flicking over every bruise like she was trying to memorize them, like if she could undo them the more she studied them. “You’re an idiot,” she murmured, but there was no real bite to it, just something quieter, almost fond. “And don’t say you’re fine like I can’t see the damage that asshole caused. He’s lucky I wasn’t wearing stilettos that evening, it would’ve gone into his head.” She smiled, warmly, not pulling her hand away, letting it rest there gently now, careful, like she was trying not to add to the damage.
At his last words, her gaze shifted back up to his, something warmer slipped in through the cracks of her usual detachment. “Apology?” she said softly, the corner of her mouth twitching just slightly. “Funny, I don’t remember asking for one.” A small pause, then, quieter, “But…you showing up right now kinda covers it, if there was an apology needed.” She exhaled a thin stream of smoke to the side, her thumb brushing just barely along the edge of his jaw before she let her hand drop. “Next time, though,” she added, tone lifting back toward something lighter, “maybe try not to get yourself arrested halfway through the night. I won’t be so forgiving.” She lifted the cigarette to her glossed lips, taking a glow drag, exhaling the smoke away from his face. “Let’s head back to my place. Did you drive here?”
antonio stood just off to the side, positioned in a way that allowed him to observe without appearing to, his presence blending into the environment while still managing to command it. he had always preferred it that way. his gaze moved with intention, noting details others overlooked, until it settled on someone. there was a brief pause, as if he had already decided something about you before speaking. “interesting,” he murmured, almost to himself, before his attention sharpened fully. the corner of his mouth lifted slightly, not quite a smile, but close enough. “tell me,” he said, voice smooth, measured, “do you always stand out this much… or is tonight an exception?”
Nova didn’t turn to him immediately, as if she hadn’t noticed his presence long before he chose to make himself known. Someone like him doesn’t go unnoticed for long. When she finally did look at him, her gaze steady and assessing, a faint, knowing smile finds her lips. “That depends,” she replied smoothly, “are you asking because I stand out…or because you were looking hard enough to notice?” Her head tilted slightly, curiosity threading through her expression as she held his gaze without hesitation. “I’ve found it’s rarely accidental,” she added, almost thoughtfully. “People tend to see what they’re already searching for.” A small pause followed, her smile lingering just enough to suggest she was slightly amused. “You strike me as someone who doesn’t waste his attention,” she continued, her tone thoughtful rather than pointed. “So tell me…are you still curious?”
outside of rift valley police station | a few days after the plot drop | @crimsonlitskies
zahir rolls his shoulders once like he can shake the shift off with it, already reaching for his phone to check the status of an uber he doesn’t even remember ordering. he exhales under his breath, faint annoyance threading through the exhaustion, because lending out his car had made sense earlier but right now it just feels like a bad call he has to sit in. leaning back against the brick near the entrance, he scans the street out of habit more than interest, and that’s when he spots her. anastasia hartwood, polished even at this hour, the kind of presence that always means a camera isn’t far behind. “no interviews, please,” he says, voice calm, even, not unkind but firm enough to set the boundary. one hand slipping into his pocket as his gaze flicks briefly past her like he’s still half on the job and then, he adds, “long night.”
Anastasia’s lips curved faintly at the sight of him, something softer breaking through her usual polish before she could stop it, and for a moment she simply looked at him, as if measuring the years between who he had been and who he was now. “Relax,” she said gently, her voice quieter than it ever was on air, stripped of that practiced edge. “No interviews tonight.” She stepped closer, not invading his space but settling into it in a way that felt almost too familiar, like muscle memory she had yet to quite unlearned. Her gaze drifted briefly to his phone, to the subtle tension in his posture, before returning to his face, more attentive now. “Long night,” she echoed softly, almost to herself, before letting out a quiet breath. “Seems like everyone’s had one lately.” Her expression shifts just slightly, the composure still there but softened at the edges. “You don’t have to keep scanning the street like it’s going to give you an answer,” she says, though not unkindly, slightly amused. “Do you really think you're going to find a miracle here?"
closed starter for @crimsonlitskies ( anastasia )
location: intentionally vague, so go wild !!
"i feel like i know you." here was the thing, yujin often had to repress his intuition: he was overly paranoid, a little too insistent on finding problems where there were minor issues at best. but he wasn't often wrong. and when he brushed shoulders with the woman, whether intentional or not, her face stuck out in his mind as someone he should've recognised. "what do i know you from?"
Anastasia’s expression didn’t falter, though there was the faintest pause before her lips curved into something polite, composed, just this side of amused. “That depends,” she replied smoothly, her voice carrying that familiar, steady cadence, the kind that tended to linger in people’s minds longer than they expected. “Most people think they know me because I’ve been in their living room at some point or another.” Her head tilted slightly as she studied him, more curious now, her gaze attentive but never intrusive, as if she were quietly sorting through possibilities of her own. “It comes with the job, I suppose. Familiarity without ever actually meeting.” Her fingers brushed lightly against her arm as she considered him again. “But you don’t strike me as someone who confuses faces easily,” she continued, a hint of something more thoughtful threading through her tone. “So if you think we’ve crossed paths somewhere more…tangible, I’d be interested to hear where.”
Jason caught the tail end of Nova's tirade, busy dealing with some other shit on the far side of the club—a drunk who thought he didn't have to pay his tab, now answering for his bullshit in a heap out back by the dumpsters. The rawness was still hot on Jason's knuckles as he walked out from the back alley, already shaking his head at the sound of Nova’s threats.
"Stiletto to face, y'for real, prospect?" Jason huffed like he'd taught her better—or was determined to anyway. "If ya'd just let me show ya how to throw a real punch none of this shit woulda gone down." His eyes dragged over to the sliced tire, then back up to Nova, ignoring her request for a lighter until he was finished. "Fucker'd be out cold, and I'd be halfway to haulin' his ass out the door by now." He went on, still grumbling as he bent down to inspect the damage.
It wasn't until Jason stood back up that he reached into his back pocket for his lighter and then, finally handed it over. "Gunna take a wild friggin' guess ya don't got a spare on ya neither."
Nova didn’t even look surprised when she heard his voice, just rolled her eyes a little as she turned her head, the cigarette still tucked between her lips. “Oh, here we go,” she muttered under her breath, but there was no real bite to it, just that familiar edge she always had with him. “Have you ever seen the damage a stiletto can do?" Her gaze flicked back toward where the guy had disappeared, then back to him, one brow lifting slightly. “And for the record, I handled it. He’s gone, isn’t he?”
She watched him circle the car like he was inspecting a crime scene, letting him ramble without interrupting, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she might argue anyway. “Yeah? And what, I’m supposed to just start swinging on every idiot that opens his mouth?” she shot back, tone dry but lighter than her words suggested. “First of all, that's every other customer that comes my way. Secondly, are you going to pay for my nail appointments every time I break one from knocking someone's lights out? A stiletto to the face gets the point across just fine."
When he finally handed over the lighter, she took it without a word, striking it and leaning in just enough to catch the flame, the tip of her cigarette glowing as she inhaled slow. "Ding, ding, ding. You'd be correct." Her gaze lingered on him for a second, something softer buried under the irritation, before she exhaled a lungful of smoke. “Don't you dare start with the ‘I told you so’ either,” she warned, squinting her eyes. Her attention drifted back to the car, to the useless tire, and she let out a quieter sigh this time, shoulders dropping just a fraction. “You think it’ll be okay if I leave it here overnight?” she asked after a beat, glancing back at him. “I can get someone to bring me a spare in the morning.”
The last thing Bash needed was another run-in with law enforcement; hell, his face was still fucked, his ribs sore, capillaries leaving his dark-hued skin bloodshot. But when it came to Nova? No one crossed the line. "Look, motherfucker!" The Glock lurched from the front of his pants, the heavy metal lifting to aim at the center of the dirtbag's chest. "Show your fucking face around here again, and I'll make sure it's the last time you see anything, you fucking got me?!" His angry growl echoed through the dark alleyway. The drunken swine stumbled away, hiding behind cars, signs, and dumpsters as he made his escape.
Waiting until it was just the pair of them, Bastian offers his full attention to the blonde, closing the distance between them. "Pop the trunk, you got a spare, ya?" Returning the gun to its home, his hand slips into the pocket of his jacket, retrieving a lighter. With a flick, the flame sparks before he lifts it to her lips, watching as it glimmers against her flesh. "You shouldn't be out here alone. Ever."
Nova didn’t flinch when the gun came out, she didn’t even blink at the sound of his voice tearing through the alley. Her eyes tracked the man just long enough to make sure he actually left this time, her jaw still tight, before her attention slipped back to Bash like nothing about that moment had been out of the ordinary. “You always make an entrance,” she teased, cigarette still resting between her lips as she watched him step closer. At his question, she huffed softly, shaking her head. “Nope. I was just going to leave her here until morning. I can probably just call Jay tomorrow, though he's going to be ticked I don't have a spare. Whatever."
She leaned in just enough for the flame, letting it catch, the tip of the cigarette glowing as she inhaled slow, steady, letting the nicotine seep into her veins. The smoke curled out past her lips as she pulled back, eyes lifting to meet his. “You say that like I don’t end up in shit whether I’m alone or not,” she replied, looking him over briefly. He looked rough, it broke her heart to see it. “Bash,” she continued, softer now, her hand lifting almost without thinking. Her fingers hovered near his face, tracing the outline of the bruises without quite touching, like she was afraid even the slightest contact might hurt him more. Her brows pulled together just a little, something fragile slipping through the cracks of her usual composure. “You should be home resting,” she murmured, voice quieter than before, eyes searching his. “What are you even doing here?”
LOCATION: outside of the hotel, just after bash was arrested
FOR: anastasia hartwood
SAL KNOWS A REPORTER from a million miles away. they have a certain way of carrying themselves, a certain look on their faces before they're about to ask a question that very well may be invasive. thus, sal is quick to knowledge the woman next to him after a second of pretending to ignore her for too long. " y'got a question for me or somethin'? " sal asks. they've been invading his personal space for weeks now since miles' death, and he had known the swarm would begin again after finding daisy's body. he had been a bit more of a recluse, but he had other reasons not to like when one too many questions were asked. " y'all reporters got the same stance before you've got some shit to say. i've come t'be familiar with it. "
Anastasia didn’t so much as flinch at his tone, her posture remaining composed, shoulders relaxed in a very deliberate, almost effortless way that made it clear she was used to being read just as much as she read others. A faint smile touched her lips, not defensive, not apologetic, just aware. “Occupational hazard, I suppose,” she replied smoothly, her voice even and measured, though there was a quiet sharpness beneath it now, something that met his edge without escalating it. “But no, not tonight.” Her gaze held his for a moment, steady and unhurried. “I’m not here with a microphone, and I’m not looking to corner you into anything you don’t want to say.” Anastasia was a reporter at heart but she was a friend to the MC first. A small pause followed, her head tilting just slightly. “Do you really think me so cold-hearted that I’d start firing off questions after what just happened?”
"I heard the masquerade thin' was super intense." Having chose last minute to not attend. How could she? Her co-worker was found dead. The idea of going out to party hadn't sat right with her given the news, "Mary Ellen said like, ten people got arrested because of some lovers quarrel and it turned into this big brawl. Then someone got stabbed? Now I know not to listen to a thin' that comes out of her mouth, so do you know what actually happened?"
Nova huffed in amusement, the sound thin and tired, as her eyes dragged over the woman with quiet amusement. “Some man popped off at another man at the worst possible time, and that other man, Bash, just happened to be my date,” she said, voice dry, almost detached, her shoulder lifting in a lazy shrug. “Then my date stabbed the guy popping off. Maybe it was because the other guy’s trash talking was fucking ass, maybe it wasn’t, who knows.” She paused for a beat, lips pressing together like she might laugh again but didn’t quite get there. “And then he got arrested. That’s it. No lovers quarrel, no dramatic bullshit, just bad timing and worse decisions. Tell Mary Ellen to get some better fucking gossip, or at least make it believable next time.”
She exhaled some of her smoke, “Was your evening at least more enjoyable?”
For: Open ( @thefaultstarters )
Location: Outside The Peach Pit
“Real fucking class, jerk off! Next time I see you, it’s going to be a stiletto to your face!” Nova’s voice snapped through the night, sharp enough to follow the drunk even as he staggered away. “Pig.” She held the glare a second longer, until it felt her teeth would shatter, before letting it drop, her attention shifting to the damage. The tire sat there, slashed and useless, and she exhaled hard. All because she wouldn’t give him a happy ending. “Great.” She dug into her bag, past her favorite bubble gum flavored lip gloss, the almost dead phone, and pulled out a cigarette, slipping it between her lips as she leaned back against the car, already reaching for a lighter that wasn’t there. Her hands paused, checked again, slower this time, like it might magically appear. Nothing. Another sigh, heavier this time, more irritated. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” Her gaze lifted, catching someone nearby, and she tilted her head slightly, cigarette still resting between her lips. “You got a light?”
(lily rose depp, cis woman, she&her) Someone said they saw NOVA-STELLA QUINN around Rift Valley the night of Miles Logan’s murder. People are wondering if they had something to do with it. The 28 year old claims to be [ TAKING CARE OF A HIGH END CLIENT IN A PRIVATE SESSION AT THEIR HOME ] at the time of the murder. They are said to be [CLEVER], which can play to their innocence until you consider they are also [SELF DESTRUCTIVE]. But who knows if they are telling the truth? Rumor has it, they [ARE] a witness in the investigation. Regardless, the [ RIFT RIDER] who happens to be the [LOOKOUT PROSPECT] is a suspect, but so is everyone else.
song/part of a song that sums her up:
"You're in the same boat
With a lot of your friends
Waitin' for the day your ship'll come in
'N' the tide's gonna turn
And it's all gonna roll your way
Workin' 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind
And you never get the credit
It's enough to drive you crazy
If you let it." - 9 to 5 (Dolly Parton)
backstory:
addiction tw, drugs tw , car accident tw, death tw
Nova-Stella Quinn was born to a small family in London, England, the kind that felt easy on the surface. Her parents were warm in a quiet, unstructured way, more interested in living than controlling, letting music play too loud and rules bend without consequence. It should have grounded her, but instead it left something restless under her skin, like she was always waiting for the moment it would fall apart. And it did. A late drive back from a holiday ended in an accident that took everything soft with it, leaving silence where there had once been noise.
At sixteen, she was sent to the States to live with an aunt who never wanted her and never pretended otherwise. That house stripped away whatever stability she had left. Nova learned quickly how to disappear within it, how to be present without being noticed. Somewhere in that quiet neglect, Stella became harder to reach. Nights became hers, slipping out into a world that asked less of her than daylight ever did.
Dim lights, loud rooms, and strangers that felt safer than anything resembling family. She learned how to read people, how to hold their attention just long enough, how to stay untouchable even when she was right in front of them. There was something magnetic about her without trying, something that pulled people in and kept them guessing. But underneath it all, there were fractures forming. The highs came first, sharp bursts of energy where everything felt possible, where she moved too fast, thought too clearly, needed too little. Then came the crashes, heavy and suffocating, where even existing felt like too much. Somehow she's managed to keep those cracks from slipping through in front of people even to this day.
By eighteen, her aunt had showed her the door, she left the roof she slept under without a fight because there was nothing left worth staying for. She took what she could get, learned quickly, and found a strange kind of control in dancing, in turning attention into currency, in deciding how close anyone was allowed to get. Perhaps the strangest thing to happen to her was around when she was twenty while at a party. She learned that cocaine didn’t dull her, it refined her.
It sharpened every edge, aligned every scattered thought into something precise and dangerous. Patterns unfolded in front of her like they were waiting to be seen. Coding, networks, security systems, she understood them instinctively in that state, slipping through firewalls and pulling information apart with an ease that didn’t feel entirely learned. It became a resource that she began to use to survive and connect to the right people. She’s tapped into security camera feeds, pulled footage before anyone thought to look for it, slipped into dealership systems to flag cars, reroute records, or make something disappear off a lot without raising alarms.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, she found the Rift Riders, or maybe they found her. For the past two years, she has been nothing short of loyal to them. They became the family she lost all those years ago and the home she never really had in the world.
personality:
Nova-Stella Quinn moves through the world like she’s half a step removed from it, distant but never unaware. She holds a calmness that can shift without warning, slipping into something sharper, though she very rarely lets that happen in front of people. To most, Nova is the girl who laughs and enjoys a good night out. She is the one out at 2am and home as the sun is rising. She will hold your hair back while puking, never leave someone behind, and take the fall for you if you're one of her ride or dies. Outside of her handful of friendship, she keeps people close enough to be useful but never close enough to truly know her, guarding herself behind a carefully built detachment that feels almost effortless.
headcanons:
Nobody knows her name is nova-stella. everyone just knows her as nova, including her stage name, because she has not felt like stella in a very long time.
She always has a couch open for anyone who needs it. Rift Riders are welcome without question.
She takes private jobs on the side for high end clients, acting as a date for events, offering private dances, but never anything that would go against the mc.
Nova hides her addiction well. She knows it is a problem and she knows she needs help, but there is a part of her that believes she is only useful as long as she's on it. Or maybe that's just what she tells herself.
She has learned how to access apartment building entry logs, tracking who came and went without ever setting foot inside. She’s ghosted through basic financial accounts just long enough to confirm information, never enough to leave a dent. She’s intercepted messages on unsecured networks, piecing together conversations that were never meant for her, and nudged digital paper trails just slightly off course when someone needed distance between themselves and a mistake. Nothing loud, nothing too reckless. Yet.
If she is not working or doing something for the rift riders, she is at home in an oversized hoodie and sweats, half asleep on the couch with Lord of The Rings, old slasher films, or The Office playing in the background while she tunes everything else out.
Her biggest dream in life is to become an actress on Broadway. She's always loved the theatre life, every aspect of it fascinates her. From sound techs all the way to center stage.
her music playlist at a glance:
connections:
drug dealer/connect: open to discussion for their reltionshape. could be strictly buisness or maybe friends as well?
the one who is trying: they see behind the mask she holds up and they genuinely care about her. maybe the person who finally gets her to stick to a steady path!
the reoccurring client: they keep coming back for her services. do they like how she dances? is it something more? could be open to a mob member she may not be familiar with who could be using her or open to other things!
honestly, andre had assumed that people would be scattered through every inch of this hotel tonight, whether it was to be alone with someone they shouldn't be, or to be doing something they shouldn't be doing. even he was tempted to roll up a blunt and smoke his worries away, but he knew this ritzy ass place was probably covered in smoke detectors that would ring obnoxiously loud if he tried it. but for now, stumbling right into a room with gorgeous company was just as good of a distraction. "see, i thought it was just me sitting back and taking note of the way people were moving as though everything were fine. one person returns alive while two are dead, and here we are dressed to the nines indulging in a party. it feels wrong." he states, not hiding the way his voice lowered, as though it were a bad thing to not be focusing on the joyous intent behind tonight's festivities.
given that he knew who anastasia was, andre probably should have expected someone in her shoes to be good at reading the room, reading between the lines of how people seemed out there on the ballroom floor. while he mostly saw the fake smiles and engaging conversations, she saw that people were just as suspicious as he was. "i can relate to wondering if you're bumping elbows with a killer. it seems unbelievable that this sort of thing is happening here, but the not knowing who's responsible is the scariest part." andre hadn't meant to dump all of that on the woman, but he wasn't going to walk it back. "i was looking for an exit so i could smoke. wasn't paying enough attention i guess? but no ma'am, i didn't show up with a date. i never even thought about it." he answered, his shoulders raising lazily in a shrug. "what about you? does your date know you're in here hiding?"
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, not in suspicion but in quiet acknowledgment, listening as he spoke. A faint smile touched her lips at his honesty, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It does feel wrong,” she agreed softly, her voice lowering to match his without losing that steady, composed cadence. “But people have a remarkable talent for continuing on as if nothing’s changed. Sometimes because they don’t know what else to do, and sometimes because it’s easier than asking the questions they don’t want answered.” Her fingers shifted slightly against the table, as her gaze flickered toward the door at the mention of a killer. “And right now, I think it’s less about whether it’s believable and more about the fact that it’s already happened. Twice.” She softly hummed to herself, her expression thoughtful.
At his question, her attention returned to him, that same measured calm settling back into place with practiced ease. “No date,” she replied, a subtle lift of her brow paired with the faintest hint of amusement. “Just me, which I find is usually more than enough to manage in rooms like this.” There was a softness to the line, but also something deliberate beneath it. She knew the baggage that came with being seen with her in public, especially at events like this, and especially as a date. She pushed herself lightly away from the table, smoothing a hand down the side of her dress out of habit more than necessity. Her gaze returned to him, steadier now, a quiet decision made somewhere behind it. “If you’re still looking for that exit,” she added, soft but purposeful, “I imagine it might be easier not to wander these halls alone tonight.” A faint smile followed, subtle but genuine this time. “We could find one together, perhaps something a little less…obvious than the front doors.”
Brooklyn never paid full attention to Jason's self defense lessons. They usually ended in her flirting with him till their clothes came off in some fashion, but she couldn't help it, he easily distracted her. That being said, when he taught her how to use a firearm... that she listened to. And that night in the ally when she found Ana, she saved her life. The air grew thick as Brooklyn looked at her, her chest heaving slightly. Brooke wasn't sure how she would react, not everyone was happy of her return, some were hurt and others angry. Relief washed over the girl as her old friend wrapped her arms around her and welcomed her back.
"Oh my god I missed you so much!" She rushed out as she wrapped her arms around the girl and held snuggly. Ana was the best of them, one Brooklyn truly loved. After that night in the ally, the two grew close and she valued this friendship over everything. "About a week or so. Not very long. I came back a day before Miles was.... God. It was awful."
Anastasia let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh at Brooklyn’s words, the sound catching somewhere between relief and fragility. “I missed you too,” she admitted, her voice a bit quieter now, more honest than it ever allowed itself to be in front of anyone else. When she felt Brooklyn’s arms wrap around her fully, she didn’t hesitate as her own tightened in response, squeezing her just a little closer, as if grounding herself in the reality that her friend was actually here. For a moment, she just held on, cheek pressed lightly against her shoulder, eyes closing briefly as the years between them seemed to collapse into something manageable. “Don't you ever disappear like that again,” she scolded, not really scolding, more just a friend concerned for another friend. But when she pulled back Ana had a smile on her face, happy beyond all things to see Brooklyn alive.
But the moment Miles was mentioned, something in Anastasia shifted again that turned softer, heavier, and without thinking, she pulled Brooklyn right back into another hug, tighter this time, more protective than before. “I am so, so sorry, Brooke,” she breathed, the words immediate, sincerity woven in each of them. “It broke my heart to have to report it when it happened. God…” She shook her head slightly against her, exhaling. “If I hear anything worth noting, I’ll let you know as soon as possible.” Pulling back just enough to meet her eyes, her expression was steady but filled with concern. “How are you holding up? Have you heard anything?” It was long known that whatever was shared between the two would always remain between just them two. What Brooklyn said, if anything at all, would stay right here, between them, exactly where it belonged.
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