oozey mess
YOU ARE THE REASON
blake kathryn
tannertan36
we're not kids anymore.
@theartofmadeline
Today's Document
Jules of Nature
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
RMH
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Sweet Seals For You, Always
Origami Around
Mike Driver
One Nice Bug Per Day
Kaledo Art
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KIROKAZE
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let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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@dcvilsransom
dcvilsransom // dependent mumu for dustanddevils, penned and barely tolerated by socks.
HAKAN YAZİCİ // 37, bras driot of le syndicat // intro.
JAMIE HARRISON // 37, er doctor // intro.
LEYLA BOZ // 28, faussaire for le syndicat // intro.
RIO DELGADO // 35, prospect for aces & eights mc // intro.
She knew before he'd spoken. Not because she'd witnessed him being taken by the officers but because she recognized the look that was on his face. A worried expression that she'd seen when they'd gone to court, when his sentence had been appealed, and now— after an interrogation. "You are so stupid," Azra hissed under her breath. It was the only show of annoyance as she did her best to keep her features neutral. The authorities were like vultures and they were watching to see who was anxious or worried. The last thing she needed was to provide further work for herself by looking angry with Rio after his line of questioning. "Have you learnt nothing? The first thing out of your mouth should be the word 'lawyer'. I don't get paid as much as I do to look pretty and if you don't help yourself, how am I meant to help you." An exhale escaped, peering at him after he took a sip. "I need this more than you." Azra reached for his drink before she forced a smile. As fake as it was deadly. "How bad did it go? Tell me you were in the company of someone for the majority of the night. They'll check the cameras. Did you leave or go outside at any point?"
“I’m sure this’ll come as a shock to you,” Rio started, cutting a sidelong glance over at the lawyer, “But you’re actually not the first person to ever call me that.” Stupid, that was. No, he’d heard it often enough over the last fourteen years that it felt like just another word now. It was ironic, though, considering how he could remember a time when everyone around him thought the opposite– thought he’d go on to work at NASA and actually do something in the world. Shaking his head before his mind had a chance to wander too far down that dangerous road, Rio eased out a long sigh then rolled his lips together into a thin line to keep from interrupting Azra’s berating. No, it was better to let her finish– he’d learned that the hard way. “I just reacted, okay? All this shit’s new to me,” he offered, shoulders shrugging lightly in defeat. He felt chained, even after the literal shackles had fallen from his wrists. “Help yourself,” he muttered, having little use for the drink anyway. Rio should hook head, “It’s fine– just hammered me with the same questions over and over, but phrased ‘em different every time,” he explained, raking a hand through his hair, “It’s like they were trying to get me to slip. Nothing to slip over, though. I’ve been here the whole time, fucking cameras can prove it.”
──── 𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐀𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏 ╱ proceed with caution. . . .
IT SEEMED LIKE EVERYTHING around him was getting worse , he trained himself to never be stuck in the moment or tried to make it seem like nothing affected him but as the anniversary of his late brother breached the corner , things were taking a toll on him : worse than they had the previous years ❛ because in the end , when you lose somebody , every candle , every prayer is not going to make up for the fact that the only thing you have left is a hole in your life where that somebody that you cared about used to be ❜
Admittedly, Leyla couldn’t claim to know Tobias all that well, but she knew enough to realize that when the words left his lips, she couldn’t simply pretend that she hadn’t overheard them. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured into the rim of her espresso martini, “If you’re thinking of becoming a motivational speaker, don’t quit your day job.” Of course, her teasing response was packed with her usual sass and snark, but as she set her glass down and actually turned to look at him, she could see the threads of distress woven into his features and swallowed thickly. From what little she did know about him, this display felt out of character, more intense in a way she couldn’t readily put a finger on. “Do you want to talk about it…or?” She offered, rather than opting to stick her foot further into her mouth.
WHERE // The Freight Yard WITH // Giovanni Russo, @prettierpoison
Loyalty was a hard, often painful thing to come by in Hakan’s world, but he’d learned early on that everyone had a price. But it was a fickle thing too. Anyone could become an asset if the incentive was there, but the pressure was in ensuring that he was always the highest bidder and that the leash tightened cent by cent. People like Giovanni were a lot like an insurance policy, one he’d hoped never to use but found himself tapping into more often than not. With the mayor’s murder still the subject of damn near every headline in Montrose and beyond, Hakan had seen more of the detective in recent days than he could remember, and that trend showed no signs of stopping now. Stepping out of his car once he saw Giovanni pull up to the freight yard, Hakan nodded at the other man, “Detective,” he greeted, narrowly avoiding a sneer at the title and how muddied it’d become as a result of his alignment with the syndicate. He extended a hand, exchanging pleasantries as always before he talked business. “Well,” Hakan began, clearing his throat, “What’s the word around the department?” Who were they looking at for the mayor’s murder, did they have any leads? Would the syndicate’s progress be interrupted, and if so, by how much? There were too many questions he needed answers to. Hakan cut a knowing look over at Giovanni, “The autopsy results were a thrilling read, but you know I need more than that.”
WHERE // Aces & Eights MC Clubhouse WITH // Tobias Beauchamp, @taiintedsouls
Rio was restless, and rather than go home and fight for sleep he knew wouldn’t come to him, he’d stayed behind at the clubhouse, tidying up here and there just to occupy his mind so it didn’t have the chance to linger on the bitter weight clasped around the town’s throat. There’d been enough of that over the last several days, enough to make him feel as though he was still behind bars, forever waiting for the other shoe to drop. Perhaps he should have known that the outside wouldn’t feel much different, but Rio would be wrong if he said he’d been expecting high profile murder to be one of the twists awaiting him upon his release. He’d just finished up cleaning the bathroom when he walked out into the main room and saw Tobias there, alone. By now, he’d thought everyone else had either turned in for the night or gone home, leaving him to his own devices. And yet it appeared Rio wasn’t the only creature that stirred well into the middle of the night. “Hey,” he started, propping the broom he’d been using up against the nearest wall, “didn’t realize you were still here.” Raking a hand through his hair with a tired sigh, he stepped behind the bar, “Need anything before I head out?” He asked, though nothing about his demeanor signaled any real hurry to leave. What would greet him if he did? Just more and more thoughts, growing louder by the second. “Beer oughta be cold by now,” it was an invitation as much as it was anything else with Rio’s reluctance to leave becoming more glaringly obvious. If he stayed, would it at least give him a chance to pick Tobias’s brain and potentially normalize all that he was thinking and feeling?
@dustanddevilsstarters (open) WHERE: Sunburnt Gas & Go WHEN: after midnight
The night was slow, like most around here, though Sadie would argue things had even further slowed down following the mayor's murder. As if people were being cautious, wary of staying out late, afraid of being the next to drop dead.. or rather afraid of being caught at the wrong place, in the wrong time. She'd already rearranged the shelves twice, restocking what's been missing and she'd now retired to the front counter, doodling over the margins of yesterday's newspaper edition. She heard the doors opening, then closing. Footsteps squacking against the concrete floor. She didn't flinch, didn't even bother to look up and see who is it until she felt a presence nearby, a shadow stretching across the front page where news of the latest investigations filled half of it. Only then did her hazel hues glanced up. "It's pretty sick, huh?" She mused, referring to the recent events. At least she was one of the lucky few, who chose to miss all the fun that night, having a solidified alibi of working another night shift at the gas station. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"
Between the low fuel light glaring at him in the low lighting of his vehicle and his nicotine cravings annoying the pure shit out of him, Hakan knew he’d never make it back to his apartment without a quick pit stop– less so for the gas, and more for the cigarettes. Whipping into an empty stall at the nearest gas station, he idled to a stop and killed the engine. With his tie long since abandoned and the top two buttons of his dress shirt undone, Hakan strolled into the gas station, a soft bell announcing his arrival. He headed straight for the counter, noting the clerk’s lack of awareness– at least when it came to him, and not the newspaper in front of her. That had been a running theme ever since Valentine’s Day, and with good reason, he supposed. And yet when she hit him with her opening line, Hakan feigned ignorance, “I’m sorry?” He hesitated a moment before allowing understanding to come over his features, “Oh– you mean the mayor,” he continued, tone laced with the height of his indifference. “Suppose that’s politics for you,” he supplied, shoulders lifting in a shrug. Perhaps it was a calloused view, but that didn’t make it untrue. If anyone played the game long enough, threats tended to follow– and some actually stuck. “Pack of Marlboro Golds and a full tank for stall two,” he replied, digging his wallet from his back pocket and sliding his credit card across the counter. “So, what’s your take on all of it? Think they’ll catch who did it?”
WHERE // Red Ridge General Hospital WITH // Austin Calder, @neonspurs
“You send South 14 upstairs yet?” Jamie asked as he spotted Austin and approached the desk, hand outstretched for the next chart requiring his review. So far, the night had been steady, with a balanced flow of admissions and discharges that kept the emergency room doors in a constant revolution. But he knew that would change– soon enough, their intake would nearly double like it did almost every night shift and their output would lag behind, leaving a number of patients propped up in the hallways without a real room. “We’re heading into the witching hour, gonna need the space sooner rather than later,” he continued, hoping to impress upon the trauma resident the need to free up as many actual rooms as possible before that overflow started. Jamie knew that Austin needed little prompting from him though– she’d picked up on the little nuances of the ER quicker than most of the residents who rotated through. Still, he’d be remiss if he didn’t check in, particularly with all of the uncertainty swirling around town, “Doin’ alright? All this still clear as mud or starting to come together?” He asked, starting with the professional aspect first, then adding, “Know there’s been a lot going on lately– you’ve done well to leave it at the door.”
WHO: Jamie Harrison (@dcvilsransom) WHERE: Red Ridge General Hospital
"Ms. Tomlinson throwing you for a loop?" she chuckles as she sees Jamie emerge onto the ambulance bay. It was the perfect spot to decompress while on the clock. She needed a breather after the morning rush and was awaiting both MRI and CT results to determine the next steps of care for several patients in her pod. "You're the new eye candy for her. I wouldn't take it to heart." The lady had been a long-term resident of Paradise Valley and the emergency room. Merida was in the ER at least once a week for social hour. The woman loved to flirt with the male staff, trying to convince them all to join her on her porch for some peach cobbler and whiskey. "A few weeks under your belt...how are you feeling?"
Stepping out into the ambulance bay for just a second away from the madness inside the ER, Jamie unleashed a tightly held breath, hoping it might deflate some of the pent up pressure hauling his shoulders up towards his ears. For a moment, he'd thought he was out there by himself, but then her question reached him. Jamie chuckled warmly, head shaking firmly, "Ms. Tomlinson is a godsend compared to most of these people," he offered with a soft laugh, stepping forward to close just a bit of the gap between him and Audrey now that he'd realized he wasn't alone in the bay. "Lucky me," he murmured, unsure that he really wanted to be eye candy for anyone, given how rough his transition to Montrose had already been. Carding a hand through his hair, he carefully considered her question and shrugged, "Feel fine. Honestly, it's not the work that's the issue- that shit in there is one thing, it's something I can work through. It's everything out here," he mentioned, gesturing at the space around them, separate from the emergency room, "that's a little more muddled." Realizing then that he'd projected a touch too much, Jamie shook his head, quickly shifting the focus off of himself, "What about you? You're out here in this bay, same as me, looking for something-- you find it yet?"
weight shifted from one hip to the other and it wasn't just her cheeks that had started to warm, the hacker's entire body felt a surge of heat. her heart was a rapid kick drum in her chest and charli's eyes were so busy taking in the man before her that she wasn't entirely seeing him yet. the air was confusing, gone was the boy and young man she'd known and in his place was a man unfamiliar yet the brunette had started to recognize little tics that threatened to transport her back to a time when life was simpler.
he'd been the second person charli had tried to make a home of, and like the first, her father, he'd disappeared from her life. not in a bitter way but still heartbreaking nonetheless. at least rio had made the difficult decision and hadn't allowed the hacker the ability to watch him slowly fade. it was an easier loss that way, not by much, as accepting loss by then had felt natural.
"rio," she returned the moment following the sound of her name coming from him in a weighted breath. did she sound as baited as he did, as though surprise and nostalgia had stolen the air right from their ribcage? he eased back and she shifted forward, ready to chase this moment as a smile twitched at her lips. as children, as teenagers, the connection between them had been pure. he'd been her best friend, the person that understood her and her quirks, and he held her through the loneliness of losing the father she adored more than anything and anyone. sure, hormones changed things, but he was something in her heart that could never be replaced.
dark eyes dipped to the tattoos he'd no doubt filled up the canvas of his flesh with during his tenure in prison, but it was the fit of the dress shirt, how he filled it in so differently now, and the sleeves rolled up his forearms that had hooked a corner of her mouth. black dress pants and shoes, hair styled just right ⸻ he looked devastatingly handsome. the brunette wondered just how long he'd been a free man now and hoped it hadn't been too long since apparently she hadn't been on his call list. but she noted how many pairs of eyes were on rio delgado.
realizing that she had been standing there, silent, and likely with her mouth at least partly open charli felt like she finally blinked and had been released from captivation. she released a sigh and smoothed her palms down the slender curve of her hips and took a move to close more of the little distance between them. it was loud in the casino. "you clean up real good," she complimented right at the same time he'd shared a similar sentiment and then laughed softly, dipping her gaze to the floor between them momentarily as a rosey hue dusted her cheeks. "oh, this ol' thing?" playfully, a hand waved off the comment, because the pounding in her chest suddenly had become so loud she worried he'd actually hear it or see that she felt a little dizzy. "one of those back of the closet, might as well things ... you know," the brunette winked.
a hand went to her chest and it was a silent plea for her pulse to slow a little. "thank you," charli finally said, somewhat bashfully as she cut her eyes up at him through a wave of hair. "you look amazing. it's uhh ... great to see you, but ... " the hacker pulled in a sharp breath and exhaled the sigh, her gaze briefly darting around and double checking their surroundings. " ... it would've been nice to have had a heads up." there was the feeling of something impending, doom perhaps, because the world had decided that he hadn't been for her after all. that had to mean this cinderella moment had to be coming to an end soon, right? "are you ... here with someone?" and she hadn't necessarily meant a date.
mostly, charli wanted to know who and what he'd gone to when he was finally freed.
He’d once thought that his parents’ rejection of him after his arrest would be the worst heartache he’d ever feel over the course of one lifetime, but it hadn’t been. No, they’d only been the tip of the iceberg, with the more harrowing parts still lurking beneath the surface, waiting for him to snag himself on them, having never seen them coming. That was the category that Charli had fallen into, and his decision to let her go all those years ago. It’d been for her own good– realistically, what sort of life would she have had tethering herself to him while he all but rotted in prison for over a decade? But that didn’t mean that it hadn’t practically killed him to push for the sort of freedom he’d always known she deserved.
Seeing her now brought all of that history roaring into the present, reminding Rio how he’d never fully gotten over it, he’d just gotten through it. And he still stood by that decision– how could he not when Charli looked as good as she did now, like she was absolutely thriving? From what he could tell, it appeared as though she’d done exactly what he’d wanted her to– she’d lived her life, made a name for herself. And she was even more beautiful than he remembered.
Rio swallowed thickly, dark eyes quietly studying her while he tried not to buckle underneath her own assessment as well. Years stretched between them, feeling more palpable now than they ever had as they highlighted the differences between them. He felt her eyes on his tattoos, or at least those that were visible to her. Ironically enough, hidden from view, there was one among the mass he’d acquired over the years that he’d gotten as a nod towards her, and now more than ever, Rio was grateful he’d selected a spot that was easily concealed. He already had enough to explain to her without that making the list.
He only became acutely aware of the silence that had stretched between them when Charli stepped closer to him, reminding him of where they were. All around them, the casino was screaming, but he’d been locked in, largely out of tune with all of it. Rio chuckled warmly, glancing down at his outfit, “You kidding? I found this at a thrift store and panic bought it,” he admitted, just thankful that it’d actually fit him, given the fact that there’d been no back-up plan in place, “But thank you.” Grinning crookedly at her own attempt to wave him off, he shook his head softly, dark eyes not bothering to mask how he gave her another once-over as she winked at him. “Red suits you,” he noted, but then, it always had.
But. Part of him had been waiting for that. How could he not? A soft smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as a doubtful hum rumbled in the back of his throat, “I dunno…if you remember correctly, I kinda like catching you off guard,” he countered with a light chuckle, flashing her a full smile before sobering. Easing out a weighted sigh, he nodded, swallowing hard, “I know I should’ve called– just didn’t really know where to start, or if your number was even the same.” Instead, he’d come in like some sort of fucking wrecking ball, over a decade later, and yet he preferred that. At least this way, he got to see her in person, he got to see just how much she’d thrived over the years. To him, that was more rewarding than any feeling he had a name for. Raising a brow at her question, he clung to whatever boldness he still felt deep in his bones and offered up a faint, yet crooked smile, “Right now, I’m here with you,” Rio supplied, voice lowering as he fought back against his every inclination to walk that back. He let it settle between them instead, letting it serve as the first time he’d actually dared to flirt with anyone in nearly fourteen years. Inwardly, though, he was kicking himself, damn near preaching a whole sermon about how foolish it was, and yet he still didn’t make any move to retract it. Instead, he realized that she’d actually been asking him something a bit deeper. Clearing his throat, he shook his head, “No,” he answered, at least on a personal front– that was the easy answer. His next truth was a bit more complicated, “I mean– yes, technically; I’m here with the club,” he clarified, shrugging a shoulder. Would that surprise her? Or would it just feel like a natural progression for his life to take? “You?” He returned, and maybe he did mean a date.
Jasper didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned toward her fully, slow and unhurried, like he was giving the question the respect it deserved—or maybe just enjoying the way the lights caught in her glass. A grin curved at the corner of his mouth, easy and warm, but his eyes stayed sharp, measuring in that quiet, cowboy way that came from reading animals and people all the same. “That’s the trick, ain’t it?” he said finally, voice light but deliberate. “Most folks want real bad to believe there’s only two sides.” He tipped his glass toward her, gaze flicking briefly to the way she held herself—comfortable, alert, right at home in the middle of it all. “But you don’t strike me as either one.”
He leaned back against the bar, close enough to feel conversational, not close enough to crowd. “You’re not lookin’ for trouble,” Jasper went on, smile widening just a touch, “and you sure as hell don’t seem like the type to wait around hopin’ it finds someone else. Feels more like you’re here to enjoy the party… while keepin’ one eye on the exits.”
His brow lifted, playful now, challenging in a way that invited rather than accused. “Which tells me you’re the dangerous third option—the ones who know exactly what kind of room this is and decided to show up anyway.” He clinked his glass lightly against the bar. “Now I gotta ask—am I close… or do I owe you a drink for guessin’ wrong?”
Amusement glittered against the dark backdrop of her eyes as he twisted towards her, slowly and deliberately, which only heightened her curiosity even more. What would he say about her, now that she’d extended the invitation? Leyla didn’t buckle underneath his calculating gaze, regardless of how piercing it was. Instead, she sat through his assessment with practiced ease, a side effect of spending so many years underneath the syndicate’s watchful eye. Leyla arched a brow, soft surprise warming her sharp features then, “No?” If she didn’t fall into either of his categories, then where did she land? She trailed the tip of her tongue across her lips, fighting off the smirk that threatened there as she watched him. “Guess it depends on what you mean by trouble,” she countered, a shoulder lifting in a noncommittal shrug before she fell quiet again, eager for him to continue. Perhaps it should have been unnerving to her in the way that he so clearly seemed to see her. How had he read all of that from little more than a lingering look? But rather than be bothered by it, Leyla was mostly just impressed, and it showed in the almost catlike grin that rose to her lips from behind the rim of her glass. “Closer than most,” she credited him, though she paused then, giving him a thoughtful look, “but I’ll still take the drink if you’re offering.” Sitting her glass down on the bartop, she watched him, eyes narrowing and lips twisting into a smirk, “How’d you guess all of that?”
"do you really think the actual poker game is at a table in here?" the professional at said game feigned disinterest toward hakan and made a show of her eyes wandering around the casino. there were too many big players in one place for anyone to genuinely think the game was in physical cards.
sipping her champagne sena was doing her best to ignore the presence of the man she was angry with. hakan seeing any sign of her feelings towards him, even if they were negative, would likely feel as some victory for the man who masterminded a different sort of prison sentence for her little sister.
"would it really be fair anyway if i sat with them?" sharp eyes finally acknowledge him with a look, then she ticked her head in the direction of the tables. "might as well just hand me the fifty thousand, hakan."
the thing was the brunette knew these prizes had to come with some sort of a debt. hakan, the syndicate, wouldn't be that generous unless there was something in it for them in the long run. and they didn't care about public favor. most people had no idea who and what they were and what was going on around them.
"good to know you're such a fan, though." sena winked at him but it wasn't friendly or playful. if he was here talking to her then it meant he wasn't talking to leyla.
He tipped his head to the side and hummed thoughtfully, as if considering her question for a moment before breaking into a sly smile, “Touché,” he supplied, well aware of how many irons were in the fire within the casino that night. The real game was a power play among all the heaviest hitters in town. Cards were trivial when bigger moves were being made in an entirely different sort of sleight of hand.
“No, but who fights fair anymore these days?” He countered with a pursed lip look as he raised his drink to his lips. Hakan was well aware of how the world worked, especially in Montrose. Fair had no basis here. It was all about advancement by whatever means necessary– moves and counter-moves. Side-eyeing Sena, Hakan’s smirk ticked up a few degrees, set aglow by a burning curiosity he didn’t bother fighting off, “What would you do with it if I did?” That was always the real question, wasn’t it? Sure, there was a prize, but what would it mean to who captured it?
Catching her wink, and the lack of any sort of amusement behind it, Hakan scoffed into the rim of his drink. “The biggest fan,” he grinned, daring a look over at her. It was obvious to him that he grated on her nerves, and he had a few guesses as to why, but he met it all with amusement, if nothing else. “I take it you’re definitely not one of mine though," he muse aloud, as more of statement of fact rather than an actual question.
"A whole lot better than some of the attire I have seen - I feel like this is some fancy prom night or something." It never crossed his mind to compete or to win with an event like this. He stuck with what he knew. Cowboys and men are two totally different breeds. Cale nodded at the advice. It was best he heard all night. "Yeah. I am afraid of that." He admitted, almost sighing at the thought. "They say it's an open bar. I might have to get desperate if I do run out. Don't worry I will snag a bottle for the both of us."
Noah shook his head, dark eyes darting a look all around the casino floor and surveying the pockets of patrons scattered all around. "Never went to prom m'self, but...this ain't that far off from how I pictured it," Noah remarked, turning his attention back to Cale then. "Everybody packed in one place like a can of sardines?" He whistled low under his breath, "No way shit doesn't pop off at some point." Noah hated that he held such a pessimistic view, especially at a celebration that was allegedly all about love, but he couldn't help himself, not with the way tensions were at a constant high. Chuckling softly, he nodded at Cale, "I'm gonna hold ya to that." Noah shrugged a shoulder, "Make sure you snag the top shelf shit while you're at it. If we're drinkin' on their dime, might as well make it worth it, right?"
WHERE // Gold Rush Casino & Resort WITH // Azra Dogan @wildheartcd
Once his debrief– or his interrogation, more like– and the immediate aftermath of both were over, Rio found himself wandering back through the casino, still fuming from the interaction. Everyone had been subject to questioning, he understood that, but he couldn’t help but feel like he’d been looked at with increasing scrutiny. Engaging without the club attorney beside him had been a mistake, in hindsight– at least she might’ve been able to help him keep somewhat of a level head. Spotting Azra by the bar, he made his way over, head shaking, “Cops rode my ass pretty hard,” he announced with a brief chuckle, his clenched fists loosening just enough to reach for a drink, “Probably shouldn’t have talked to them without you, but,” he shrugged, taking a quick swig, “here we are. Went about as well as you’d expect.”
WHERE // Gold Rush Casino & Resort WITH // OPEN, post plot drop @dustanddevilsstarters
“You question everyone this hard?” Rio fired back, rage burning like low glowing embers in the dark backdrop of his eyes as he stared down the officer in front of him. Like the sheriff had warned, they’d all be questioned, but this felt excessive– it felt like baiting, at least to him. “Or just ex-cons?” He let the question hang between them for a moment, dangling like rope he wasn’t about to shove his neck into. On paper, he might have looked like an easy target– out on parole after fourteen years, presumably with an ax to grind. But Rio wasn’t about to allow that narrative to take any shape or form. “I been out less than a month– haven’t really had much time for murder in between all the bullshit parole meetings and piss tests,” he pressed, clearly on the defensive as he dared another step closer towards the questioning officer. Had Rio not been so passionate about his own freedom, he’d have hardly reacted so strongly. He might have listened to reason, or at least to a distant voice he could scarcely make out behind him, urging him to stand down. But he didn’t, at least not yet. Instead, he stood his ground like he should have done fourteen years ago, “Get your head outta your ass and start lookin’ somewhere that matters.”
leyla boz / @dcvilsransom near the bar around 7pm
"hey gorgeous," the poker player greeted as she approached her sister who appeared to be people watching at a cocktail table in the bar area. with a slight grin, slight smirk the brunette gave leyla a once over. apparently 'dress to kill' was in the bylaws of being a boz. she didn't always dress up when she came to the casino, at least not in an eye catching dress, and tonight was one of those nights where sena was a bit more subtle with her look in a black cocktail dress.
after she'd settled next to the artist and had nabbed a passing champagne flute, her attention was fully returned to the youngest boz. "looks like you're vying for a new car tonight," she teased but it was a compliment. of course sena had no idea what the car was but she also knew enough about the syndicate that it would be something showstopping. "you thinking you're gonna gamble tonight? hit any of the machines or tables?" she asked then sipped, let her gaze briefly slip away as she attempted to get a glimpse of who was in attendance tonight.
"if you do hit the tables make sure you take me with you." sena was the professional gambler after all and she'd make sure her little sister came up the winner. though, every dealer and worker in this casino knew exactly who she was. then an index finger popped up and bobbed in leyla's direction as she offered a light warning with a charming smile, "hear me, though ... take a brand new car home, take a pile of winnings home, but do not take any man in attendance here home tonight."
At the sound of her sister’s voice, Leyla turned towards her, feigning surprise at the compliment as she darted a look all around, wondering who Sena could possibly be talking about. “Me?” She mouthed, moments before falling into a wide grin. It was true, she’d dressed with a bit of lethality in her blood tonight, opting for a plunging neckline and plenty of jewels to adorn the expanse of skin she’d decided to show. But then again, Leyla never did anything halfway.
She shrugged a shoulder, a coy smile ghosting at the corner of her mouth, “I might be. At this point, I might be offended if I don’t win.” Though, truth be told, a new car wasn’t even on her radar tonight. She’d just simply wanted to show up for Le Syndicat, and she’d wanted to have fun doing it. “Maybe,” she supplied, though she’d never been the biggest gambler. When it came to deception and games, her poker face was better suited in a different arena altogether, but in the spirit of the evening, she’d never say never. “Oh, of course– if I’m gonna play, I’m gonna play to win.” Which would ultimately mean that she’d be following every move her sister told her to make.
Nearly snorting into her drink, Leyla eyed her sister incredulously at her warning. Of course, it wasn’t unexpected– it felt more like a running joke trying to determine which Boz was more put off by men on any given day. “Oh, come on– give me more credit than that,” Leyla quipped back, another grin tugging at her lips, “They wouldn’t know how to handle me anyway.” She gave her sister a pointed look then, “Same goes to you, though– don’t make me put a stiletto through someone’s neck.”
WHERE // Gold Rush Casino & Resort WITH // OPEN, post plot drop @dustanddevilsstarters
He’d glimpsed it upon so many faces ever since the sheriff had stopped by and put on his little show– people were rattled, and perhaps understandably so. The mayor had just been murdered, after all. The crowd had dispersed, forming little pockets here and there with distinction– there were the bikers, the cowboys, members of his own organization, and then of course, the select few who had no idea where to turn. Looking at everyone now, Hakan managed a smirk– they’d all existed under one roof well enough for the bulk of the night, but it was an entirely different scene now that the script had been flipped. It wasn’t all fun and games anymore, and the suspicion they’d all lightly regarded one another with felt more like an iron hammer. If he hadn’t been wrapped up in the middle of it, Hakan might have been more amused, and more keen to just sit back and watch. But that option had flown out the window the moment he reminded himself of where he was, and who he was. Approaching the bar, he noted one patron helping themselves to a refill, and his smirk widened for a moment before his expression flattened, nearly turning stern. “Didn’t you hear the good sheriff?” He started, gesturing between the bottle and their freshly filled glass, “Party’s over.” He held that look for just half a heartbeat longer before his crooked smirk returned and he reached for a clean glass, only to pour himself a mouthful from the same bottle. He’d only been joking– at this point, he didn’t give a shit who drank what. Raising his glass to his lips, he sipped at it, his expression turning contemplative as he shifted towards his newfound company, “So,” he drawled, a brow lifting, “who do you think did it?”
