Dad's Little Girl

Eliza. Daughter of the best Mikaelson.

[traegics]

Charlie’s brow lifted a fraction more at the sight of Eliza — not surprised, exactly, but clocking the weight in her posture. She didn’t say anything about it outright. Charlie wasn’t the type to drag feelings into the open unless someone asked for that door to be opened.

“Fries have a way of becoming more than ‘one or two,’” she said dryly, nudging the plate closer across the table. “Consider yourself warned.”

She took a sip of her cooling coffee, grimaced like she deserved it, then set the mug aside. “You don’t have to announce an exit strategy,” Charlie added, tone easy. “This is a diner, not an interrogation room. You can sit for five minutes or fifty. I promise I won’t write you up for loitering.”

Her gaze flicked over Eliza, not clinical, just observant — the way a cop who’d seen too many tired people learned to read the quiet tells. The drifting. The not-quite-here.

“Rough night?” she asked, casual as if asking about the weather. “This place does that to people. Makes everything feel… louder than it needs to be.”

Charlie pushed the paperwork into a neater stack without looking at it. “You want coffee, fries, or silence? I’m offering all three.”

[elizanikol]

Eliza giggled. "You're not wrong - there's something so magically addictive about fried potatoes. Like, you can fry anything and usually it's good, but potatoes? With a little bit of salt? There's nothing in the world that compares." She took a few, moaning softly as she bit into them. "Yum."

Charlie's point was taken, and she nodded. "Thank goodness for that. I've never been in an interrogation room, and I'm hoping not to change that streak anytime soon. I appreciate you not ticketing me, though, I'd rather not have to pay one of those."

As she chewed a fry, Eliza considered the question. "Two out of three, maybe? I could go for coffee and fries. But I could also talk a little, if the Chief doesn't mind me bending her ear about things that aren't crime related. It's okay if you'd rather not, too."

[traegics]

Matteo glanced down the street at the backfire, more out of reflex than concern, then back to Eliza. The corner of his mouth twitched at her honesty.

“Hot dog and denial is a solid plan,” he said lightly. “So is alcohol and poor decisions. City’s built on both.”

He straightened off the barrier, not crowding her space, just shifting like the moment had turned conversational on purpose.

“As for me?” Matteo shrugged once. “Waiting out the noise. Some days it’s easier to stand still for a minute than pretend you’re headed somewhere important.”

A beat, then a small nod toward the bodega door.

“If you’re trying to remember what normal felt like, I’d go hot dog first. Drink later, when the pretending wears off.”

[elizanikol]

"Standing still," Eliza's remark was soft, rueful. "I'm usually good at that. Or sitting still, at least, something to read in my hand and snacks beside me. So I get waiting out the noise."

She followed his nod toward the door, smiling at his suggestion. "You know what? I think you're right. Hot dog first is the right play here. Want anything? I feel like I should pay you back for the advice, and I'm happy to get a second dog with anything you want on it. Or fries, I could also do fries."

[traegics]

Beckham’s mouth curved at Eliza’s clapping, a soft, surprised sound of a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. He stayed where he was, crouched low, hands loose on his knees — present without crowding, the way he was trying to learn to be.

“Yeah, well… if she walks like me, that explains the attitude,” he said dryly, watching Piper push herself up again with the kind of determination that made him both proud and vaguely afraid of her future teachers. “Stubborn first, coordination second. It’s a family tradition.”

Piper wobbled, arms windmilling like she was negotiating with gravity rather than fighting it. Beckham leaned forward a fraction, ready — then stopped himself, forcing his hands to stay open, not reaching.

“She’s got the confidence part down,” he murmured, more to himself than to Eliza. “Technique’s… pending.”

When Piper took another couple of steps and sat down again with a huff of indignation, Beckham exhaled through his nose, fond and helpless.

“See? That’s what gets me,” he said quietly. “She doesn’t even cry. She just looks offended. Like the floor broke a rule.” He glanced up at Eliza with a half-smile. “I’m trying to teach her falling isn’t a failure. It’s just… data.”

He shifted closer, offering Piper his fingers again — not insisting, just there if she wanted them.

“And yeah,” Beckham admitted, softer now, “I hover a little. Probably always will. I just don’t want to be the kind of dad that teaches her the world’s only safe when I’m holding her.”

Piper promptly ignored both of them and pushed herself up again.

Beckham’s eyes warmed, something steady settling in his chest.

“She’s almost there,” he echoed. “And I’m already not ready.”

[elizanikol]

"Stubbornness is our dominant family trait," Eliza agreed. "Piper's just holding up the tradition. And I don't remember learning to walk, but I'm pretty sure the stubbornness is more important anyway. The coordination's just the finer details, and those can always be worked out later." When Piper hit the ground again Eliza made sure to clap, keeping up the encouragement as best as she could.

She studied the girl's reaction as Beckham described it, nodding. "You can hover without making her feel like you have to be there holding her every moment. If I yelled for Mom right now then I know she'd be here so fast all of our heads would spin, but I don't feel like she's hovering over my shoulder...unless she is right now, in which case hi, mom." Eliza smiled.

"It's okay not to be ready, too. I don't know if it's possible to be ready. She's going to take her first steps a thousand times, a thousand ways, and all of them will be too soon. But she's always going to come home to you. No matter what, Becks."

[traegics]

Stasia snorted softly, the sound quick and unguarded before she could stop it.

“Hovering, vanishing,” she echoed, eyeing Eliza sidelong. “Very spooky résumé, babochka. You trying to get recruited by ghosts?”

She shifted so they were both properly out of the flow of foot traffic, a small, unconscious move to give Eliza space from the press of people. Her gaze lingered on Eliza’s grin a second longer than necessary before she caught herself and looked away, jaw working on her gum.

“Cocoa,” Stasia repeated, like she was tasting the word. “You have very gentle goals. It is… suspicious.”

A beat. Then her mouth curved, small and crooked.

“But,” she added, pushing off the wall, “I am not monster. I can be bribed with warm drinks.”

She started walking, not even checking if Eliza followed—just trusting she would.

“Place two blocks down,” Stasia said, glancing back over her shoulder. “Terrible chairs. Good cocoa. If you spill it on me, I will pretend to be angry for maybe thirty seconds.”

A pause. Her tone softened, the accent warming around the edges.

“And you do not have to hover to get my attention, babochka,” she added. “You can just ask.”

[elizanikol]

Eliza giggled, smothering it behind her hand. "No, but I bet I'd be a great ghost. Very spooky - maybe not scary, but good at sneaking up on people and getting the jump scare. Also, you should know that I'm learning Russian because of you, so that I can learn all these little words that you're throwing in."

Once they were out of the way of traffic, Eliza felt herself calm to near stillness - able to focus just on Stasia rather than the people who might bump into them. "It's my nature," she shrugged. "I don't know how to be anything but gentle." And then she got the smile she was looking for, and her heart skipped hard in her chest.

There was no hesitation as she moved to follow Stasia wherever she wanted to go. "I would never spill good cocoa, especially on you." She sounded almost offended by the idea. Stasia's words made her look over like a lovesick puppy, hearts in her eyes.

"Next time I'll just ask. Promise."

[traegics]

Open Starter - @darkskiesrpgstarters

Matteo leaned against the low concrete barrier outside the corner bodega, rolling the tension out of one shoulder like it had settled there on purpose. The city was doing its usual late-afternoon thing—sirens arguing with traffic, someone’s music bleeding out of an open car window, heat hanging around like it didn’t know when to clock out.

He glanced up when he noticed someone hovering nearby, not in the sharp, tactical way—just the kind of look you give when you’re sharing the same patch of sidewalk.

“Place always looks closed even when it’s not,” he said, nodding toward the door with the flickering OPEN sign. “Gets people second-guessing themselves.”

A beat. Casual. Unforced.

“If you’re waiting for it to make up its mind, don’t. Owner just likes dramatic lighting.”

He shifted his stance, giving them space on the step.

“City’s got a way of making simple errands feel like decisions,” Matteo added. “You good, or you just letting the day catch up to you?”

[elizanikol]

"Oh," Eliza jumped a little, chuckling. "Thank you - I've been trying to figure out what that sign meant for a few minutes now." The man's follow up comment turned her smile a little bit rueful. "Just letting it catch up, I guess. Part of me wants to go in and buy a hot dog and pretend that New Orleans is just like it used to be for a while. Part of me wants to buy alcohol and drink it on the way home." She shrugged, finally giving the other man a longer look.

"And you? Anything in particular got you standing outside a bodega in the afternoon, or are you just a fan of urban architecture?" There was no judgement in her voice either way, she was simply curious as to what other people in the city were doing to occupy themselves.

Down the street there was a sharp backfire and she looked that direction curiously before turning her attention back to the other man.

[traegics]

Open Starter - @darkskiesrpgstarters

Charlie had commandeered a corner table at the all-night diner like it was municipal property — jacket slung over the back of the chair, coffee going cold at her elbow, half a stack of paperwork spread out but clearly being ignored on purpose.

She wasn’t on duty. Technically. Which was why she’d let herself linger over greasy fries and the quiet hum of late-night conversation instead of running toward the next small crisis the city was inevitably cooking up.

She glanced up when someone hesitated near her table, one brow lifting in that familiar, assessing way that wasn’t hostile so much as… aware.

“If you’re looking for the best thing on the menu, it’s the fries,” she said, nodding toward the plate. “If you’re looking for a seat, this one’s taken unless you’re willing to share bad coffee and worse company.”

A beat, then the corner of her mouth tipped into a crooked half-smile.

“Relax. I don’t bite unless you give me a reason. Sit down — you look like you could use a minute.”

[elizanikol]

Eliza had wandered into the diner on autopilot. It was another night in the broken city where she felt adrift, not sure what she was truly looking for. What she was meant to be. Even the things that she could usually count on to distract her from those pesky existential questions had become hard to find since the city had shattered. It wasn't as if the stores were getting regular resupplies, or were even open normal hours. All of it was adding up to make her feel even more unmoored.

Stopping near the Chief's table hadn't been a conscious choice, but when she heard that authoritative voice she couldn't help but look. "Fries actually sound amazing right now," Eliza admitted. When prompted, she slid into the seat with a sigh. "Maybe one or two. I won't stay long."

[traegics]

Open Starter - @darkskiesrpgstarters

Beckham stood in the doorway with Piper balanced against his shoulder, her cheek pressed warm into the collar of his shirt. He’d meant to just pass through—drop something off, say a quick hi, keep moving—but she’d gone still in that thoughtful, heavy way she did when she was about to attempt something ambitious.

He shifted her down to the floor, staying close without hovering. Piper wobbled, found her balance, and then—slow, stubborn little steps—made it a whole three paces before sitting down hard like she’d planned it that way.

Beckham let out a quiet breath, half laugh, half disbelief.

“She’s been doing that all morning,” he said, glancing up at whoever was nearby. “Takes a few steps like she’s got somewhere to be, then decides gravity’s a personal offense.” He crouched, offering two fingers. Piper ignored him, of course, and tried again on her own.

He didn’t rush to help—just stayed within arm’s reach, patient, ready.

“I’m trying not to hover,” Beckham added, dry but fond. “But it’s hard to act chill when your kid’s learning how to fall with confidence.”

[elizanikol]

Eliza watched as Piper began to explore the world in her own unique, unstoppable way - the hallmark of a Mikaelson. Her steps were filled with a determination that only made her little scowl more adorable, and when she sat down hard Eliza couldn't help but clap for her. "She walks like dad. And don't ask me to quantify that, because obviously I've never seen dad as a baby, but she does."

Clapping again when the little one tried to push herself to her feet, Eliza favored Beckham with a grin. "I think some hovering is allowed when they're learning locomotion. Not that I'm a parenting expert, but in my uneducated opinion at least." She watched another few steps, and another hard sit, with a smile. "She's almost there. It's wild."

[traegics]

Open Starter - @darkskiesrpgstarters

Anastasia had her jacket half-zipped, sleeves shoved up, a faint sheen of sweat still at her hairline like she’d come straight from burning off a bad mood. She stood off to the side of the walkway, out of everyone’s way but not hiding, chewing gum with slow, methodical patience while she watched the flow of people pass like she was counting exits in her head.

She clocked the other presence without turning at first. The shift in air. The pause in footfall. The way someone lingered when they didn’t have to.

“Y’know,” she said eventually, eyes still forward, accent threading through the words, “hovering is usually how you get mistaken for a problem.”

She glanced over then, one brow lifting—sharp but not unfriendly.

“If you’re looking for directions, I’m terrible at those. If you’re looking for trouble…” A faint, crooked hint of a smile. “I’m off duty.”

A beat. She popped the gum, hands sliding into her jacket pockets, posture loose but ready.

“So,” she said, tilting her head slightly, “what brings you to my corner of nowhere?”

[elizanikol]

Eliza's grin wasn't dampened by the warning. Anastasia might be badass and scary, but since the day they'd met in the broken bookstore that scariness had never been turned on her. Maybe one day that would change, but for the moment she felt completely comfortable around her.

"You should know by now, hovering is one of my talents. Like blending into the background, and vanishing in a crowd." She got a little closer, but didn't step into the other's personal space any more than she needed to in order to be out of the way of traffic.

"And not looking for directions or trouble, just maybe someone to take me for a cup of cocoa..."

[strawberryxmagic]

"you know i always will. you're my favorite little sister," she teased back. she loved her family so much. so much sometimes, it hurt. but in the good kind of way. "yeah. it's been kinda rough going lately. you, me, and nikki should have a sister's night sometime soon," she suggested. artemis's eyes widened. "really? oh my goodness tell me all about it. and then i can you about the guy i met."

[elizanikol]

"That's the most important prize I'm ever gonna win," she grinned. "And you're my favorite big sister, I hope you know - although if Nikki finds out she might fight you for it." She could never really have picked one or the other, she loved all of her family too much. "Oh yes, please - anything you both want, I'm so down." Eliza blushed, clearing her throat. "Okay, so I was in that wrecked bookstore and we tried to grab the same book at the same time, right? And she was very sweet - she's blonde and beautiful and called me a word in Russian that I really need to find a dictionary for...I don't know if it's going anywhere but my gosh that was like...the first time anyone's looked at me like that."

[strawberryxmagic]

artemis hated that she'd snapped of eliza of all people. her little sister hadn't done anything wrong. she smiled softly as eliza sat next to her and took the coffee from her hand. "you're literally a godsend, you know that?" she asked gently, taking a sip. "i feel like i haven't seen you in forever. how are you?"

[elizanikol]

"I know, but you can keep saying it," she joked, even the playful boast making her blush like she'd made herself sound heroic. "It has been a while, hasn't it? That's okay though; we've both had stuff going on, and the world's breaking and..." she flapped a hand at the window. Arty's question made her blush all the more, and she looked around for anyone lurking at the door before leaning closer. "I met this girl..."

[strawberryxmagic]

artemis felt the tension bleed away - well mostly - at the sound of her sister's voice. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to snap at you," she admitted softly. "coffee is always a help and i appreciate it. sit with me?"

[elizanikol]

Eliza had been completely ready to just leave the coffee and go, because the last thing she wanted was to upset the sister she loved so dearly. But Arty's voice, and the change in it particularly, were enough to get her to change her mind. Nodding, she stepped closer and took a seat as she held out the coffee. "Got your favorite."

[strawberryxmagic]

artemis huffed as she crumpled the paper and tossed it. she'd been trying to find something that could help take the place of her beloved mechanics but nothing was working. she wasn't good at anything else. she heard footsteps. "if you're not going to be helpful, then go away," she huffed.

@darkskiesrpgstarters

[elizanikol]

Eliza pouted, holding out two iced coffees in to go cups. "I mean, I did bring you coffee. Does that count as helpful, or do I still have to go away? I can just leave the coffee, if you want..."

[traegics]

Closed Starter - @elizanikol

Location: French Quarter · Early Evening

The French Quarter always felt louder when Augustus didn’t want it to be.

Music bled from open doorways, laughter carried too easily down narrow streets, and the air smelled like citrus, smoke, and old magic pretending to be tourism. Augustus stood just off the main drag near a wrought-iron balcony half-collapsed from the Convergence, jacket slung over one shoulder, watching a street performer coax flame from his palms like it was nothing more than a trick.

He hadn’t meant to stop here. He rarely meant to stop anywhere lately. But the sense of being watched—of being noticed—had tugged at him until he slowed, instincts humming in that quiet, unhelpful way that came from spending too much time adjacent to danger.

“Usually,” he said without turning, voice easy but edged with awareness, “when someone’s following me this carefully, they either want something… or they’re deciding whether i’m a problem.”

He glanced back then, blue eyes catching on the familiar silhouette just a few paces behind him—dark hair, steady posture, that unmistakable Mikaelson gravity that didn’t announce itself so much as exist.

Augustus straightened, expression shifting into something polite, guarded, and faintly curious all at once.

“Eliza, right?” he asked, tone measured. Not flippant. Not deferential. “If this is where you tell me to stay out of family business, i should warn you—i’m very bad at taking orders i don’t understand.”

A beat. The music swelled nearby, laughter spiked, and the city kept pretending nothing was wrong.

He gestured lightly toward the fractured street between them, an invitation without pressure. “So. Am i in trouble… or did you just decide it was time we actually spoke?”

[elizanikol]

Eliza snorted quiet laughter, shaking her head. "You know who I am, so I would think you'd know that I don't give orders. I don't intimidate people, because I'm not really intimidating. And I'm really not the kind of person who's going to tell you that you're in trouble because I'd have no way to back it up if I did." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Truth is I kind of just fell into step behind you by accident and rolled with it. I'm not sneaky enough to follow you around without you noticing, so I just walked and let you decide if you wanted to call me out on it or just keep going. Looks like you decided."

She moved a little closer, in an awkward and playful little tip toe motion. "Pretty sure you're not a problem. Pretty sure."

[traegics]

Closed Starter - @elizanikol

Ryker had learned which calls were worth taking seriously — and anything that brushed the edges of the Mikaelson sphere always landed squarely in that category.

He stood just outside the perimeter of the compound, leather jacket zipped against the night, badge clipped but not flaunted. The air here felt… dense. Old power, layered and deliberate, like the city itself knew better than to misbehave too loudly on this stretch of ground.

He was mid-scan — exits, sightlines, the subtle hum of wards — when movement caught his eye.

A woman stepped into view near the iron gate, posture calm but alert, the kind of stillness that didn’t come from fear. Ryker straightened a fraction, instincts shifting gears. Not prey. Not threat. Something else. Someone who belonged here.

He took a few unhurried steps closer, stopping well short of her space, hands visible, stance easy but unmistakably capable.

“Evening,” he said, voice low and even. No bark, no bravado. Just presence. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”

A beat, then he lifted his badge just enough to be clear. “Ryker Bradenton. NOPD Homicide.”

His gaze flicked briefly to the compound behind her — respectful, not prying — then back to her face, dark eyes steady.

“Got a report about unusual activity in the area. Didn’t sound like an emergency, but I figured it was better to check than ignore it.” A pause. “If I’m stepping on private ground, you can tell me. I’ll adjust.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into something almost like a half-smile. “Just trying to keep the night boring.”

[elizanikol]

Eliza hadn't come out because she'd seen him, or heard him. She'd just stepped out for some air, and made it right outside the gates before the presence of someone other finally registered with her senses. She froze in place, waiting to see whether it was time to run or engage - whether the person she'd seen was one of the omnipresent threats to the Mikaelsons or just someone who'd happened to wander a little too close to a place that most people knew to avoid.

It wasn't until he held up a badge that she let herself relax with a nod, glad to see that she didn't have to panic. "Homicide?" she repeated, eyes wide. "Hasn't been anything unusual that I've noticed, at least." She gestured to the line where the compound's property began but didn't make any move to run him off. "Mikaelson ground starts there, but don't stress about it right now. Just make the night as boring as you want."

She offered a little smile. "I'm Eliza - good meeting you, officer."

[traegics]

Closed Starter - @elizanikol

Location: A half-collapsed bookstore in the Falls District (the one everyone swears is haunted, but nobody does anything about)

Anastasia did not do bookstores.

Too many words. Too little knife space. Too much… quiet.

But Sasha needed a specific kind of old almanac for some spell research—“the blue one with the cracked spine and the creepy bird on the front, you’ll know it when you see it”—and Anastasia had drawn the short straw.

So here she was, standing in what used to be a cozy little Mystic Falls shop and now looked more like a dragon had crash-landed in the poetry section.

Her boots crunched over broken tile. A stack of books teetered. Something rustled in the romance aisle.

“Okay,” she muttered, rubbing her temple. “If a feral raccoon jumps out wearing reading glasses, I’m just burning the whole building down.”

She reached for a book, tugged— and the entire column collapsed like a cardboard Jenga tower.

“Fantastic,” she said flatly. “Love that for me.”

She crouched to gather the scattered mess just as another hand touched the same book—lightly, gently, like the world hadn’t just tried to avalanche her.

Anastasia looked up.

The woman hovering above her looked like the soft part of a storm—calm face, bright eyes, a smile lingering like she carried it without thinking. Pretty. Too pretty for this dusty wreck.

Eliza Mikaelson.

Of course she was a Mikaelson. Only they made ruin look aesthetic.

Anastasia didn’t move her hand. Or her gaze.

“…If you’re here to tell me I owe the building an apology,” she said, voice low and dry, “I’m absolutely ignoring you.”

Anastasia stood, brushing dust off her jacket, then arched a brow.

“You one of those people who actually likes places like this?” she asked. “Because I’m trying very hard not to suffocate under nostalgia and mildew.”

Her gaze flicked down Eliza—slow, sharp, not subtle.

“Though,” she added, leaning one shoulder against a cracked bookshelf, “if someone like you asked me nicely to put the books back… I might consider it.”

A beat.

Then Anastasia smirked—small, rare, but unmistakably there.

“But only because you look like you’d judge me politely, which is somehow worse.”

[elizanikol]

The bookshop had been an unfortunate casualty of the city's upheaval - left in ruins but not quite collapsed. If her family had known that it was her intended destination for the day they probably would have told her off in case she was buried under stacks or the rest of the place fell in on her, which was exactly why she hadn't told them. The city's other stores had been more heavily picked clean, and she'd decided to expand her search to the collapsed one in case any treasures might be left.

It was more of a treasure hunt than a book shopping experience, but Eliza felt as if she'd found her way into some old story. The broken floor, the stacks of books and the lights that didn't work all combined to create the illusion of a place she had to herself - one only shattered when she heard steps and muttered words from the other side of the stack she was looking at. Stepping around it just in time to watch it fall, she reached out to help and found a hand on hers that made her flush to the roots of her hair.

She listened with a deepening blush to the woman's evaluation of her and the final concession that she might do something Eliza asked - which was crazy talk, but made her feel good all the same. "I love places like this. It feels like Narnia in here. But I promise I won't ask you to apologize to the building, I was just coming to make sure that the stack didn't fall on anyone."

Eliza smiled awkwardly, sweeping dark hair behind one ear. "I'll warn you that I'm really, really good at judging people politely though."

[traegics]

Closed Starter - @elizanikol

The Falls District was unusually calm for once — no sirens, no shifting ley-lines humming underfoot, just late sunlight stretching long and lazy across the rebuilt walkways. Kennedy didn’t plan on stopping, not until she saw a familiar figure perched on the edge of a low stone wall, sneakers tapping lightly against the side like she was keeping time with her own thoughts.

Eliza.

Kennedy slowed, automatically softening her footsteps the way she always did around family she didn’t want to startle. When she reached the wall, she didn’t say anything at first — just tipped her chin in greeting and settled onto the spot beside her cousin, leaving comfortable space.

“Didn’t expect to find you out here,” she said, voice easy, casual. “Usually this is where I come to avoid people.”

It wasn’t a complaint — more like an observation she didn’t mind being wrong about.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, watching the warped river below them catch bits of gold from the fading sun. A quiet moment passed before Kennedy spoke again.

“City’s loud today,” she added. “Thought I’d take the scenic route home.”

Another small beat, then she nudged Eliza’s shoulder lightly with her own.

“You good?” she asked — not heavy, not probing, just cousin-to-cousin. “Haven’t bumped into you since… I don’t know, two crises ago?”

A wry half-smile curved her mouth.

“You know how it is. Time gets weird around here.”

She didn’t push for more. Didn’t ask for it.

Just sat there, letting the quiet settle between them the way it used to when they were younger — casual, familiar, easy.

[elizanikol]

Eliza couldn't have said exactly why she'd stopped. What had led her to climb up onto the wall and take a seat, feet tapping as she told herself a story in her head - a familiar one, taken from one of her favorite books. The sunshine on her face and the self-imposed distraction meant that she had no idea how long she'd been sitting there when slow steps approached and Kennedy climbed onto the low wall to sit beside her.

"Who are you again?" she teased without looking, a smile tugging her lips upward before she turned to look at Kennedy. "Yeah, it's been a minute hasn't it? I didn't expect me to be here either; I went for a walk to look at some of the courts and took the long way home."

She watched the river as well, letting herself connect with Kennedy in the simplest of ways. "It's always loud lately, and I don't know how - but I'm glad you found a quiet spot." Eliza nudged her back just as gently. "Time does get weird; it goes by faster than I know what to do with sometimes. I'm doing okay, though, I guess - made some appointments at the hospital to check in on stuff, read some new books, all the usual Eliza things," she laughed. "And you?"

[vilisisms]

jo’s brows lifted at the sight of the cookie box, the smallest, weary smile breaking through her professional mask. “you just became everyone’s favorite person on this floor,” she murmured, sliding the box toward the break-room side of the counter with a practiced sweep. “seriously—night shift morale runs on caffeine and sugar. you have no idea how much this will help.”

the warmth in her expression didn’t fade as she looked back at eliza—if anything, it sharpened into something more attentive, more grounded. jo had a way of listening that made people feel like they weren’t just another face in the blur of the hospital. “phones have been… well,” she exhaled, a soft huff of dark humor, “they’re basically modern art at this point. so coming in person was the right call.” at the mention of an endocrinologist, her posture shifted—professional again, but with an undercurrent of quiet reassurance.

“yes, i can help with that,” jo said, pulling the schedule monitor a little closer and waking it with a tap. “we’ve got two endocrinologists on rotation right now—dr. harper and dr. singh. both solid, both still somehow sane despite the state of the world.” she glanced up, meeting eliza’s eyes. “is this for a routine evaluation, or something more urgent? either way, i can get you on the books. just let me know what works for you, and we’ll make sure you’re seen.” then, softer—genuine, “and… thanks again for the cookies. it’s been a rough night. this helps more than you think.”

[elizanikol]

The reaction was all she'd been hoping for - not the words, but the smile behind them that showed just how much the treat might be appreciated. "I'm just glad it'll help; the whole bunch of you are the unsung heroes in this town, and you deserve whatever the rest of us can do to make things better for you. Next time I'll go the caffeine route, so I can make sure not to give you all too much of one or the other."

Eliza nodded, giving the phone a scowl as if that would make it suddenly start working. "Feels like we should lay telegraph lines like the old old days or something. But I'm glad it was the right decision to come in while we deal with all of this nonsense with the technology." Jo's shift into quiet professionalism was comforting and reassuring, and Eliza smiled a little in response.

"Um," she pushed herself to be honest, not letting her nerves get in the way of the care that she needed. "A little bit more urgent. I need some blood tests to check a few levels, and some refills of medication - hard to get that when my old doctor's in the future," Eliza bit her lip. "Honestly I'm fine with either, especially if they're both sane," she smiled. "And you're welcome - I'm really glad it helped."