withdrawn

DECLAN MANCINI thirty-two , hacker ' even they feel the cold '

[fchrenheit-blog]

ofmancini

          it was a constant pull and tug, him trying to be a better man. as much as he knew whatever efforts he gave would end up being bullshit, there were certain opportunities he couldn’t pass up. helping dakota back to headquarters instead of barging back in was one of them. leaving his brother in the dust was another. for fuck sake, he had broken adrian’s rules for the asshole, only to have the man throw the past back in his face. even when he did try, even when he did care, it all crumbled into shit. “ yeah, you can go ahead and get the fuck out. ” he hisses, making a hand motion toward the door. “ here, while you’re at it, you can have your knife. it was lodged into my fuckin’ back, you piece of shit. ” he had stuck his neck out for declan time and time again, only to be lied to and betrayed. had it come to the point where he couldn’t even trust his siblings anymore?

         “are you fucking serious? metaphorical fuckin’ knives?” maybe it wasn’t appropriate in the moment, but the laughter had declan before he could really do anything to stave it off. “jesus fuck, wes. stop acting like a fuckin’ one man soap opera.” then the content of the words caught up with him, and sobered him. “i had reasons not to tell you. good ones. it would’ve fucked everything up. like it has now.”

[fchrenheit-blog]

dvkotacho

              if she was avoiding a certain someone she probably shouldn’t have been hanging around the basement for some time. but there was a fear struck in her that remained ever since the event.  “  nothing. fuck happened to you ?  ”  she snapped back, glad that the blanket covered her injured foot. 

         so her personality was still intact. great. “bullshit. i saw you; i know there was something.” again, he found himself wondering – honestly wondering, because he’d never been able to make complete sense of it – why he bothered.

[fchrenheit-blog]

unconvcntional

              COMMON SENSE       had a tendency to fall short from her as well as proven with each point the other would make.           ❝         a rookie, then.       ❞            it came off more as a question than an actual statement, as if she no longer trusted the accusations she’d make.             ❝       you’re not gonna find anything good to eat in there.    ‘nless you actually have an interest in stainless steel and jacketed lead    -     in which case        ❞            hands move to gesture towards the aforementioned fridge.          ❝         dig in, dude.       ❞           

         he couldn’t decide if the gun being left by a rookie was a notion that calmed him or distressed him. rookies had excuses, certainly. but they were also in the 212. potential liabilities. whatever – it was mostly adrian’s problem. declan heaved a long suffering sigh. “yes. i noticed. there has to be something, though.” he opened another cupboard, only to find a roll of paper towels and an empty jar. “fucking christ. there was food three days ago. it’s like living with a goddamn pack of werewolves.”

[fchrenheit-blog]

      if he’d gone back in time and told the declan of several months ago that he’d one day be seeking dakota out to check up on her wellbeing, he would have hired a psychiatrist, but here he was. he found her eventually. “what happened to you at the masquerade?” he asked. “wes didn’t say.” @dvkotacho

[fchrenheit-blog]

      he can’t avoid his brother forever. just like he apparently couldn’t avoid the truth forever. near the end, though, he hadn’t even been trying – he’d done this to himself, entirely voluntarily. after having managed the facade for so long, it felt like a bit of a betrayal. he had betrayed himself. he walks through the doorway to find wes in the room, and doesn’t turn around and flee. instead, he gives his brother a curt nod. on his way over to what he came to get, he asks: “how are things?” @ofmancini

[fchrenheit-blog]

fkarnavlt

          ⟡ “ I’VE HEARD THAT AMMO LOSES power in cold temperatures. then there’s the issue of rust. ” how does she know this ? too much spare time by her brother’s hospital bed. “ — but you look hangry and i’m sure that’s the last of your concerns. bin the gun, you can have my waffles. ”

      all his ire evaporates at the offer of the waffles, and he sits down at the table. “thanks. the issue of rust... brought on by the air in the fridge? but i can’t see the practical side to putting a gun in the fridge, no matter the effects.”

[fchrenheit-blog]

unconvcntional

THERE IS ABSOLUTELY    no shame in the way she reaches for the weapon,  wrapping fingers around the handles as she examines it.            ❝     it hardens the bullets.   makes ripping through flesh a lot easier and more painful.       ❞            &     then an ( internal debate )  on whether or not she should point the gun at the questioner:     NO      she decided.    lips, instead, crack open into a smile as she   places the weapon on to a nearby counter.             ❝       kidding!   it’s not even mine.    probably someone in medic who believes freezing this shit will sterilize it.       ❞  

      he is not sure what possesses him to let her reach around him and take the gun. whatever it is, he hopes its out of his system now; he can’t afford to be so stupid all the time. “i think the point of the medics is that they understand freezing things won’t sterilize them. and that the way to freeze things is probably to put them in a freezer rather than a fridge. this was some dumbass.” he shrugs. “but oh well. we can’t all have common sense.”

[fchrenheit-blog]

mxnnies

“ironic in a speak of the devil and he shall appear kind of way. the one person who’d be offended by my geriatric comment is the one person forgetful enough to leave a gun in the refrigerator.” she waves her hand vaguely along with her brief explanation. “yes, just last saturday i tried to shank sweet gertrude down at the grocery store with the key to my ex’s apartment,” the sarcasm flows freely now that she’s settled into the conversation (and her perch on the countertop). “i wasn’t trying to get deep with metaphors and glorification there, socrates. i’m just saying it’s a pretty staple accessory for more than a few people around hq.” 

      declan, who wasn’t entirely sure – he was a computer programmer, not an english specialist – said: “that’s not irony. just an expression.” he saw a cupboard he hadn’t scoured for cereal yet, and went to open it up; there was a packet of ramen in it, and little else, but it worked for him. “i hope gertrude didn’t press charges. or, if it didn’t work out that well for her, that you took care of the witnesses. and yes, of course. people have keys. you win. hey, irony,” he turned to her again. “you know any good takeout?” the instructions on the packet of ramen were too gratuitous; he was giving up.

[fchrenheit-blog]

ofmancini

        “ yeah, reminds me of you. ” he returned, spinning it right back on declan. wes nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a dog treat. “ these were supposed to fuckin’ help and they didn’t. ” even after an hour searching for an answer on his phone, duke proved to be more of a pain in the ass than expected. “ you couldn’t have gotten me a fish or some shit? a snake, a turtle? none of those things make noises. ” truth be told, it was a good thing that declan had decided to gift him a dog. duke was good at reminding wes when he needed something. if he had owned an animal in a cage, it’d be dead within a week.

      “i had a girlfriend with a fish once. maria. remember her?” he hadn't liked her much; the average person wasn't, in his opinion, well suited for a relationship with him. he was a little too... high strung? he wasn’t sure. in part, blame could be assigned to his early life, but that didn’t really matter – it wasn’t about blame, but rather about what was. and maria had been average, in a sweet way. “it fucking died and she cried over it.” he smiled. “and that’s the real reason i broke up with her.” to be fair, he’d been young, and she’d been one or two years younger. and it had been a horrific death, even for a fish. “the treats don’t help on their own. it’s about technique.”

[reginalehane]

[fchrenheit-blog]

kenzc

                 a hand goes to pat her waistband to do a check for the gun usually housed there. a sheepish smile finds itself growing on her face as she glides past the younger mancini brother and safely secures the gun, “ oops !! that was definitely me. ”

      he stares, shock plain on his face. it’s not only that she left the gun in the fridge. it’s also that she admits it so readily. he shrugs it off and steps aside so that she can retrieve it from the fridge. she’s the sort of person to know where he can get something to eat. “do you know of any food in this place?”

[fchrenheit-blog]

cbver

                 clover sits at the table, as she had been for the past half hour, making her way through the bowl of lucky charms. “ i saw that in there too, ” clover supplies, legs swinging, “ wasn’t sure if that was normal or not. ”

      he considers this for a minute. “that’s fair,” he says, before shutting the fridge door on the gun and joining his sister at the table. he nods to the lucky charms. “where’d you find those?”

[fchrenheit-blog]

mxnnies

minnie hops up onto the countertop, boot clad feet dangling freely. she leans in towards him like she’s somehow going to be able to recognize the gun’s owner just by staring at it intensely enough but then she straightens to shrug, giving up on the endeavor. “watch it end up being him that’s left it there – just for irony’s sake.” she lets out an indifferent hum before bobbing her head in a nod. “most regular people don’t leave their home without their keys and feel like they’re missing something important when they accidentally step out with ‘em. tell me people ‘round here wouldn’t feel the same way about their gun of choice –” her eyes drop back to the gun in question, “besides our forgetful friend, here.”

      “what’s ironic about that? you’ve lost me.” it actually would make sense. of all the people to leave a handgun in a fridge, declan would be... not the least surprised he could possibly be, but it wouldn’t give him a heart attack to find that it had been wes. “i disagree. maybe there’s something to it, but have you ever tried to kill a person with a key? there’s a drama that people ascribe to guns that places them in a different category altogether. well. some people. but have you ever heard of someone glorifying a key? if not using it for some godawful metaphor?”

[fchrenheit-blog]

babybnntt

“Did I hear that right?” Baby raises a brow, peering away from the tabloid they’d been reading– Ok! Magizine, to be exact. They look towards Declan, splaying out the magazine onto counter, before placing their elbows on it and leaning somewhat, now slightly off the stool they’d been sitting in. “Wowww! and here I thought I’ve seen it all. Honey, someone is really gonna find themselves in a pinch without that bad puppy!” He coo’s, looking towards his empty coke can, they fiddles idly with the bendy straw in it before looking back towards the other.  “Ohhh, can you hand me another soda pop, I’d be super duper grateful.” Baby draws out words, like every syllable is sweeter than the last, as if that last drink coated their tongue with sugar. “You know maybe someone just got a bit too tipsy and forgot it in there. Seems a bit dumb tho’.” They shrug.

      “if you ever call it soda pop again i am going to kill you,” declan informed him solemnly, as he handed baby another can of coke. he looked at the empty can on the table, and then at baby, and then at the empty can again. “you been here this whole time? and you didn’t see who left the gun?” declan crossed his arms. “it was adrian, wasn’t it? you covering for him? or fuckin’ wes?”

[fchrenheit-blog]

mxnnies

“don’t look at me – apparently i can’t be trusted with a firearm yet. have you questioned a few of the gangs older members? i’ve heard of people whose memories are fading putting their keys in the freezer.” her joke is probably a smidge insensitive but minnie’s never claimed to be the most politically correct person out there. besides, is there even room for being pc in a fucking gang?

      he looked at her critically, but only for the briefest of moments. he hadn’t been in the gang that long himself, but rookies were still... odd to see. “you’re right. you can’t be trusted with a firearm yet.” he examined the gun, established that he'd never seen it before, and sighed. "don’t say that in front of my brother.” he wondered if he himself counted as one of the older members. it wasn't impossible. "are keys and guns really comparable?"

[fchrenheit-blog]

[ UNKNOWN NUMBR ]: party, 57th street. suit the fuck up. & don't embarrass me. - a

[ declan ]: unknown #[ declan ]: be happy i didn’t pretend i didn’t know who the fuck this was[ declan ]: u lose ur phone in jail ?

[fchrenheit-blog]

dvkotacho

               “  oh, eat a dick, declan,  ”  if she rolls her eyes anymore, they may roll right into her head. dakota opens the fridge again, grabbing the milk and pouring her a glass. ( who the fuck drank milk straight anyway ?? )  “  well, excuse me for wanting to eat a uniquely shaped cake that doesn’t look like a fucking yellow-ass butt plug with overalls on it !  ”  in an effort to calm her frustrations, she takes a swig of the milk before slamming her glass onto the counter. 

      “i’d rather eat a dick than a fucking gun.” he crosses his arms and glares at her glass of milk as if it had threatened him personally. “i gave you two options. you’re picking the fucking minion. you could have picked spider-man, but you’re picking the fucking– how did you put it? ‘butt plug with overalls’? charmingly descriptive, by the way.”