The beginning of a smile on his face threatened to melt any composure left in her. The usually stone-faced bartender, the mysterious presence that orbited around her like a pull she couldn't ignore, was smiling. She could feel his discomfort despite the party around them, and she felt better knowing she wasn't the only one in her misery.
''I know exactly what you mean,'' she agreed with a nod, already itching to head back to the office before going home. Workaholics, maybe, but she liked to think she'd built something safe enough for both of them to feel strained away from their habitual comfort.
''They don't compare,'' Carla immediately reassured, patting at the empty stool beside her. It was innocent enough that no one could assume she was longing to examine him further, watch the flutter of his lashes over deep baby blues up close.
''Maybe you can help me put some names on the few faces I don't recognize?'' she suggested.
realizing she was talking about him, complimenting him, it took everything in him to not plaster a smile. no one ever really took time out of their day to do that for him. and it made something warm settle low in his chest, an unfamiliar feeling. nevertheless, he did his best to ignore it as he slid to the empty stool.
"i can do that," he murmured. he had always been good with faces, more out of survival than anything. "are you lookin' to recruit for the bar or are we talkin' people that are definitely outta place right now?"
There were days where he worked the bar, but most of the time he was doing tasks behind the scenes. This night being no different. However, he immediately came to the front where a patron definitely was drowning their sorrows in the events that had happened recently. Having heard their antics loud and clear from where he had been standing. Grief changes shape but it never ends. The man knew that all too well so he showed some empathy for the individual in question. "How about I call you an Uber and send you home with some free food? I am going to have to cut you off for the night. . ."
he wasn't sure what just happened, just that he had somehow gotten in the middle of it. everything was a blur yet slow when he was drunk as a skunk. he shouldn't have sat in between two people who seemingly hated each other. and then he was the one getting screamed at. at least it seemed to be over.
"i'm gonna be honest with ya, i really didn't start anything." josh was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. he didn't want to be unwelcome at a place where he wanted to be. "but i mean if you wanna call me an uber, i'm not gonna go out kickin' and screaming, especially if i'm gettin' one of those doggie bags. i just don't wanna come back to my picture up somewhere sayin' that i'm banned or somethin'."
open starter @dustanddevilsstarters
WHERE: duchannes vineyard
THE air carried the faint sweetness of grapes, though harvest had ended weeks ago. It was a quiet afternoon, warm gold light across the rows of vines, birds stitching small shadows through the sky. People came and went at the vineyard, some for work, some for quiet, some just passing through, and Pearl noticed them all. Notes filled the edge of her notebook—practical things, things to remember, things that might matter later.
She glanced up at the person nearby, offering a small nod.
“How's everything?” she asked, considering the circumstances happening in town. “Tell me if you need help. I can probably point you the right way." After all, she knew the mountains like the back of her hand.
this place was way too fancy for him. niko wasn't quite sure what exactly led him to the vineyard, considering that he hadn't really set foot on it before. curiosity, maybe. nonetheless, it was quite relaxing, when he wasn't thinking about the fact that he felt like a fish out of water. "everything's nice. he replied, which was true. the wine was nice. though, he never really had bottles that were more than ten bucks anyways. "should i be going somewhere specific?" maybe there was a secret passage or something, and this was her subtle way of asking him to ask her about it.
closed starter ★ ari levitt ( @gratified )
location ★ gold rush casino & resort / post plot drop.
Carla had been nursing a drink at the bar for a while now, eyes bouncing from one patron to another, making a mental list of who was in attendance and what she knew of them. Conducting her own investigation was the best use of her time now that everyone seemed on edge, the ever-present tension magnified by the recent news of a murder.
When she felt a presence move to the stool beside hers, she turned, ready to claim the seat taken, and was met with Ari's towering figure. A foreign heat crept up her face, one she promptly hid behind the glass she raised to her lips, sipping from the cocktail to cool herself off.
''I didn't know you'd still be here after the big reveal,'' she pointed out, aware of the tension in the room. ''Figures you'd be gravitating towards the bar. How does it feel to be on the other side?''
as carla spoke, there was an unfamiliar feeling, something pulled at the corner of his mouth. smiling was something he didn't do often, and when he did, he liked to hide it. keep a pokerface, which was ironic considering where they were at the moment. for a second he didn’t say anything, just glanced at the drink in her hand before his eyes flicked back up to her face.
"feels strange being somewhere else, even if i'm not working." he had been lingering more than he probably should have. old habit, maybe—watching the room, nights like this made people sloppy.
his gaze drifted across the room, following the tense clusters of people before settling back on her. up close, she was a lot harder to ignore than the rest of them.
"besides," ari added, "it's better than gamblin' away my life savings." which weren't much to begin with.
there was a beat, his thumb absently tracing the rim of a coaster.
"what about you?," he questioned, tone softening just a little, "you just over here to see how the drinks compare?"
where: back alley of roadside revival
who: @gratified / callum o'rourke
when: two days after the plot drop
The magician... the five of pentacles... reverse three of cups...
Lily frowned as she shook her head and took the cards back, reshuffling her deck, muttering curses under her breath before pulling one more time.
... okay one more time...
... okay one more time...
... okay one more-
She looked up at the sound of the back door of the diner opening, squinting up at the person she was waiting for before going back to the cards.
"Hi, Callum..." She murmured distractedly before leaning forward to peer at the cards before her. "Pancakes today?" She asked, clasping her hands in front of her expectantly, focusing her attentions of her in at the diner. "Extra syrup?"
his mind was a little all over the place following what happened two nights ago, but the world kept turning, and he still had to show up for work. he was basically walking in, feeling like he was half zombie. he probably shouldn't have drank so much. but at the mention of pancakes, his demeanor immediately changed.
"yeah," he said, pushing his hands together for a moment to warm them before leaning back in the chair. "pancakes sound good," he replied as he gave a nod. "hell yeah, i need extra syrup. don't hold out on me." his gaze dropped to the cards, studying them with the same wary look he might give a stranger walking into the clubhouse.
"…they sayin’ somethin’ bad, or are you just bullyin’ the deck into givin’ you a better answer?"
(jordi webber, 29, he/him) You’ve seen niko ariki before. Maybe at the bar. Maybe outside the general store. Maybe walking out of somewhere they shouldn’t have been. They’ve been in montrose for sixteen years, working as a foreman at the freight yard and associésfor the syndicate , and carrying themselves like someone who knows exactly where they stand in a place where loyalties are complicated. They give off calloused fingers and dirty boots, a pot of black coffee, almost always pulling all-nighters energy and seem for the expansion that presses on the nerve of boundary and border — though no one’s quite sure if that’s a moral stance or a survival tactic.
niko was raised by your typical working class parents. his father worked the docks, his mother worked as a nurse, and work was treated like religion in their house. you showed up. you didn’t complain. you handled what was in front of you.
school never held his attention the way engines did. niko learned better with his hands than with a textbook, taking apart bikes and skateboards just to understand how it fit together. he was already spending time around the freight yard as a teenager, picking up shifts and learning the rhythm of shipping schedules. he developed an instinct for logistics early on, how schedules couldn't get fucked up, how everything had to move with precision.
he worked his way up without shortcuts. by his mid twenties, he was supervising crews; and recently, he’d earned the title of foreman, one of the youngest. he doesn’t lead loudly. he leads by stepping into the work himself. his crew respects him because he’ll lift, haul, or repair right alongside them if it means getting the job done correctly.
niko is quiet by nature and someone who he speaks carefully. he shows he cares by doing things for other people like fixing something broken or driving someone home. his competence is what led him to the syndicate. it started small — adjusting schedules, redirecting certain containers, ensuring specific shipments passed through without unnecessary inspection. favors that required discretion more than force. niko understood quickly that infrastructure is power and supply chains control outcomes.
he doesn’t consider himself a criminal, he sees himself as someone who handles logistics. someone who ensures that what needs to move, moves. he rarely asks what’s inside the crates unless knowing is necessary. plausible distance keeps him steady. but he knows enough to understand that stepping back isn’t as simple as refusing a shift. and he doesn't plan on stepping back either.
open to aces & eights members / @dustanddevilsstarters
25 minutes following the plot drop
"this ain't us, right?" an unlit cigarette was between his fingers as he approached. the president's blue eyes held something wild and dangerous, a barely contained rage simmering under the surface. "tell me we didn't have a fuckin' hand in this," the outlaw demanded. it wasn't that roman didn't know what was going on in his club or was out of the loop, he was just also aware that the syndicate still tried to control the aces despite the mc having gone independent. there was always a chance some fucking idiot got convinced to do something incredibly stupid. roman's jaw flexed and his expression remained stern. "spoke to a deputy a bit, there's no doubt it was murder ... you heard anything? anybody talkin' about something?"
he shook his head after a slight pause, trying to think for a hot minute. "if it was us, we'd know," things would've gotten back to roman one way or another, even if it was chip himself who had to tell him. things like this wasn't something you did without club support first. "if one of ours did this without bringin’ it to the table first, that’s not just stupid. that’s dangerous."
"deputy say anything else?" anything could help point towards who it was. "you want me to start askin’ questions?"
( george mackay, 32, he/him ) You’ve seen callum o'rourke before. Maybe at the bar. Maybe outside the general store. Maybe walking out of somewhere they shouldn’t have been. They’ve been in paradise valley for his whole life, working as a dishwasher at roadside revival & aces/eights patched member, and carrying themselves like someone who knows exactly where they stand in a place where loyalties are complicated. They give off tattoos that have lost their meaning, an ashtray full of mostly finished joints, sunglasses after a rough night energy and seem neutral the expansion that presses on the nerve of boundary and border — though no one’s quite sure if that’s a moral stance or a survival tactic. ( j, 27, he/him, est )
triggers: jail, pregnancy, abandonment
raised by a single mom who was always working, it was basically up to cal's older brother to raise him. he taught him the necessities like throwing a good punch and how to roll a joint. most of his teens was filled with him doing reckless things, thinking he was invincible.
he began to prospect for the the aces/eights in his early twenties. the club gave him structure and a purpose. something that meant something for the first time in his life. he kept his head down and did what he was told. he was patched in a few years back, and proudly wears his cut like it's a knight's medieval armor.
a few years back, he accidentally knocked his girlfriend of two months up. by the time their son was born, they had already separated. cal has a hard time letting people in and letting them stay there. nowadays, he sends money when he can, shows up when he can. he goes to birthdays if the club’s not in the middle of something. but he also keeps his distance, justifying it to himself that it's safer that way and less of a chance of his kid turning out like him. in reality, it's more of a mixture of the fact that he also just has a problem with responsibility. his kid definitely gives him a reason to want to be a better person but he also knows that's a lot of work too.
he served some time on the inside, for about sixteen months, and was released a few months ago. officially? aggravated assault. unofficially? well, he's not a fucking rat. jail didn’t harden him, instead he took the time to sharpen his skillset. acting less on impulse when people pissed him off in there. but that has only gone so far in life post-prison. so for now, he's just trying to keep himself out of trouble which is a lot harder than it seems for him.
wanted connections:
baby mama: prob not a big fan of him tbh. maybe on and off. maybe not. idk man.
member of the mc who sponsored him as a prospect
former cellmate
siblings: prob other o'rourke's running around.
co-workers: also works at the roadside revival as per his parole officer's instructions.
rosa couldn't believe that she was stuck working on valentine's day instead of being doted by a rich man, preferably outside of the country somewhere warm. luckily, she knew how to make the best of a situation and working the floor at the casino provided that. her sticky fingers had been in a business man's pocket, pulling out his wallet which accidentally slid from her hands. when her gaze met someone else's as she picked it up, rosa casually strided towards them. "should we be kind and return it or divide our gains?"
he kind of watched the whole thing happen, chuckling to himself quietly. a reminder of why he wasn't the biggest fan of people like that. "guess that depends." chip said with a shrug, looking back at the poor soul who was fucking oblivious. "he doesn't look like a guy who'd miss it." and he wasn't above doing that in that case. "but are just settin’ me up? is there gonna be some asshole cop right outside the door or somethin' waiting for me to say yes?"
a sigh of relief appeared when joshua saw dominic. a familiar face. ranch life was just about the same, no matter what ranch you were on. and maybe that was why josh and dom got along so well. different land, but same familiar work.
"with the amount of us here, i'm surprised none of us accidentally tracked some manure in," he teased, as he cracked a smile at the other man. "now that would've definitely upped your odds of winnin', no one would wanna see near ya." all hypothetical, of course.
"but i've heard we got some incredible luck 'round here, anyways. have you hit up any tables yet?" where has he heard this? nowhere, but facts like that didn't matter once he started hitting the booze.
Rocky was all business, even if this was technically a celebration event. But he would be lying if this shit wasn't just a bit amusing. All these people, with all sorts of alliances. The one's that had their doubts could obviously be seen from their facial expressions. When one didn't show up, everybody knew about it so he was almost certain that was why some of them ended up making an appearance. Not wanting to deal with the aftermath and rumors that could stir from it. "You know, if that's your idea of a poker face - you probably should stay away from the tables." A smug smile was set free, perhaps finding humor in the other's stiffness.
ari didn't react right away. he leaned into the stillness, and kept his shoulders relaxed. he wasn't going to say shit that could get him into shit. if there was one thing he knew, it was his lane in all of this. and he liked to stay in his own lane.
"then it's a good thing i'm not," he finally replied, giving him a shrug. maybe no one would really notice if he was winning until it was too late, he had a tendency to just blend in. "i don't trust dealers as far a i can throw 'em." and he had better things to do anyways, which ironically included staying out of rocky's way. this was a prime opportunity to see if anyone had anything nice near their pockets for that matter. "hopefully if someone's counting cards tonight, they got a worse one than i do." he didn't even know if people did that but he would if he could. "gotta go all laurence fishbourne's character on their ass."
❝ did you hear there's a car up for grabs tonight ? ❞ he asks it like it's nothing , like the thought just drifted through his head and slipped out by accident . casual , like he hasn't already run through every possibility . make and model . manual or automatic . factory alarm or aftermarket . like he hasn't wondered how long it would take to pop the column , strip the ignition , turn the engine over and get it out of the lot before anyone realized it was gone . that is , if the car was even there . chances are , the winner has to sign some bullshit paperwork . smile for a camera . wait six months — just to have a fucking prius dropped at their doorstep . his mouth twitches . perhaps at the thought of the look on their face , or the possibility of the car waiting unattended .
chip had his fair of idiotic things he did, especially back in the day. hotwiring and taking a car was a lot easier back before cars were basically just computers. however, he still had to stop himself from dreaming about even taking the thing for a spin around the casino. it could and never would happen here but being a bit more realistic about it was a different story. though, he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. "you think they're stashin' it away from us on purpose? cause if it was just sittin’ there with nobody payin’ attention, it'd be a damn shame. just hate seein' good machines go waste." it's not like they couldn't entertain the idea even he knew it wasn't gonna be possible, at least not here. it was better than having to make small talk with other people not in the club.
