isabella lucas

isabella. human. journalist. Living like it all depends on you. Xanax at night, double shot espressos before drawn. Lover’s side of bed still cold. Begging belief from the unforgiving.

[isabellasbyline]

orudalannsean:

“Jut your hips out a little more and you’ll look like Chuck,” Sean smirked, amused with her posturing. “He stands around practically aiming his dick at everything with two legs and a vagina.” Obnoxious, but gullible. Impressionable, as others more polite than Sean would say. He was just this side of getting him caught up with the elixirs, after all. “Maybe we should introduce him to Moldred. He’d probably go for her and she’d be too busy getting her hip blown out that she wouldn’t be berating you.” Rising from the bench as well, he stretched his arms across his chest one a time, pulling on them just enough that his shoulders popped and a looseness began to settle in. “You know, one of these days, I’m gonna collect on all the shit I’ve been exposed to for your benefit, right?” He began moving around the machines, returning the weights he’d been using to their rightful places. Not for the benefit of whoever came in afterwards, but simply to stave off a run in with the old lady on Isabella’s floor.  “I’m keeping a very detailed list. Doubt I’ll learn altruism before then.”

“Chuck and Moldred. Truly a match made in hell,” Isabella didn’t really try to get to know many people in their building. Befriending Sean was mostly a coincidence, a product of trying to expand her horizons and beef up in case one of the shady people she investigated decided to try something. She’d seen Chuck in passing, didn’t have any strong opinions on his person, besides the obvious flaws Sean pointed out. “I mean, I’m down. We’re both going to hell for calling a practically senile old lady ‘Moldred’ and I probably cinched my spot before that ‘cause I watch The Bachelor on a regular basis.” Snorting at the reference to a lack of altruism, Isabella fixed Sean with a look. “What exactly are you gonna demand payment in, Sean? ‘Cause you know I’m perpetually broke from spending too much money on cheesecake and shoes.”

[isabellasbyline]

kaitlinorudalann:

When: Early May, sometime after midnight before 4am

Where: any where

Who: open

Instead of sleeping Kaitlin was once again out running in the middle of the night. She’d already hit the gym but it hadn’t been enough to stop her thoughts. Nothing seemed to be enough. Running around the park included and so Kaitlin was now running through the streets hoping a change in location would do something. Over a month later and her conversation with Davey was still on her mind. The fact that he’d been tricked into the game, and was now trapped, had her wondering how many other players had been. The fact that she knew so little about Bette despite considering her a friend had her rethinking her friendships with everyone and realizing she wasn’t a good friend at all. And of course there was the warning she’d given Davey not to trust anyone. Should she have included herself in that? Should she trust anyone? Kaitlin had thrown herself into training. That familiar hope that if she just won magic would make everything make sense driving her. Only that hope was starting to feel flimsy now. Kevin was living proof that everything she’d hoped to gain with magic might not happen after all. Which left her with nothing to hold on to. Hope was slipping through her fingers no matter how hard she tried to hold onto it.

Kaitlin was spending more and more nights trying to outrun the reality she’d spent her entire life ignoring. But no matter how fast or often she ran everything was catching up to her now, impossible to outrun. Finally Kaitlin gave up trying for tonight and stopped running. Looking around she realized she had no idea where she was. She tried simply turning around to go back the other way but that didn’t lead anywhere familiar either. Kaitlin couldn’t even be sure this was the way she’d come. She was lost. She didn’t belong here. New York wasn’t her home. Rudalann wasn’t her home. An Sídhean wasn’t really either. Not helpful. Without thinking Kaitlin approached the first person she saw. Trying to focus on the problem at hand. “Excuse me! What street is this?” She just needed to get back to her apartment.

As a general rule, Isabella didn’t trust people who exercised in public. Either they were immune to humiliation or they were fit enough that they were unconcerned with the judgments of the common-folk. Either way, there was something obnoxious about it. Even still, the girl who’d approached her looked young, kind, and lost, and that was generally a dangerous combination this late at night. “East Broadway and 42nd,” Isabella said on impulse, brow knitting in concern. “Are you lost? Where are you trying to go?”

[isabellasbyline]

forcstfire:

As she wiggled her eyebrows at him in a suggestive manner he tried not to roll his eyes, a subtle smirk playing on his features. “That isn’t exactly your business,” he pointed out bluntly, “But she’s just a friend.” Even as she spoke her next statement in a somewhat nonchalant manner he felt the edge to it, the accusation he wished he could supply a response too. He felt bad about it, the fact that he’d pretty much disappeared without a word when they’d previously spent time together regularly. He’d just been so wrapped up in everything then (not to say that he wasn’t still). Even so, attempting to give her an explanation was sure to only dig him in a hole, especially when he knew Isabella was bound to latch onto every word and prod for more. So instead he didn’t bother with trying to explain himself and just gave her a smile, hands tucking into the pockets of his jacket as he fell into footstep beside her. 

“After that? You don’t owe me anything.” He didn’t want to think about the tragedy that was Imbolc; the death of a Seelie that continued to be an unsolvable mystery. Cobalt and Willow had spent an endless amount of time scrutinizing the evidence to come up with no explanation. They had tried to label it a prank, but even Forest could see how thin that veil was. “I definitely won’t refuse the cuteness discounts though, even if it’s second hand.” Her tease is met with a somewhat self-deprecating chuckle, “Ouch, Is. That’s so hurtful.” 

That isn’t exactly your business. The statement was an occupational hazard, one Isabella had heard too many times to be swayed by. Instead, her mouth tipped in a small smirk and she raised her hands in a universal ‘I’m backing off’ gesture, though her curiosity still burned in her throat. “If you feel like sharing,” she prefaced, and though the slight disclaimer was typically a formality, this time it came from a more genuine place, “do you have anything going on in that department worth sharing?” They hadn’t talked in so long, and since Kevin seemed fully prepared to dodge any and all career-related questions, she decided to try and move into the personal. Everyone had a relationship or something crappy to say about their most recent first date, right?

Isabella waved her hand dismissively. She didn’t owe him anything, that was true, but she was still grateful she hadn’t been completely alone that night. “Yeah, well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m super mean now. Basically a bully. I don’t know if you’ll wanna be pals anymore, we’ll have to take it on a trial basis.”

[isabellasbyline]

goldmalice:

Goose bumps rippled across his skin at her touch and Adare’s head dipped, lips lazily tracing her collarbone with soft kisses in appreciation for it. He enjoyed soft touches; he always had. And while he had no problems when it came to doling out acts of physical affectionate, he especially enjoyed receiving them. She’d nearly gotten a purr out of him with that one, though her comment about her legs did get a quiet laugh out of him. “You’re welcome for that,” he teased, leaning over to kiss her. 

Working one arm beneath himself, Adare twisted and propped himself up, head resting against his upraised hand. “Oh, yeah, it’s real rough going from your cold bathroom floors to my heated ones,” Adare snickered. “I need that early morning wake up call some days and I just… can’t get that here.” Those some days were practically once every blue moon. He’d grown up in what had been the height of luxury for the time and he had no intentions of ever actively ‘slumming’ it. He doubted he’d even know how to appropriately do such a thing. No, he was content here in his apartment. It’d already been too big for just Adare to live in by himself, with three bedrooms and bathrooms, but that hadn’t stopped him from buying out the one next door and having them combined so that the place seemed to stretch on endlessly.

“Is it as ridiculously luxurious as you thought it would be?” Reaching behind him, Adare found a small remote on the nightstand and pressed the center button so that the curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows began to roll back. “Or do you need a grand tour to decide that? Once your legs are functioning again, that is.”

She rolled her eyes at the tease, a grin playing at her lips. The past few weeks she’d woken up with a jolt, her apartment cold (’cause she couldn’t afford to keep it any warmer) and empty (’cause she couldn’t handle the distraction). This morning, though, she was warm, and the bed was so soft she was nearly sinking into it. Fuck. She wasn’t the kind of girl who could be content with a life as leisurely as this, but there was something to be said for it every once in a while. “You’re trying to tell me that was a completely selfless service you performed last night,” Isabella said skeptically, “I mean. You’re hot and all, but. Look at me.”

As stupid of a problem as it sounded, Isabella strangely understood. A painting came to mind. She couldn’t remember the artist, but the subject had stuck with her. A perfect utopia where the sweetest fruit was the lowest hanging, the fattest birds offered their necks for slaughter, and the people were perpetually sated. There had been something dark about it, something unsettling. “Well,” she said, brushing all thoughts of a utopic trance away, “next time, let’s just sleep here and I’ll slap you at 8 AM to get your day going. Sounds like a fair compromise, right?” 

Truth be told it exceeded even her high expectations, and she knew from the simple glance over his shoulders. She could likely guess what kind of opulence stretched further into the apartment, but she supposed a tour wouldn’t hurt. It might keep her humble. And though she could scarcely imagine living anywhere but the lower east side, maybe it would become something to aspired to. “Fine,” she sighed in mock surrender, but pressed a tantalizing, lazy kiss to his neck before sliding out from under him and pressing her feet to the heated flloors. “But you better not have any child emperors hiding in one of these rooms.”

[isabellasbyline]

handofglories:

“Well, I feel it’s my duty to say that you don’t have to – but I won’t say no to a coffee,” Oleander said, dark-painted lips curving into a warm smile. Befriending miss Lucas could be a worthwhile effort.. she seemed driven. If nothing else, she would be wonderful company.

“I’m Oleander,” she continued, holding her hand out for a shake, smile a little softer around the edges, but still present.

“Do you have a place near here in mind?”

“That’s beautiful,” Isabella said honestly, giving Oleander’s hand a ginger shake. That was some kind of flower, right? She made a mental note to look it up later. “Isabella Lucas, pleasure to meet you.” 

Isabella contemplated the question for a moment. “Tiff and Asha’s, right around the corner,” she decided, beginning to walk in that direction, knowing Oleander would fall into step. “Cute little old couple owns it, and they’re open at outrageous hours. If I could marry a beverage, it would be their dirty chai latte. Really hits the spot, especially on a night like this.”

[isabellasbyline]

forcstfire:

Excuse. The term made it sound as if he wasn’t allowed to be here at this hour, like Isabella knew something more than she was letting on. Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t, Forest wasn’t really willing to find out. He had enough on his hands without having to determine what was also going on with Isabella. “I was visiting a friend,” He answered simply, “lost track of time, I guess.”

As her chin jerked in the direction he had indicated before heading in that direction with words that didn’t seem to indicate he had much of an option Forest turned slowly on his heel, chewing the inside of his cheek, before following after her. “Sure, coffee sounds good.” It did, actually, and he missed spending time with Isabella like they used to, but her demeanor was feeling less friendly and more journalist-y. He’d been harassed for answers by far too many people lately. Maybe he was crazy for thinking things could just go back to normal, but he sure as hell wished it were easier than all this.

When she was in this kind of mode, everything seemed suspicious to Isabella. For a moment, she decided to shut that part of her brain off. She was likely to start reading into interactions, trying to force connections where there wasn’t any. It was very likely Kevin had a friend in this part of town, and it was perfectly understandable he’d stay late talking to them. She didn’t need to consider it further than that. “A special friend?’ she asked, eyebrows wiggling. “I can only guess. I have no idea what you’ve been up to this past year.” 

Isabella was glad Kevin indicated some interest in hanging out, even if she hadn’t given him much choice in the matter. “I’m buying,” she assured, “II feel like I owe you after checking in with me after that shit at that crazy party. Plus everyone thinks I’m cute so they throw in the employee discount. You are the other hand,” she waved at Kevin’s chiseled jaw, clearly above-average physique, “a face only a mother could love.”

[goldmalice-deactivated20190804]

when: may 2 2018 where: grand tier 12a who: @isabellasbyline

Considering what he’d gotten up to last night, it surprised him none to wake up at what he suspected was early afternoon. A groggy glance at his phone, abandoned to his nightstand for the majority of the day before, confirmed that it was, in fact, early afternoon when his eyes finally drifted open. He was slightly more surprised to find a warm body in his bed, if only because it wasn’t often that Adare brought anyone in here, much less let them stay the night, but the details cleared up quick enough once the details, blurred as they were by far too much alcohol, Oleander’s herbs, and a few Unseelie elixirs, began to filter in through his still sleepy state. 

He’d found Isabella, again, towards the end of the night and just this side of going home with someone else before he’d made his presence known, apparently not quite satiated. Much of the time between then and now was what remained blurry, but he didn’t necessarily need them to piece it all together. The arm thrown across her middle stretched a little further, fingers hooking about the curve of his waist and gently tugging her his way even as he shifted towards her. They met somewhere in the middle with Adare pressing lazy kisses to her shoulder and along her collarbone and up her neck before he nipped lightly at her earlobe. It wasn’t a request for a continuation, to pick up where they’d left off, but a gentle demand for demand for attention. A demand for attention that included a quiet but husky “good morning” when she finally did stir. 

[isabellasbyline]

Isabella, sifting in the strange place between awake and asleep, barely registered Adare’s greeting, but her eyes fluttered valiantly at the nip. It took her a second, but she rubbed sleepily at her eyes and wriggled a little, stretching the best she could in his hold. Her eyes cleared a little and she caught a good look at him and goddamnit, she should’ve woken up early to sneak into the bathroom and brush her hair or something. “Good morning,” Isabella mumbled, running a lazy hand down his spine. She hadn’t slept this well in months. Last night played out in her head, the memory accompanied by a flash of heat in her stomach, and she smiled. “I have a job to get to but I don’t think my legs work yet.”

Whatever. Her boss pretty much let her have free reign anyways - he’d probably assume she was out chasing a story. Her eyes fully adjusted to the morning light and she looked over his shoulder, around the room. She hadn’t gotten a chance to look around properly last night, but from the few glances she’d gotten, it was as rich and lavish as she presumed. “So this is your place, huh,” she said casually, mouth twisting into a slow grin, “I can see why you have such a strong preference for mine. Living here must just be awful.”

[isabellasbyline]

orudalannsean:

Sean grimaced before dropping from the pull up bar. “You’re not helping your case, Lucas.” He didn’t mind running interference on Mildred so that Isabella could sneak by, but there were images he didn’t want or need in his mind. Rather than scooping up her tossed towel, he used the bottom half of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. “The black eye is from a fight,” he said, bending down to snatch the towel up and twisting it up until he could whip it Isabella though he made sure to keep it from actually cracking against her. “This one   ” He tapped at Hazel’s almost faded bruise on his jaw, “   was a bitchy cheap shot. The busted nose and fat lip are from boxing.” Sean dropped onto the empty space she’d made on the bench, long fingers scraping his dark hair back from his face before he flicked said fingers at her. “The real answer, of course, being super top secret and possibly more along the lines of I could have tripped over a hoodie or a jump rope, buuuuuuut…” He trailed off into a shrug and winked at her before nudging her with his shoulder. “How’d you even make it down here without Moldred lighting into you, huh?”

Boxing. Despite the clear consequences of it written on Sean’s face, punching things sounded really good. Isabella needed to follow through on her boxing plans. “Why are you always fighting people? One of these days, I’ll teach you words. You are good at the punching, but me,” Isabella lifted off the bench, shaking her hair out and stretching her arms above her head. She rolled her shoulders back in her best imitation of the kind of douche-y bro Sean probably hung out with. “I am great at the words.” At the mention of Moldred, Isabella’s face twisted into a frown. God, she needed to move. She needed to find herself a full time sexual or nonsexual benefactor and move. “I’m very sneaky and fast. And I also am not embarrassed to take extreme measures in avoiding her, like hiding behind house plants.”

[isabellasbyline]

handofglories:

As soon as she felt herself collide with someone else, Oleander’s hands shot out to steady the other, the warmth of her palms gone as soon as literal balance was restored. As always, her accent marked her as not from here:

“Oh– you don’t have to apologize; blame’s equally mine.” 

Isabella Lucas, intrepid journalist, who had her nose in the Oakenfold’s affairs more than any of them liked. Oleander knew very well who the woman was, though they had never formally met – and she knew just as well that Isabella had been present at Imbolc.

None of it showed in the curves of her smile, no recognition sparking in the fey’s eyes.

“Are you quite alright?”

Isabella’s eyes flicked upwards and she was instantly... the word enchanted felt silly, but nothing else quite fit. Her voice momentarily caught in the inside of her throat, she hurriedly unstuck it, the words all coming out on one breath. “It was definitely my fault, I was distracted,” Isabella steadied her voice a little, stepping back and offering a small smile, “but thank you.”

The woman’s next question made a little heat rise to Isabella’s cheeks. God, she must look a message, especially to this perfect stranger. She couldn’t walk into a fellow horrible trash gremlin on the same sleep to coffee schedule as her? New York was full of them. 

“I’m fine,” Isabella assured, “just, uh, burning the midnight oil or whatever it is responsible adults with jobs say. Can I, um. Buy you a coffee, or anything? As a thanks for not letting me topple.”

[isabellasbyline]

forcstfire:

While there wasn’t anything in particular that dictated whether he could or couldn’t go downtown, Forest felt strangely antsy in the Unseelie territory. Maybe it was simply because so many of the Unseelie found it entertaining to torment him these days that he didn’t like risking a higher chance of running into them. Maybe it was simply the principle of the matter. Either way, he wasn’t hoping to linger long.

Just as he rounded the corner someone walked straight into him. He, of course, wasn’t expecting it, but he gathered his bearings quickly and identified the ‘attacker’. “Hey, no big deal,” he greeted in a friendly matter, far happier to see the reporter than any Unseelie. “Rough night then, huh. I think there is a coffee shop just around the corner.” 

Isabella blinked a few times, startled by the appearance of Kevin. She’d gone years without seeing him, and then he’d cropped up twice in the span of a couple of months? Unfortunately for her peace of mind, she wasn’t the kind of hippy dippy person who believed in coincidences. 

“Hey,” her voice was warm, nonetheless. Better him than a rude New Yorker just waiting for the opportunity to toss their coffee at someone. “Not any rougher than usual, just trying to get some work done. What’s your excuse for being out this late?” She jutted her chin just past his shoulder, starting to walk in that direction. “You can tell me over coffee.” It wasn’t a request, but requests weren’t exactly Isabella’s style in any case.

[isabellasbyline]

when: 9.20 pm where: lower east side, near the ludlow who: open to all

Isabella was deeply and thoroughly exhausted. She was writing an exposé on corruption in the Syracuse city council, but she was also doing a million other things, the most distracting of which was the NYPD’s post-Imbolc investigation. Deciding she needed a break to clear her mind, she abandoned her laptop, slipped on some sneakers and made her way out into the Lower East Side. 

The cold air seemed to clear her lungs, and her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. Unfortunately, that was all the time she needed to almost walk right into someone. 

Stumbling back, she tucked her hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she said, her eyes falling closed and a hand rising to massage her temple, “just one of those nights, I guess. Think I need coffee and cheap ethnic food to get back on game.”

[isabellasbyline]

anteuptyleryoung:

“Well okay then miss no fun, you stick with your gold coins and your starkly not green boring beverages. Why are we rushing out to celebrate if you hate this holiday so much? Riddle me that.” Tyler didn’t have a opinion one way or the other about the ‘Irish’ of the city, but he saw the look that crossed Isabella’s face for just a moment, a far away expression that quickly dissolved a moment later. He didn’t think too much on it. Hell, he was sure he wore the same expression thinking about Jason and what had become of him… “Yeah I mean, he’s good I think. Studying like a crazy person, but what else is new? I’m pretty sure that law library has students that literally live there just because there is so much shit they’re expected to cram into their brains. I’ve seen people sleeping across those benches on more than one occasion.” 

Isabella smiled at the update on Benji. “Law school is wild. You made the right call. BAs do a lot of cocaine but at least you don’t take torts.” Isabella’s smile slowly began to fade, and silence fell between them. A pit was forming in her stomach, but it slowly filled with dread. It was hard to say her next words, but she always offered a small report of some kind when she visited Tyler. There wasn’t anyone else left to care, and to bear the weight of grief on her own was... unbearable. She pursed her lips and fixed him with a more serious look. “Nothing new on the investigation. And Vance is... preoccupied, with some other stuff that came up recently. Possible murder investigation, possible cult ties to murder investigation. It’s really messy, I think Missing Persons is going to go on the back burner before they can make any headway on that.”

[isabellasbyline]

orudalannsean:

Sean was aware of Isabella’s stare, aware that she was either waiting on him to go upstairs or to use the equipment he was currently occupying and, considering she hadn’t moved from the bench in over ten minutes, he figured it was the former. Despite living two floors above her, he still found himself on her floor a few times a week, acting as a human shield between her and her cranky neighbor who had, more than once, opened her door while wearing an alarmingly ill-fitting and thing nightgown. “In about… five more minutes,” he grunted, jumping up to grab the handles on the pull up bar and hauling himself up. He was on his last rep, holding himself at the top and counting internally, when he spoke again. “If she’s wearing that lacy blue thing, you’re on your own. I’m still scarred from last time. Old lady nipples are not my thing.”

Isabella made a displeased noise in the back of her throat, very quickly vacating any and all images of Moldred in lingerie from her mind. Did the Upper East Side have highly trashy yet sexually confident older women? She really needed to get on that marrying rich business. “If she’s wearing that lacy blue thing, I’m fucking moving.” Isabella admitted, rising from the bench and tucking her legs beneath her. “Also, if she’s in a Mood, I’m not sure how you’d escape a conversation. She’d let me walk by but she always wants to talk to you, especially when you’ve got that post-gym glisten.” Isabella waggled her eyebrows and threw a towel at Sean’s face. She was getting bored and when she got bored, she threw things. He was just lucky there wasn’t an exercise ball around. Although, she’d be loathe to inflict more damage when his face was already so... bruise-y. She squinted at him. “How’d you say you got the facial injuries again?”

[isabellasbyline]

when: 11.15 pm where: the gym at the ludlow who: @orudalannsean

Working out was gross. It was supposed to give people endorphins or whatever, but Isabella figured her brain must be more fucked up than she thought because a half hour of cardio and fifteen minutes of weights had only made her more miserable. She had given up all pretense of actually lifting and was now just lying on the weight bench, going between glaring at Sean and watching the minutes tick by on the clock above her head. Isabella shifted her eyes to the former and settled them there. He didn’t look half as miserable as she did, even with the the assortment of cuts on bruises he usually sported. Weren’t people supposed to get further misshapen the more pummeling they took? Everything about life was annoying.

“Are you going to be done soon?” Isabella sighed, carefully slipping out from beneath the weigh bar and stretching arms above her head slowly. “I need someone to shield me from Moldred’s Hallway Death Glare.” 

[isabellasbyline]

ofperidot:

A girl looking for trouble? A woman with an ambitious glint in her eye? And unapologetic about it all? It wasn’t that Peridot was impressed, per say (humans weren’t capable of such feats), but she had to admit - this person had begun to captivate her attention. Peridot would have liked to see her tangled further in the Feyry world. It would either chew her up, or give her cause to flourish. “Is that how you ended up at Imbolc in the first place? Looking for a scoop?” Or was it something more? Oh, she hoped so. The best stories were when humans fell head in first to something they were drawn in by, but had no hope of understanding. Peridot hesitated at her question. Feyry life was sacred. Even Seelie. So instead of nodding, she shrugged. “It spiced things up, didn’t it?” Who didn’t like a little bit of chaos? “Of course, it was crudely done. And there was so much blood. I prefer my sadistic indulgences to unfold a little more delicately. And a little more soul crushing.”

“Kind of,” Isabella admitted, “I was also just bored and someone snapped me a picture of the interior and I couldn’t pass it up. It was a cool night for a while, even with the fermented milk.” Isabella felt silly now, for how enamored she was with the party-planning and decoration. She should’ve been more alert, she should’ve seen the build-up that culminated at midnight. “Sure,” Isabella nodded. Her expression was measured, but her mind was running a mile a minute. Either Peridot was dumb enough to believe that prank - which Isabella seriously doubted, given the clever sharpness that seemed to gleam in her eye - or she was somehow, some way, implicated in the murder. The thought hadn’t quite gotten its bearings yet, it still skirted at the edge of her consciousness with some degree of uncertainty, but she certainly got a whole lot more interested in breakfast. “Do you go to those kinds of parties often?”

[isabellasbyline]

detalbright:

“If you’re going for a Buzzfeed article, it might make for one.” Vance said, a playful grumble to his tone. He pulled his coffee out of the way just in time as she set her handbag and he couldn’t fight the raise of his brow at the sound of pill bottles shifting. Not that he could say much. A walking aspirin dispenser, he might as well have been. People at the station were prone to migraines. He never cared to ask why, simply offered a couple and went on his way. 

He blinked back at the cat on his desk. 

“…Huh, I see.” He nodded and took a sip to hid the smile that started from the term snack-y. For a few moments, the detective was quiet as he assessed and compared the names on the notepad to the list he kept in his skull. Vance had a feeling his furrowed brow style of silence made her uncomfortable, so he cut the silence with a clearing of his throat and another donut hole. “A few of these are familiar,” he said as he tapped his finger against Garfield’s nose. “A good, uh, number of ‘em actually.”

“Contour…?” His eyebrows moved collectively rather than independently as his attention moved from the notepad to Isabella. The detective leaned back, coffee propped on his knee as he rubbed at his eyes with a sleepy yawn. “What? Your face is fine. I just wanted to know how you’re feeling after–Y’know.”

His silent answer to her question was initially a slow nod as his gaze drifted and then returned with full attentiveness.

“Could be better, but I’m making do,” he said after a moment. It was the best he had. His thoughts wandered back to the Garfield list, to the way Isabella had walked into the Capitale. The company they kept, then back to when Isabella walked into the Capi– “Hey, quick question actually. And don’t be alarmed. I’m just, uh, curious.”

He set his coffee down and rummaged through the drawer on his left before he pulled out a small business card. Church Street Boxing Gym.

“I guess it’s two questions actually,“ Vance admitted as he looked up at her, card in hand. “But how do you feel about boxing and what do your Tuesday nights look like?”

Vance was silent for a disconcertingly long time as he looked at Isabella’s list, and while she wasn’t yet an expert at reading him, she could’ve sworn she saw recognition flicker in his eyes. Manhattan was smaller than people liked to admit, so it wasn’t strange that they perhaps knew some of the same people, but Isabella could only hope Vance hadn’t met any of them.... professionally. “You’d tell me if there was, like, a homicidal maniac on there right?” Isabella asked, tapping the toe of her heel against Vance’s desk, “...’cause one of those people knows where I hide the key to my apartment.”

If there was a surefire way to make someone instantly alarmed, it was to say ‘don’t be alarmed’. Isabella’s chest tightened momentarily, but relaxed upon his eventual confession. Boxing. That was kind of badass, she supposed. And maybe not an altogether terrible idea, since she spent so much time hunting for the people who disappeared her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. Whatever. 

“I don’t entirely hate that idea, but you should know I have zero money to pay for lessons.” She plucked the card from between his fingers, examining its frayed edges with curiosity.  Yeah. Maybe this was... yeah. Could only help her in the long run. “If I get good enough at this, will you let me hold your gun?”

[isabellasbyline]

anteuptyleryoung:

“Green just means it’s festive, which makes it even better.” A smile crossed his lips as Isabella wrinkled her nose at the thought - reinforcing Tyler to force anything and everything colored green for the holiday on her purely for the entertainment he’d get out of it. He’d probably end up eating/drink all of it himself, but he wasn’t opposed to that, either. “C’mon Is, where’s your holiday spirit?” St. Patrick’s Day had never been one of Tyler’s favorites, but any excuse to drink all day wasn’t a bad day to him. “Other than school stuff, I dunno, not all that much. Probably getting on Benji’s nerves, watching the stocks, playing the games - the usual.” 

“Green reminds me of snot. Or the Nickelodeon slime. There’s nothing exciting about this holiday. ...Also all the Irish people in this city are fucking weird,” she muttered, mind drifting back to Imbolc. She figured those freaks would be having some kind of get-together that night, but as hungry for a story as she was, she wouldn’t go looking for it. She was loathe to admit, but that body had shaken her. At the mention of Benji, Isabella’s interest perked. She, Jason, Tyler, and Benji had hung out on more than one occasion, and the mere mention seeded a sickening kind of nostalgia in her stomach. So much about their lives used to be simple. “How’s Benji doing? Handling whatever the older Dalton’s latest scandal is with his usual gravitas?”