she's nervous and barefootchats to me at the front door,
her boyfriend inside's a saintbecoming a martyr . . .
⋆ ⭒˚。 [ paul mescal, cismale, he/him. ] was that FITZ COOPER i just saw over at VORTEX ? you know, the THIRTY-THREE year old BARTENDER AT GRAZE & CO that’s been around willow glen for EVERY MOMENT OF THIER STUPID LIFE, EXCEPT THAT ONE TIME HE RAN OFF TO AUSTIN FOR A MONTH. people around town say they can somehow both be DETACHED and CHARMING, but if you were to ask them, they’d probably say they’re more like FUMBLING AROUND IN THE BACKSEAT LIKE TEENAGERS, GETTING WASTED LIKE ALL YOUR POTENTIAL, A HOUSE FIRE TAKING ALL SENSE OF SECURITY AWAY, THE MOMENT OF SILENCE IN THE AIR BEFORE SPLASHING INTO THE SURFACE OF A LAKE, A WEAPONIZED SOUTHERN DRAWL. the town sure has been rumbling about them lately, apparently they BELIEVE THE FIRE THAT DESTROYED THE COOPER FAMILY'S HOME IS HIS FAULT — NOW, HE IS TERRIFIED TO ADMIT IT TO ANY OF THE OTHER COOPER SIBLINGS, BECAUSE THEY MAY FINALLY DECIDE HE'S NOT WORTH THE TROUBLE ANYMORE, BECAUSE THEY MAY FINALLY DECIDE HE'S NOT WORTH THE TROUBLE ANYMORE . . . but who knows if that’s true, i guess i’ll just have to stop by WILLOW PARK and find out !
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statistics.
full name: fitzgerald "fitz" cooper. nickname: do not call him that full name. date of birth: june 6, 1992 ( 33 years old ). zodiac sign: gemini. place of birth: willow glen, tx. current location: willow glen, tx. gender: cismale. pronouns: he + him. sexuality: equal opportunity bisexual. languages: english ( native ) . parents: natalie & richard cooper. siblings: 6 siblings, of which he is the youngest son, more info incoming. children: 6 siblings, of which he is the youngest son, more info incoming. partner: pearl vaughn-palmer ( affair partner ) , co - parent ( high school sweetheart ) , various exes ( are you single in willow glen if he hasn't hit you up on tinder ? ) !
aesthetics.
pounding bass and the lights flashing in random order a mess of a martini — definitely both shaken and stirred swiping right on far too many people and collecting enough matches to assuage long-held insecurity a cunty little earring running away the second anything starts to feel truly real never quite finding a place where you fit in flames lapping at your ankles in every dream shout by tears for fears the melancholy that comes upon waking up from a nap and hearing the pouring rain outside top notes of sandalwood, amber & cedar . . .
stylistically.
he's very much a sloppy kind of guy. it's mid-80s mess, all of it acquired by finding the goofiest t-shirt at the thrift shop. his mainstays are an array of those old shirts, some often cut into half-assed crop tops, and jeans that barely seem to fit him on a good day. he's not got a lot of passion for how he looks on a day-to-day basis — unfortunately people have gassed him up a bit too much and he knows he's good looking, and doesn't put that effort in. the one thing he does care about are his collection of vintage adidas high-top sneakers, though.
personality.
the person who's the life of the party, a social butterfly that you step back from an interaction with realizing... wow, you don't know that much about him, after all? he tells everyone that he's an open book, when really he keeps a lot of insecurity and anxiety close to his chest, and even though he's getting into plenty of antics and making plenty of stupid decisions, he's never truly letting himself be his entire, real self.
to the general population of willow glen, he's that guy you know from behind the bar and on the dance floor, more a local celebrity than a real person. he's never one to turn down a night out, and can be found at vortex acting like an idiot on most nights. lately, his family home burning down has created even bigger celebrities of the coopers, and he's decided to not bask in it — for once in his life. not all press is good press, huh?
to those he's "dated" over the years, he's the unreliable dirtbag boyfriend you went out with because you wanted to piss your parents off really bad. or, he's the guy you went home with once and never texted back again. really, he's totally willing to be a warm body when you need it — and he'll fuck off and do something else when you don't. there aren't a lot of real relationships under his belt, mostly because he practically runs screaming as soon as anything becomes real at all.
to his siblings, he is their shithead younger brother. the burnout, the asshole who calls to ask for spare change, he never really wanted to make anything of his life — and was completely comfortable with smoking cigarettes under the bleachers while his siblings all made the honor roll. he's got a inferiority complex a mile wide when it comes to them, and he's terrified of finally fucking up so badly that one day they all decide he isn't worth the effort anymore. until that happens, he'll happily stay right on that line.
to his coworkers, he's the guy you can always bum a cigarette off of, and the guy who wants to go out once they close down the bar. he's worked at plenty of bars over the years, but fresh & co has been home for... longer than the others. and that has nothing to do with the owner's sister, not at all. don't tell merrick.
the youngest son, and the one who was supposed to be the baby of the family (until a younger sister came along as a surprise), fitz was allowed to get away with pretty much anything. very much to his detriment, it was obvious that he was their mother's favorite for most of his younger years, yet, the second his younger sister was born — he was practically discarded and forgotten, a child who thrived on attention suddenly left in the vacuum of it. and maybe he never really recovered from that, is left in a state of attention-seeking arrested development at just seven years old, trying to find someone who'll give him that unconditional love and attention he feels like he was stolen.
and maybe that would be a good excuse, if the coopers weren't all so close — even though, he felt like an outsider around his siblings, who all had closeness that he never really got included in, and when he entered school, he began searching for that in every single person he met. from strangely-close relationships with best friends to short-lived romances that seemed to shake up the fabric of willow glen high. he was popular, bubbly and personable — but just not as bright as his siblings were. his grades weren't great, and when his parents expected a college decision — he disappointed them again.
he's had one actual relationship — with a girl in high school. his parents were convinced it was what was going to set him straight, but... then things got way, way too serious way too quickly. little pink lines on a test, and suddenly fitz was going to be a father at nineteen. really, they should've known — fitz was going to fuck it all up somehow, like he always did. by the time his daughter, ivy, was born they were already broken up and he was the fun every-other-weekend parent. truly, it worked out for him to continue as he always was but with the added "fun dad" thing tacked on sometimes.
bartending became his regular gig in his mid-20s, and pretty much everything in his life revolves around that. he's bounced around locations, has never been the best at being professional and normal about jobs — so pretty much every bar in town has employed him at one point or another. currently, he's working at fresh & co, after merrick has given him a chance even with all of the awful references from other business owners. and he'll probably squander that, too — especially now that he's gotten tangled up with his boss' sister.
but he'll hold onto sympathy for just a bit longer. just three weeks ago, the cooper family's home burned to the ground. everyone was alright in the end (even though both of his parents were injured), but they lost most everything they owned, and many people have mentioned seeing the fire start up in the attic... coincidentally, the attic where fitz was living. he's convinced that somehow, he was the one who started it — and the guilt is starting to eat him alive, slowly but surely.
status. closed starter for nicky hearst @leavesbeh1nd
setting. lake henry, late afternoon to early evening.
JULIAN HATED FEELING BAD FOR HIMSELF, had never had a single woe-is-me thought in his life because that was loser behavior and the koenigs were not losers. and yet when he approached the docks at lake henry and immediately recognized the back of someone's head as they snapped photos of some birds, something in his stomach dropped and suddenly the vince guaraldi trio was in his head cueing him to do the sad charlie brown walk home. good grief—but fuck grief, right? how was he supposed to know if he should already start mourning what he thought was a good thing? you know, objectively. a lot of people would say that the 'good thing' was, in fact, questionable.
before he got in over his head, he forced his right foot forward, then the left, then the right again, then he let momentum do its thing until he found himself just a few steps away from nicky. he went through the list of things he'd come up with in his head to say when he saw nicky again. there were a lot of really good ones in the roster, too, like 'mystery solved' or 'i see witsec didn't work out' but instead he only managed, "nicky, you're alive!" which sounded more pleased than annoyed—and he really meant to be annoyed, not pleased, which ironically did annoy him enough to at least look the part. finally, he was standing next to nicky, looking out at the water as it broke apart the light of the setting sun in glittering ribbons of gold. pretty. "a picture really would last longer, huh?"
there is a focus, in the way that nicky does things. the world ends at the tip of his camera lens, sometimes. and he really prefers it that way, in his own little world — caught up in the movement of nature around him. he liked the mornings like this, when he'd drop inara off at school and then make his way around town, he always ended up here, at the quietest point near the lakeside, almost void of life except him and these birds, and the occasional duck that would find it's way into the water. it was nice out today, quiet. it would take a nuclear bomb to destroy that peace. and then — there was one.
julian wasn't really a problem, per se. just someone that nicky was trying to avoid. but the truth was, he was avoiding everyone in his life, except his daughter — trying to make sense of a diagnosis that seemed to rattle around his head and the treatment that he was supposed to be leaning on family and friends during, even though he wanted none of their sympathy and support. so, maybe a few... or ten text went unanswered. maybe that made him an asshole. he could live with that.
"that is what i always say," he responds, ignoring the cry of you're alive! as if he's something akin frankenstein's monster, the whole thing making him feel cagey and weird inside — the quip of not for long almost making it's way out there, blowing his whole carefully constructed reality to smithereens. this is why he wasn't answering those texts. instead, he turns, snaps the lens a few times at julian unaware, and hums, "how have you been? i've been... busy, lately, with inana's school year ending."
› 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚄𝚂 : open to 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 responses !!
› 𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 : very early in the morning @ flo's diner.
she scans the menu again, wondering where it's gone. there's a long, long pause while the waitress looks more and more annoyed, "listen, i just — used to get this omelet. it was called the flo. it was literally heaven on earth, why did you guys take it off the menu?" she's not even drunk, just kind of melancholy and she'd spent the day discussing her next tournament with her agent — she'd wanted comfort food. and flo's gave that, and when the waitress responds that they never had that, she can't help but look to another patron for backup, "hey, back me up here, do you remember this omelet they used to have on the menu? called the flo, it had mushrooms and pineapple, it was super weird but it worked."
( open starter from gabriel herrera ! ) gabriel hadn't really been paying attention to the movie for the last fifteen minutes or so. his brows knit, and there's a frown on his face as he studies the little pieces in his hand. "we'll need to have someone revise the design of this puzzle." he held the snack box puzzle, tiny in his large hand as he sighed, tossing it on top of the dashboard. "how ironic, a happy meal should make me happy, not stressed." — location: moonlight drive in
she stares at the puzzle for a while. it's all greek to her, at this point, "why did i used to be so good at these, like... now it's all difficult. are they teaching different math these days to these kids? i can count cards, but that is — like, calculus for 5 year olds." she shrugs, and laughs when he says it should keep him happy, "maybe put the box down and focus on the actual meal. that's the thing that's supposed to be happy, i think."
𝞋𝞎 ˖ ⊹ bonnie was halfway hanging out of the driver’s side window at the drive thru , one hand tight on the steering wheel while the other waved around dramatically as she ordered. “ can i get , ughhhhh … onion rings and a double whopper , ” she said , pausing like she was making a difficult life decision. “ oh ! and mozzarella sticks. wait — no — definitely mozzarella sticks. ”
the poor employee’s muffled voice crackled through the speaker again and bonnie nodded seriously like they could see her. “ yes , babe , i know it’s a lot. i’m healing. ” then she turned suddenly toward the passenger seat , one brow lifting. “ do you want anything ? ” bonnie asked before narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “ and don’t do that annoying thing where you say no. ”
gin has been studying the menu, almost leaned over bonnie's console and staring at the chicken fries part of it. how many did she want? six, twelve, twenty? how many was too many? soon enough, though, bonnie cut into her train of thought, and she grinned, "i would never say that, it's like a few years away from town has made everyone forget who i am." sure, gin had expensive tastes — but she could also throw down at one of those vegas buffets with the best of them. in fact, she'd done it plenty of times on the bellagio's or ceasar's dime, happily going back for more. "why don't you get me a chicken fry meal with a coke and another order of those mozzarella sticks? sounds good, right?"
there’s an air of intimidation that she’s giving that’s very much telling jude not to fuck with her or to say anything else that may act as a catalyst for further ire. all jude knows is that he doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of how she’s staring down the game attendant. “ i’m sure the parents here are a lot more intimidating when it comes to their kids. though you seem like you’re better at throwing a punch than i am, ” jude responds with a light laugh but falling into step with her as they head over. “ that’s the spirit. plus, that dude looks like he’s waiting for someone to start something. ” brown hues peer off over to where the ferris wheel in question and jude can’t even remember the last time he was ever on one. he says as much when he looks back. “ sure, why the hell not ?? i don’t remember the last time i’ve been on one. entry looks to be five bucks and i have a ten so i can cover us. ” he hands over the money to the ferris wheel attendant as they wait in line for the next round of people to go on. he offers her a grin with a slight lift of his shoulders. “ consider it reparations for the bear you would’ve gotten if that guy wasn’t a piece of shit. ”
she thinks about it, for a few seconds. it's just — the truth is, she tries to seem vry intimidating and is... very much the definition of all bark, no bite, "i should let the parents handle it, you're right. i'm sure they'll be even angrier about the waste than i am." either of her fathers would've jumped that guy over this, if she'd been about twenty years younger. she can imagine it, and almost cracks up at the thought, but she doesn't want to show any cracks in the facade to the carnie. "i could've paid. it's not — it wasn't really about the lost money. more the principle of it, you know?" she shakes her head, quickly, and hums, "but, thank you. it doesn't seem as pathetic to go on these rides when you're with someone, you know? i kind of wanted to go, but not alone." that was supposed to be the point of being engaged. yet, where were they? she was all on her own, riding the ferris wheel with a practical stranger. which — she should introduce herself, "i'm eilis, by the way. eilis rhodes."
🦢 ﹕ ʚɞ “ ah , ” vivienne murmured , setting the basket of green apples onto the marble countertop carefully. the fruit rolled softly against one another , glossy beneath the warm kitchen light. “ i’m sure he did. ” there’s the faintest hint of a snicker beneath her breath , subtle enough to almost pass unnoticed. she turns then , one brow lifting as her gaze settles on them lingering near the doorway. “ well ? ” vivienne asks lightly. “ are you planning to come in , or do you intend to haunt my front step all evening ? ” the remark is polished enough to sound teasing , though there’s an unmistakable edge beneath it.
still , she steps closer , and something in her expression softens. “ i’m only making apple pie , ” she says , smoothing her hands against the front of her blouse. “ my children have always loved it. ” the words carry a strange weight to them , touched with something almost wistful before it disappears again beneath composure. then comes the pause. “ and your name is … ? ” vivienne asks , though it’s clear she likely already knows. “ rumor has it we may be family soon. ” her eyes sweep over them once , elegant and evaluating all at once. “ i do prefer attaching a proper name to the speculation. ”
it's a lot, to be face to face with someone you know plenty about but also... well, practically nothing. she's heard a lot by way of beau, and then by amara as the tumultuous relationship settled in between them, and so being invited into vivenne langford's home without her sister or beau as a buffer was a bit more than she'd expected would happen at all. "ah, i would love to," she says, quickly, trying to recover her composure. putting on what her siblings call the journalist face that seems to rear it's head whenever she gets into the zone during an interview. it's a bit of armor, against what she's sure will be a hostile environment, somehow.
she smiles, the idea of her making apple pie when eilis has made her out to be some kind of villain secondhand is kind of laughable. it's — ridiculous, and she's proud of her journalist face for holding up in that exact moment, "eilis rhodes, it's — i have heard a lot about you, from amara and beau. it's nice to finally meet you, too." she smiles fondly at the thought that they might be engaged soon. she doesn't want to reveal anything — she's been sworn to secrecy in some respects, but... well, it's nice to think about, isn't it? once, eilis hadn't had any family — and now hers can't seem to stop growing, "do you have your own recipe? for the pie. i covered a ton of them on my show in the early spring, but i haven't seen green apples used all that often."
" y'know, i learned this flambé technique from a guy in italy ... " voice drowns out into the sea of many conversations in dining area, a break from swarm-like kitchen to check on his regulars and new faces. it scratches an itch; to both get away from hot stoves and sizzling pans to earn a bit of praise that blankets an ego waiting to be fed itself, little pieces of pride in every plate sent out.
green eyes momentarily look away to spot a familiar face at door, a dash of what looks like surprise sprinkling over his expression. so, she does take breaks from work. " nice seein' you. same time next week ? " he bids goodbye as fingertips tap at guest's table before ambling to hostess table, hand jamming themselves into apron pockets, as per usual. " i see you took my offer, " he says, pointing with his nose toward crumpled post-it note he'd scribbled on a week or two prior. a glance toward hostess, face scrambled by confusion while they search reservation list, earning a furrow of chef's brow. " what you lookin' all confused for ? i'll take care of it. " a beckon with his shoulder to eilis, boots heavy against hardwood floors as he leads her in. " you got a preference on where you wanna be sittin' ? usually, i say best seat in the house is the bar, but, we got a full house t'night. college grad party. "
eilis almost rolls her eyes. the easy confidence of him is something else — who would she be if she turned down a good meal? these days, it seemed to be all she could do. she's sure that her appearance in town without her fiancé in tow will also raise some eyebrows, but... well, she doesn't care at the moment, she thinks, "oh, why wouldn't i? it's a friday night, and i do get the weekends off, usually." that's only kind-of a lie, she often works through the weekends on stories or possible features, but... nobody needs to know that. "no worries, i can sit wherever. it really doesn't bother me at all. just — probably not right next to everyone's nana. they always want pictures with the tv lady, you know?" she's had plenty of run-ins with those type of old people, she didn't want to have a million more, especially when she wanted to get some relaxation and thinking done tonight, during her dinner, "i know it's probably not normal, but would you like to join me? in the dinner? i'm paying, and you're not allowed to comp anything."
──── " when you put it like that it makes it sound like you've got the gas station roller schedule saved on your phone , " teases , though she certainly wasn't one to judge , would need both hands to count how many restaurant apps she'd had the notifications on for . it's stories like these that make aria grateful she'd never chosen to go into broadcast ⸺ the long nights , the early mornings , the necessity to always be on in a way that made it hard to relax even when you had the time to . " i don't know how you do it , seriously , " but at least eilis was at the part in her career where she'd gotten the more interesting assignments ⸺ couldn't imagine doing all that just to report on the rush hour traffic . " do you ever think about moving to something a little more casual ? like less of the news and more like a talk show ? you're a good interviewer so maybe they'd loosen the reigns on you a little bit . . . unless you've somehow come to love waking up at three in the morning every weekday , " though anyone would find that hard to believe .
eilis pauses to consider, "if that was something that existed, i would totally have it saved on my phone. like — a way to get the tornados at optimal temperature? that would be 7-11 innovation." she's only partially joking. if that existed, she would definitely have it on her phone and would use it way more than half the social media apps on there. she shrugs that off a bit, though, "i fear i do love it. the waking up, being the face of the show. i'll probably stick around until i've got too many wrinkles for them to keep me onscreen. and even then, i'd try to pull a substance about it." that movie had felt horrifically autobiographical, like something that could come to be in the future very easily. she would take the same chances, but is convinced that she wouldn't break those rules. she's not known for being the most self aware, though, "but i wouldn't say no, to a talk show. i'm just not sure they'd have the right audience for it."
⎯⎯ “ well none of them are more influential to me , so . . . “ she adds , as if her biased opinion has any real weight in the matter . at least wanted eilis to know that she was always a winner in her heart , though knows better not to say something so cheesy out loud . “ ugh , yes , you look so pretty in red ⸺ or maybe we could try green too ? you know , just to broaden the horizons , “ always found that looking for something so specific often lead to an impossibly finite amount of choices to choose from , any shopper’s worst nightmare . eyes light up at the mention of something white , the wedding , went so rarely mentioned that sometimes her stomach would knot at the thought of her calling it off , wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone , especially not her sister . “ we can go to the square and hit all those little wedding dress boutiques , “ chipper tone in her voice makes it obvious that something inside of her has been unleashed , always hard to contain herself when it came to weddings and all they entailed ⸺ it was her job , after all . “ hey , speaking of your wedding . . . did you want me to help with anything ? i know you guys don’t have a date yet but i can maybe call around some venues and see what’s available for when you do want to start looking , “ arm is hooked between her sister’s as she begins to walk , leading back to the dressing room so eilis could grab her things . “ or maybe . . . a bachelorette trip ? come on . . . pleeaseee ? “ asks , head turns to eilis’ direction , pleading eyes in full effect .
she shrugs, about the whole thing. it's isn't that eilis doesn't believe in herself — she does, in this one specific area, but she doesn't ever think she's at the peak. the absolute best has to be working nationally, and she turned that all down for the love of this small town. was happy to do it, even though sometimes she feels that pang of regret when she sees the girls on good morning america. it was the right decision, but it left her with massive what if's in the long run, "red and green. what, you got christmas in july on your mind?" she jokes. and then it's wedding planning. it's funny, the same thing that fills her with dread — her own wedding and it's eventualities — makes her so joyful when the shoe is on someone else's foot. specifically, her beloved sister's. there was an impending engagement there that eilis was more than excited to be able to throw herself into head-first. "dear god, i haven't even thought about it. we keep saying we're going to get things together and then... not doing it, because we're both so busy. i always pictured a winter wedding, though. i think a sleeved gown would be good on me?" great, that's a good way to throw her sister off the scent of a weird vibe in that relationship, "you're going to be the maid of honor so, i think the trip is really up to you and i? wehere should we go?"
sophia sips from her stanley— water flavored with strawberry lemonade liquid iv before she speaks again. " the light ? " question leaves their mouth as if surprised and turns back toward where the camera is pointed. her brain is more analytical than creative, but she supposes she could see what he's talking about. " huh ... " head tilts. " i think i see what you mean. i, uh ... i'm not much of the artistic type, but i see the vision. "
he nods, in agreement — yes, the light, "yeah, it's — probably only like that for about twenty minutes a day, you know. golden hour, but shorter here, because we're in a weird spot with the clouds." he waves up toward the clouds, allowing himself to smile a bit, "it's good that you do. means you'd probably be pretty good at this — still life, i mean. you don't have to get too artsy with it."
callum doesn’t have the same tact as his friends and chuckles freely . the sound gathers the attention of a table next to them that apparently had been enjoying the presentation more than him , he’s thoughtful enough to apologize , though it’s anything but genuine . “ i’m afraid do ask about the worst you’ve dealt with . ” nicky is a strong man than him , certainly . “ i think this will be a one and done for me . "
he thinks, for a second, back to things he'd seen in LA when he was on a shoot, "has to be those weirdo influencers walking around with their phones, ruining all the exterior shots. it was set in the seventies, i had to ask multiple people to take their airpods out." cinematography, as an art form, was something nicky thought might be slowly dying out because of technology growing. he's just elderly, though, and his colleagues love to remind him of that, "no worries, though. shit happens, at least you didn't decide to yell at me for being upset. i've gotten that before, too."
“ unfortunately people are usually more wrapped up in their own bubble. or watching tiktok videos on their phone, ” scarlett offers, tone sympathetic as she takes her own photos from her phone. nothing as beautiful that will come from a camera like his, but will serve their purpose as reference pictures when scarlett dabbles with more color in her paintings. what better than the mix of golds and pinks of the current sunset ?? “ do you want me to stand over there a block off the path ?? that might keep anyone else from walking through for the next few minutes so you can get your shot. ”
he hums in agreement, shaking his head quickly and waving it off, "the tiktoks, ugh. don't get me started on them." he has a lot of big opinions there, and on vertical videos as a whole. nicky's an annoying traditionalist when it comes to shot composition and — phones just don't do it. the amount of time he's spent setting up family photos while giselle rolled her eyes was probably a bit ridiculous. "would you mind? i'll... figure some way out to repay you for the effort. it won't take more than ten minutes, i think. or i'll lose the light."
𝞋𝞎 ˖ ⊹ gigi steps forward , pressing a firm kiss to inara’s cheek that earns a burst of giggles from the little girl before she curls shyly into nicky’s neck. the sight softens something in her instantly , quietly. his comment catches her off guard for a moment. normally , she would deflect it , pick it apart , refuse to let it settle anywhere too deep. but this time she doesn’t. maybe because some part of her likes hearing it more than she should. “ you’re more than just that , ” gigi says after a moment , her voice gentling in a way reserved almost exclusively for him. there’s no sharpness in it now , no teasing edge. “ you’re superdad. ” a small smile tugs at her lips as her gaze flickers toward inara. “ and you make genuinely impressive animal-shaped pancakes. which , apparently , is a very serious qualification around here. ”
he laughs, almost immediately. it's funny, to think that giselle doesn't love the title of main breadwinner — the woman who obviously wears the pants in this family. it's never really bothered nicky, especially when they entered in this agreement so they could both chase their passions. her passions just... well, they got her ridiculous fees and a giant bank account. and nicky's got his name engraved on an oscar, once, and a few golden globes. it's all relative, but it was something that worked for them, almost perfectly, "you're only with me for my pancake skills, now i have the proof." his smile at inara leaning into his neck is brighter than anything else, and he watches as giselle's face lights up, too.
yeah, this was pretty much perfect, huh? it's exactly why nicky doesn't want to ruin it, doesn't want to drag them into pits of despair that he might no longer be around sometime int he near future. he'd rather give them more good times before that shoe has to drop. he hums, and changes the subject entirely, "you know, speaking of pancakes — we could get a funnel cake. they're basically cousins, right?"
aurora had the day off from the hospital and well, it had been super nice out and for once - she wanted to take advantage of it. finding herself at the nature preserve, she was just about to finish up the first mile of her run when she was rudely interrupted by nicky. stopping in her tracks, she huffed in annoyance. "and there's only so much time for me to beat my personal record for this run, yet you're too concerned with your photography project," she joked. "is it really that important, dude?"
well. that wasn't really meant for her, actually. in fact, she was a bit to the left of the frame, yet he throws his hands up in mock-annoyance, anyways, now that his whole thing has been questioned, "you weren't even in the frame, but yeah — it is kind of that important. i spent like twenty minutes setting up, which... you're a quicker runner than that, so that's less time than your mile took, right?"
*˖➴ “ hm. i try not to make assumptions about others’ capacity for perception. ” her own hypervigilance had worn her thin; she could, in some aspect, empathize with those challenged by spatial awareness. after all, despite her best efforts, she would still trip over her own feet. victim to a body so often in contention with its mind. “ i think that people are here to enjoy the reserve, nicky. ” gosh, that was charitable. “ how were they to know their obligation lay instead with a master at his craft? ” ah, more typically biting, though inexpressive. “ … we could come back? would that be very terrible? ” pearl spared no affection for the outdoors, and so her words poorly concealed an obvious truth— she did not want to be at home, not right now. not where her husband might be.
nicky groans, making a face at pearl's words. trust in her to always be the one who wanted to be realistic and not so reactionary, when it came to his complaints, "ugh, don't excuse it. it's a huge preserve, no reason to go stomping through every pile of sticks that happens to be in front of my camera lens, then." he pauses, for a few seconds, and considers. it's not as if he can't come back tomorrow, it's — his right. he has appointments in the morning and this would be a great excuse to run off for them, right? let him snap a few half-assed shots while he breaks this down, and then he's off scot-free tomorrow, "fine. should we get drinks, then, instead? i forgot you're not the biggest nature-enjoyer."