SPECIAL AGENT MATILDA LEVEY.

a part of charmingrp

[leveys]

Do you feel there's blood on your hands after the meeting?

words don’t come. the air has struggled to flow in and out of her lungs, lately. smoke does — constantly, empty packs of cigarettes piling up beside her. the wounds she’s suffered weren’t major, weren’t anywhere near what she believes she deserved — she thought they would come. she’d warned the bureau that this would happen, she thought they would handle it. nobody showed up. right until the last second, while the shots were still being fired, she’d expected a battering ram to push down the doors, agents bursting in, keeping people safe. they’d been anything but safe. and she — despite her efforts, she was on the assaulting team. hands shake, barely able to keep her cigarette in place. she wonders how she’s gonna look in her daughter’s eyes and say i tried. she thinks of arthur watching the news and knowing she’d be in there. she hasn’t called them yet, either of them — she fears her voice might just break once she does, that the words will cut her in two. “yeah”. her eyes stay on the ground, watching cinders fall from her cigarette, finding a pleasurable comfort in the way they dissolve. if she could dissolve, too, perhaps this would be easier. rubbing her face with one hand, matt lets out a sigh. “what do you want me to say? i’m fucking drippin’ with it. i tried to stop it”. a bitter smile, a warrior’s defeat. “it wasn’t enough”.

[saintfreda]

HONESTY HOUR! FREDDIE / KARA / MATT.

[leveys]

timothy —

it was too early to be awake. normally he would wake up early back home in seattle, but in charming, he got used to be someone different and his sleeping pattern changed drastically. he would only wake up early if there was an early run for the MC or if he had an early meeting with one of his superiors that he had to be awake for. for sawyer, meeting matty early was like meeting with a superior. he wanted to treat her with respect because she was so much more experienced than him in the field and felt like he could learn from her. they have been speaking for a while now about charming. ever since they were told a rival mc was coming to charming. he told her about the life of charming and those involved with the devil disciples or the wicked wolves. he worried if he would get to meet her. finally the day has come and with a crappy cup of coffee in his hand, sawyer opens the door and smiles at her. “come on in.” he says stepping aside. “oh don’t worry about it. i got my own. it’s the crappy hotel coffee, but with a lot of cream, it tastes really good.” he laughs lightly and takes a drink of his coffee. “its good to finally see you in person.” he moves into the hotel room and sits on the couch. “have a sit if you like.”

her gaze was wary as she stepped into the room, caution dominating each movement from her — not intimidated, but observant of her surroundings and her own demeanor. though she was in the presence of someone she could be honest with (and what a relief, to be able to be matilda again, even just for a second, even if the biker had to come out again the second she left this room), special agent levey would not let her guard down. not that her body would let her, anyway — sleep had been eluding her since their arrival in charming, she’d barely even been able to eat. she stood now, arms crossed, uneasy though this should’ve been, by far, the easiest part of her charming field trip. a nod was given as a response to his words, a polite smirk attempted but barely even made its way to her eyes. “likewise”, she replied instead, cautious. the plan they’d voted for roamed her mind in the form of gory images she would have gladly forgotten. she couldn’t, and the lingered instead, asking to be addressed. speaking of the plan, now, could be a danger — especially when the bureau was involved, and secrecy was vital. despite her instincts, matt kept herself on the side of caution. “what’s the mood around town?”, she asked instead, her voice never too loud as to avoid unwanted listeners. “things have been oddly… calm, ever since we got here”.

[leveys]

lettie​ —

ever vigilant, lettie was quick to catch the candy bar, eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion, before she ripped open the wrapper and bit into it, “thanks,” she murmured, words muffled due to the food that was currently in her mouth, something that mother dearest had scolded her for ever since she was a child. since santi’s death, the thoughts hadn’t rested in her mind; constantly raging, begging for her to find answers, so that maybe they would go to sleep. scoffing at the other woman’s words, “why the fuck does something always have to be up with me, it’s my face,” quick to defend herself, she peeled back another part of the wrapper, shrugging her shoulders, “not too keen on the shit that’s gonna go down, y’know …” lettie admitted. sure, she was all for chaos and havoc, but not when the people creating that havoc had probably screwed her over, ripping away from her the one person she truly cared for without question, she wasn’t as on board.

ah, there it was. the one thing she didn’t want to think about. she’d delivered the plan to her superiors the second it was voted by the members — atrocious, horrifying, but she’d been forced to play along with it. she held on to the belief that they’d take care of it before things had to actually go down. she’d given them the date, time, place, detailed descriptions of the operation and statistics — weapons, targets, weak points. the belief that they’d take care of it was currently the linus’ blanket that helped her sleep at night: part of her thought it was too little, still, and the more time passed the more she could swear she smelled blood in the air. but all of this couldn’t filter: to lettie, to anyone’s gaze, she had to stay stone-hard, rejecting all pretenses of guilt. her gaze turning to the horizon as she leaned back against the side of the car, matt let her words fall in silence for a while, as the hard, familiar weight of terror settled in her stomach. “we voted”. matt shrugged, hands buried in the pockets of her jeans. i don’t like it either, she wanted to say, this shit makes me nauseous. she couldn’t, so she had to settle for a smoke instead. the ‘NO SMOKING’ sign vivid above the gas pump, and the thought that, if this gas station blew up right now, perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing happening this week. matt dug a cigarette out, lit it up and took her time with the first, slow drag. “it’s a shit plan, i’ll tell you that”. her comment came more on the side of pragmatism than ethical concerns, and she turned a side glance to lettie, investigating her features, finding in them a doubt that reassured her some — perhaps  there was hope, after all. “we’re outnumbered, likely outgunned. it’s a shit fucking plan”.

[leveys]

santiago —

SHE LOOKED LIKE SHE WAS JUDGING HIM; Santiago could only assume she was doing so, as she studied him for a moment. He reached his hand up again to very gingerly wipe away the very last remnants of the blood, pausing in exactly that position, hand to his face as the woman used a word that he wouldn’t have thought of himself to describe how he felt in this situation. “…huh. Right.” Was his initial response, his lips quirking up into a small smirk as he lowered his hand.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He grunted in response to her next question, reaching out and eagerly taking the lighter nonetheless. As soon as he’d lit his own cigarette, Santi passed the light back, savouring the first drag as he watched her make herself comfortable against the wall he’d previously been leaning against, standing a safe distance away from her; safe, in the way that she wouldn’t be able to hit him with a punch from where she was standing. A few moments into the silence told him that yeah, she really would like to know who Santi had pissed off that night. “Just some guy who thought I’d look better with a bruised nose. And… one of his buddies who thought he’d get a swing in, too.” He balanced the cigarette between his lips again, taking another slow drag before letting his eyes subtly glance her over. “But I lived to smoke another day.”

the second he began talking, matt realized she was tired. not of him, no: she’d barely just met him and, though she’d note down his character as eccentric at best, the conversation was pleasant, perhaps even fun. she was just tired of having to enjoy it as dylan. she was tired of having to filter her responses, tired of always calculating the distance between her two personas and averaging a reaction that would be faithful to her character, but still believable for her cover. still, it seemed the odd back and forth amused both her selves — she found herself chuckling at his words, taking yet another drag from her cigarette as she buried the lighter back in her pocket.

he had a callous way about him, this guy, but somehow she didn’t mind. perhaps they talked the same language: people hardened by the past, using sarcasm as a coping mechanism. matt held a dedicate glance over him, a pout on her lips as she pondered over his words. then, with a smirk, returned to stare at the horizon. “they weren’t wrong”, she declared, eyebrows perked up in mock exaggeration.

[leveys]

mona —

it was something close to a ritual, to spend the hours of twilight accompanied by matilda. the story they’d fabricated for the bandits would have everyone believing the two had knows each other for years, most of mona’s life even. but the reality was that they developed their bond as mona graduated from the academy, a fact mona herself couldn’t quite believe. since making it into the undercover task force in utah, mona never expected her life to be turned on it’s head. not only was fitting into the bandits a much easier task than she anticipated, she developed bonds with the members too. there have been plenty of nights where mona lays in bed wide awake, wondering what it would be like to be a prospect without the fbi breathing down her neck. but those trains of thought always end with then i’d disappoint her, i can’t stomach it.

she knows of arlo. knows he’s slipping just like she is. every time his name leaves matt’s lips mona is reminded that matt is already close to losing one agent and mona desperately doesn’t want to add to that list. nor does she want to throw the bandits under the bus. mona carefully picks a cigarette from the carton and catches it between her lips and silently picking matt’s lighter from her fingers once her cigarette is lit to light her own. the older agent’s words are laced with knowing, and mona can feel guilt bubbling over in her chest. “but?” she knew there was one coming but she can sense matt’s hesitation to voice it. 

if she keeps smoking like this, matt thinks, she’s not gonna make it out of charming alive. just a few weeks ago, over the phone, she’d promised cass she’d stop ‘smoking the cigarettes’ (she’d watched a documentary at school, some firefighter bear telling the kids how bad smoke is. matt felt bad hearing that: it should be her, filling her daughter’s head with stories to keep her from the dark path, not a fucking cartoon bear). that promise, like many others, has been not forgotten but postponed: seems her life’s been on pause for a while, now, and the burning ring consuming a cigarette is the only way she still can tell the time. that, and the encounters with mona — she won’t tell her this, but they’re far too important to her now. she doesn’t come here just to rendezvous, make a recap of their working day. she comes here ‘cause it’s safe, and with mona she can remember about herself, the true self, the one that longs for arizona and thinks this shouldn’t be taking so fucking long. at times it feels mona’s the only contact she still has with matilda levey.

a smirk, then a scoff: there’s no hiding words from her. “but —”, matt repeats, and the following drag is inhaled slowly, savoring the pinching in her throat. there’s no easy way to go about this, and she doesn’t want this to be a repeat of her last meeting with arlo. toying with pebbles on the ground with the tip of her foot, she kicks one away and watches it tumble with the others, trying to think of a formula that won’t startle the girl. when she does, her eyes are fixed on the pebble: her voice calm, collected. “but, sometimes i’m afraid you might be getting too close. there’s a line between who we really are and who we need to pretend to be —”, then she turns to face her, a glance of honest concern as she looks over her. “— you know how to not walk it, right?”

[leveys]

aurora —

Aurora nodded her head as the older woman thanked her, watching as she took her phone to call up a taxi. While the town was small, it wasn’t always convenient to use your own two feet to get you from point A to point B. It was honestly worth spending the few dollars to have someone else drive you. She was thankful for her own bike and even the mom van that didn’t like to start up most days. 

Her customer seemed friendly enough, but she was curious about her. It wasn’t everyday that there were new faces that popped up. In such a small community, most people knew one another by name. Newcomers always were….interesting to say the least. She came back in a few moments later and her phone was brought back. Eyes scanned all the goods that were still on display. “Oh no, you can still get some. What kind would you like?” she asked as she went to put on some gloves to grab them. “So, whatcha doing in such a small town like this?”

truth be told, she wasn’t half as interested in the pastries as she was in the girl. she didn’t look like the type to join a club like the devil’s disciples, and somehow that made her curious. (mona didn’t look like the type to join the bandits either, yet there she was, far deeper into it than matt truly was: perhaps her interest lay in a sort of anthropological research, too, wanting what was it about these clubs that roped young, apparently harmless girls in, and if it could keep them safe). matt shrugged, offering a polite smile. “your pick. they all look great anyway”.

then the question — the potential to slip up was great, but she’d played this game before. she could have, of course, come clean right away and presented herself as a potential hostile presence; but there would be time for that at the welcome party — this seemed like too lovely a night to waste it on unpleasant greetings. “just in town to meet a couple friends”. matt shrugged, a pleasant smile still on her lips: “quite the lovely little town you have here...”.

[whatelsecanwedonow]

SICARIO (2015) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[sxntixgos-deactivated20200714]

location: a few streets away from the welcome party at 2am

with: @leveys

status: closed starter

HE WAS PROBABLY ASKING FOR THE FIRST PUNCH. Maybe not the second, or the third, but probably the first. Santiago leaned with his back against the rough brick wall of the building behind him, panting softly as he lifted a hand to assess the damage to his nose. Not broken, but it sure as hell hurt. Fred would kick his ass if he showed up to her in this state, and she’d kick him even harder when he told her he’d talked his way into a Bandit’s fist.

Santi’s next instinct was to reach into his pocket for a cigarette, and no sooner had he done that did he realise that his lighter was nowhere to be found on his person. “Mierda!” He cursed under his breath, nearly just tossing his unsmoked cigarette to the ground and stomping on it - not that he’d achieve anything by doing so - before looking up and seeing a nearby figure who he hoped had some kind of a lighter on them. “S’cuse me, I, uh... ignore the bloody nose, I just really could do with a light right now.” Santi motioned slightly with the hand holding his cigarette.

[leveys]

santiago —

location: a few streets away from the welcome party at 2am

with: @leveys

status: closed starter

HE WAS PROBABLY ASKING FOR THE FIRST PUNCH. Maybe not the second, or the third, but probably the first. Santiago leaned with his back against the rough brick wall of the building behind him, panting softly as he lifted a hand to assess the damage to his nose. Not broken, but it sure as hell hurt. Fred would kick his ass if he showed up to her in this state, and she’d kick him even harder when he told her he’d talked his way into a Bandit’s fist.

Santi’s next instinct was to reach into his pocket for a cigarette, and no sooner had he done that did he realise that his lighter was nowhere to be found on his person. “Mierda!” He cursed under his breath, nearly just tossing his unsmoked cigarette to the ground and stomping on it - not that he’d achieve anything by doing so - before looking up and seeing a nearby figure who he hoped had some kind of a lighter on them. “S’cuse me, I, uh… ignore the bloody nose, I just really could do with a light right now.” Santi motioned slightly with the hand holding his cigarette.

sadly, she had not been a witness to the fight. she’d heard it, some — just echoes slightly louder than the usual ruckus. she half regretted it now, looking onto the bruised man’s face and wondering just who he’d managed to piss off. she could’ve wagered on the person behind the punch, though she doubted it would’ve made much of a difference: with how on edge everyone was, it was a miracle they’d all been behaving so diligently. still, her smirk was amused as she looked over the man — there had always been something so terribly fascinating about idiots getting punched, for her. “pretty.” was her nonchalant, off-handed comment.

matt dug her hands into the pockets of her denim jacket and pulled them out — a lighter in one hand, a pack of smokes in the other. “who’d you piss off?”, she offered the lighter with an eyebrow perked, just a little more amusement on her face than the quiet wariness the mc had imposed on her. once the lighter was returned, matt lit a cigarette for herself, too, and took a moment to examine her newfound company. never seen him before, so he had to be a devil. disappointing, but not surprising. matt took a drag, leaning with her back against the wall: arms crossed, ears ready and eager to listen.

[leveys]

mariel —

Mariel tries to reason with others, especially when in times where she had to look at the bigger picture and not get so confined to what was right in front of her. However, the woman before her? She doesn’t owe her jack shit. Not now out of all fucking days. “Right…Doing a service for this country always comes first doesn’t it? Like a true American hero, agent Levey.” The smirk on the other woman’s face made the attorney want to deck her straight on. However, was it really worth assaulting one of the highest for of law enforcement in America? Not so much. Plus, her baby…She had to remember about her baby. 

What the fuck was she even hearing? The way she kept going back and forth from one point to another. They had a past, she acknowledges that, in fact, she is well aware of both their parts in the justice system. However, she thought it was clear—just like the system—their line of work was never fair to begin with. It was broken and unjust. Justice is only served at the convenience of others. Money and power was all that mattered. 

“How long?” she asked. “How fucking deep are you into this shit?”  She narrowed her gaze as her suspicions grew. “You’re intelligent, you know me well enough that I wouldn’t give you the option of dragging your flat ass over here. Fuck your benefit of the doubt, you should have taken a hint.” Mariel shook her head as she approached her and calmly stated, “Don’t explain to me shit that I already know Matt. This is a two way street, but if one isn’t giving—why bother asking?” If there’s a pet peeve that Mariel has, it would be having to repeat herself. “I said, what I said…” She speculated further, she knew she might hit a nerve with this assumption, but she wasn’t the type to hold back. “The only reason why you’re here…Is because you’re fucked aren’t you? Who has you by the balls huh? Unfazed or Blazing Bandits? Did you get too close? Or do you think they’re onto you?” 

there — right there was the point where matt hardened, each muscle clenching in preparation for a blow that undoubtedly would come and hit far harder, far deeper than she had already. oh, she was good — saw the chinks in her armor and went straight towards them, not unlike a battering ram. unrelenting, matt had to give it to her: she was fucking spectacular at her job. she watched, silently, as the cinders burning her cigarette somehow mirrored her own burning (seething, rather, letting her anger fester silently because god forbid it came out in any formal manner that could be controlled). perhaps this trip wouldn’t be so fruitless — if anything, it’d warn her superiors against ever trusting the advice of mariel buenaventura again.

“then ask”, matt’s voice was calm, controlled: almost as if mariel’s words had barely touched her, barely drawn a reaction more than a vague disappointment in passing. matt took another drag, then let what was left of her cigarette fall to the floor. her movements were a dange, part of her own script to play — drop the butt, step on it, move forward. there had to be some symbolism hidden in stomping over things that were still burning. her next words came with a sharp gaze pointed right at mariel’s eyes: she could be unrelenting, too.

“if what you need is a gesture of good faith, then ask what you want. whatever you want, honey, you got it”. her smile was bitter, it betrayed her anger. “you got a whole bureau at your disposal, then fucking ask”. she’d never been great at poker, but she was good at calling bluffs — and she suspected mariel was just as good at bluffing.

[leveys]

aurora —

Aurora didn’t know who this person was, it didn’t take long to realize they had to be a newcomer. She had lived in Charming her entire life and knew nearly all the faces that occupied the small town. The devil began to wonder who would find themselves at a place like this, it had to be a good enough reason. She was looking for directions to the Highway motel? Oh yes, she was defiantly new to town.

“That’s gonna be on the other side of town. It’ll be one hell of a walk, especially this time of night. I suggest you call up a cab, it won’t cost ya too much,” she replied to the stranger, before taking her phone from her apron pocket and offering it to her. “Feel free to use mine to call one up. There’s a gas station up the road that sells chargers by the way.”

matt’s eyes were cautious, wary of the girl and her surroundings. her name hadn’t prominently popped up among the files she’d studied before coming to charming, though there had been a homicide case relating to her family that she’d noted down as being a point of interest in the case. regardless, the girl seemed friendly enough: if not for the sake of her charming-based fact-finding mission, it was at least nice to interact with someone that wasn’t secretly foaming at the mouth, looking for a reason to fuck someone up.

“thanks. i appreciate it”. matt accepted the phone with a grateful smile, then stepped outside to call not a cab but one of the bandits, asking them to wait outside in no less than ten minutes — give her enough time to chat her up a litt,e perhaps gain some fruitful insights. “thank you”, matt returned the phone with a relieved sigh, then pointed at a handful of pastries still on display. “is it too late to grab a couple of those to go? i haven’t had any dinner and they just look so good ——”

[leveys]

leo —

Turning his head in time to watch the little show put on by the two, well, really mostly by her, he didn’t keep his gaze there for very long. It didn’t matter what establishment they were at, there was always gonna be idiots with an ego too big for their own good that believed they could get bold. Most of the time Leo would find some amusement in it but he wasn’t enjoying much with the competition coming around and invading their stomping grounds. It was all meant to work towards something, but he wouldn’t ever trust a single one and unlike some of the others, putting on a facade to seem as if he was enjoying himself would be wasted energy on his part. “Should learn to lower your expectations.” He commented in return. With a twitch of his shoulders he brought his drink to his lips. She was a bandit, that much he knew. He had practically memorized all their faces by now. Hers wasn’t a hard one to remember either. A pretty face with a tight body. He was also sure there was more to her than that but hadn’t yet bothered trying to pick anything up from her. 

a warm welcome was the least of her expectations — she’d gotten the gist of it by now: they were not guests, but intruders. they’d be pleasantly handled for as long as it was convenient to both resident parties. what happened next, she could guess but not know — for now, all her fact-checking, intel-gathering, deal-striking business was accompanied with the occasional chit chat and shared drinks with the locals, and she was fine with that. some of them, at least, weren’t half bad to look at — though perhaps just a tad bit more callous than she was used to. his comment was met with a smirk, a half-exaggerated expression of agreement, eyebrows perked in a somewhat cartoonish way. “why, you’re right, i should really be expecting less”. a side glance thrown at the present company, and his features connected her to one of the many pictures in the files she’d been handed before moving to charming. wicked wolves — not her area of focus (arlo had been given that and yeah, she was still fucking pissed about that), but an interesting case to look into nonetheless. she had no delusions to be in the presence of someone dangerous, though that barely made him any different from the rest of the residents she’d met — still figured it might be a chance for a useful connection, at best, a half decent pastime at worst. “at least you don’t fuck around with pleasantries and all that shit. gotta say, that’s kinda refreshing”.

[leveys]

liam —

“was that a joke, miss harker?” the advisor drawled as he leaned on the bar beside her. mischief glinted in his eyes as a tell-tale smirk played at his lips. when he spoke, the ‘miss’ came out more like ‘mizz’. the older man liked dylan - unlike the other members, she generally didn’t give him a headache. The younger ones especially seemed to need an eye on them and at least he knew that she could manage well enough on her own. he probably didn’t need to be all that worried that she’d start some shit with the devils. “i’m certainly glad to see you enjoyin’ yourself. it is a party, after all. and we’ll have peace soon enough.” let any who overheard them think he believed what he said. he was convincing enough, and it wouldn’t be bad for any who might be bothered to listen to them hear bandits discuss it of their own volition. “i will say this, though. i will be most relieved to get back to my own bed when all is said and done.”

her laughter echoed through the neck of the bottle she was sipping from, and as she pulled it away from her lips it was raised slightly in a nod to his words. despite the clear limits of their respective predicaments, matt liked liam. ‘reasonable’ was a quality not many bandits held, and she’d enjoyed working alongside him. (this part, this was gonna hurt, sooner or later. she knew this. she’d never been good at deluding herself, and she wouldn’t start now: she was fully aware of the near-sightedness of her affection for many of the bandits, but the thing is: she was willing to make that sacrifice. that either made them a good agent, or a borderline sociopath. perhaps both). a side glance, half amused smirk thrown his way at his fake optimism almost drew a chuckle from her, quickly concealed with a shake of her head, adding on to the list of reasons why she’d love to be back in utah already. “sun’s unbearable ‘round here. don’t know how they get anything done without drying out”, her eyes followed the silhouettes of bandits and disciples mingling, each so distinctly recognizable even beyond her recognition of their faces. the devils moved boldly, wanting their height to be known, menacing in the double-edged, tricky manner of a host ready to slit their guests’ throats. and the bandits knew this — returning the same sort of fake pleasantries and yet keeping on the edge of aggression, nervous. there was a sudden sinking feeling in matt’s guts, a hint of worry making her glance at liam, once, as if she truly looked up to him for reassurance. perhaps she did. she took another sip. “think we’re gonna be out of here anytime soon?”

[sersi]

EMILY BLUNT as RITA VRATASKI in EDGE OF TOMORROW

[leveys]

arlo —

arlo didn’t know why he had expected anything other than the bone crushing truth from the other woman as they aired things out in the small closet he had been stuffed into. even with her cafe for him over the years, even with the soft smiles he had gotten from her at christmas parties and when they had been relaxing, when it came to the job, he was never shown favor, he was never babied. she had taught him to expect better and to be better and yet even a small part of him had still hoped that she would tell him what to do. that she would know where he was supposed to go with that, that she could have some magic method to turning his head off. maybe he had been avoiding her so badly though was because he knew this was what he was going to get. then her eyes switched to a look of disappointment and he racked his brain for a comment that would make her mad again. arlo could take a lot, he had learnt that with everything life had thrown at him, but he wasn’t sure he could take her disappointment. wasn’t sure he had the heart to stand here much longer if that look was going to stay on her face. he knew that she had already done more for him that she should. he was compromised, and not just a little, he hadn’t just pushed the line with his role, he’d taken a leap and fucking jump over it. he was life alteringly compromised yet he stood here when she had the power to make one call and he’d have had  his ass shipped home and no doubt reprimanded or fired. as of right now, there was nothing he had done that he couldn’t take back, there was no information that would have helped a bust he had helped back, nothing he had done that would mean he would land himself in hot water. everything he had done so far could be reversed, even falling in love with vivian. he could cut her off, he could make himself fall out of love with her or at the very least he could put enough distance between them that it wasn’t an issue. even with all the work he had put in, he could ask to be pulled and they would. they’d take him out and start again rather than risk losing one of their own. he just wasn’t sure if he wanted them too. he wasn’t sure that wearing that vest, FBI, branded on his chest was worth more than what he had found. “matty, what if i make the wrong one?” and he wasn’t sure which way he was talking about. what would hurt more? losing vivian and keeping his integrity, or staying with the unfazed and losing his pride? would it even be worth it, because if he was on the wrong side when that inevitable bust went down, it could end up all being for nothing anyway. “i don’t know how i’m supposed to stop loving her. how i’m supposed to stop caring. how do you do it? how are you not attatched to them matty?” 

she would’ve liked to have a solution for him. offer him a pre-packaged way out of this and somehow allow him to come out of this not unscathed but still himself — and salvage that part of him that loved so hopelessly, because as much as it was endangering him now, she knew that part was what made him a good agent. she, however, could not. in her lifelong quest for truth, matt had held onto her ideals with blind passion, and the love for her job (as difficult, as tricky, as humiliating as it got to be at times) had come first so often that it had taken over her marriage, too. she couldn’t wish for arlo to make the same mistakes, but she couldn’t understand why he’d even consider the option to not put the bureau first — she was tired, exhausted about this. it looked as though he’d made up his mind already, and not a word she’d say would be able to change the way he felt about the operation, about the gang, about the girl. sighing in exhaustion, matt took her seat on the bed, elbows resting against her knees and head hanging low, tired. when she spoke again, her eyes were sad: right into his, honest. “do you think i don’t have any feelings for them? do you think i don’t care?”. she’d grown far more attached than she’d have wanted. she’d grown closer to johnny than she’d ever let herself with anyone, and if in the beginning it had been an instinctive response, her responding to the name of the brother she’d lost, it had become a sort of fabricated loyalty she still struggled to put into the perspective of her role. she’d grown to like far too many of her club mates — at times she’d found herself looking out for them not just for the sake of the case, but because harm that would come to her would reflect on her, too. she could understand how easy it had been for arlo to set aside the reasoning for his presence in the unfazed and grow much closer than he should have with this girl. she got it — that wasn’t the point. the point was, he was willing to sacrifice everything they’d worked towards for her. “i care, arlo. i do. but i know there’s a lot more at stake here”. a sudden turn of her mood drew anger back in her features, raising her voice just a little bit higher. “tell me, what do you plan to do? leave the bureau, marry this girl, start a family? is that what you wanna do? because if so, i need to ask you —” in speaking she stood up again, eyes never once leaving his. “— why the fuck did you join the bureau in the first place? you either had a calling or you had an ideal, and if you fuck this up, arlo, i swear you’ll have proved you had neither: and that means you have no moral dignity, either.”

[leveys]

kaia —

The corners of her lips were turned up as she looked her over, the hesitation was warranted. If she was anyone else Kaia wouldn’t have said anything to her at all, but she was weak sometimes. It was a human reaction to look at someone when they were attractive. The men however didn’t understand not to touch when they weren’t invited. At least she had manners. “I wouldn’t look for too much of it anywhere else.” Kaia was nothing if not honest, “As you can imagine the boys are kind of… stand-offish.” Usually she was as well, she didn’t trust anyone of them. She didn’t trust this woman but she could be friendly when she wanted something. Even if it was just attention. “I’m just nicer than everyone else too. So lucky for you.”

matt was not oblivious to flirting. it might not have been an art she’d quite mastered (an almost lifelong committed relationship had barely left her with even just the chance of an encounter), but she could recognize when the air shifted and the language exchanged became just a tad bit more suggestive. it might have been harmless, a game mostly played for a character’s own inspiration rather than a genuine need for back and forth — still she could enjoy it, as cautiously as she enjoyed anything in charming. taking a sip from the water, matt kept her eyes on the woman, gauging whether her apparent pleasantness came from a natural disposition or a means to an end. matt smirked. “lucky indeed”, as she screwed the bottle cap back in place, she leaned her back against the wall and eyed the woman curiously. “i get it you must be one of the most notable charming residents, then, if they put you in charge of the welcome wagon...”

[leveys]

the air has been overloaded with tension the second they stepped into town. she wouldn’t expect anything less, yet it doesn’t make for the ideal setting — not for the delicate matters that are to be discussed, certainly not for the precarious situation she finds herself in. alcohol doesn’t help the cause much, but it sure can help take the edge off — the edge, and all this constant anxiety that keeps haunting her. rendezvous is not exactly the right place to not be anxious, but perhaps she hoped a good number of unfazed would be hanging at the headquarters of their charming counterpart. perhaps — she wouldn’t admit this to herself, she lacked the self-awareness to notice it — she was just hoping for a chance to keep a watchful eye on arlo. it wasn’t arlo she spotted, but one of his superiors. sitting at the bar, apparently minding her business (though she’d know better than to ever underestimate the woman’s awareness of her surroundings). her face is well known to the agent, her role a prominent one in the investigation her task force’s been leading now for the good part of six years; her interactions with the woman, however, have been scarce, regretfully so. couldn’t be otherwise, with them belonging to different sides — no matter which persona of hers you considered, if the fbi agent or the bandit. still: a part of her liked bian. the no-fucking-around attitude, a certain kind of wisdom… conversation with her, at least, seemed like a better way to spend the night than letting her panic slowly build up. “mind if i sit?” there’s three stools free at the counter, but she picks the one right next to bian, and signals the bartender for a beer. she looks at the woman as she sits, wary eyes examining her features. “this town isn’t offering many inputs for decent conversation”. 

closed for @biansinclair​