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A Mistake by Any Other Name {TAG; Mateo}

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Once they bid each other farewell, Mateo watched Sunny go before he turned only to stop and blink when Maz was suddenly there. He had thought that Maz was trying to avoid him, so the fact that he was handing him free stuff was surprising to say the least.

Judging by the expression on Maz’s face though, it seemed interacting with him was like pulling teeth. Mateo stared at him questionably for it, before he nodded and took the offered items.

“Thanks,” said Mateo. He stood there for a few moments, feeling as though he should say something else. “…I hope everyone likes the flowers.” Well. That wasn’t a very good attempt.

Maz sucked in a breath and waited for Matteo to drop some pointed remark - not that he expected him to, mind, just that he braced himself for the inevitable dismissal. Or the sarcasm. Or, hell, just Matteo’s dry deflection. Everything was over-dramatized in his mind; after all - a meet-cute turned malignant-collision. Not that it was a meet-cute, mind - God. He needed to get his shit together.

“..they look great,” said Maz, keeping his voice cool and steady. He could drop behind a mask of confidence, right? Matteo could play along. They could just - both of them pretend they were totally normal adults who weren’t awkward at all. That was the hope, anyway.

“You have good taste, and - really know your stuff. Which, obviously.” Shit. “I mean - Sunny’s already talking about hiring you for future venue decorations…if - that’s something you’d be interested in, of course…”

Mateo managed a faint smile. Something about Maz was off-putting in a socially awkward way, but not enough to find conversations with him unpleasant. Most conversations were like that with others when it came to Mateo, since he hardly lets anyone in. He was just guarded; it wasn’t that he particularly found people untrustworthy.

Maz seemed guarded himself, though, Mateo was unable to pinpoint why and perhaps never will. He wanted to hide from him at first after all, then decided to gather some courage to approach him. Even though Mateo didn’t show it, it wasn’t unappreciated.

“I’m always interested in receiving more business,” Mateo teased. “It helps pay the bills.”

A Mistake by Any Other Name {TAG; Mateo}

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Maz wanted to go down the drain with the rest of the discarded coffee the minute the pretty-boy florist strolled through the doors. Alright, he didn’t stroll. He walked with a purpose, doing his job, making his way downtown, the whole bit. That being said, he was…somehow worse; outside of his element. There was more sun in the wide-open windows of the establishment; more ways for the sun to find the angles of Mateo’s face and throw his features into more forgiving relief. He looked less like a lurker in the woods outside of his own shop - just a dude, a normal dude, much like Sunny, who had no idea what kind of things; what monsters, walked alongside them.

His green eyes darted back to the espresso machine and Maz swallowed sharply, fixing one of the handles that so obviously did not need fixing. He tried to no avail to become something subtler; a little less obvious, furrowing his brow and fidgeting with a couple of the levers made for pulling shots. Maybe if he appeared busy there’d be minimal backlash.

That is, until Sunny asked if Mateo wanted a drink on the house for the delivery - and Maz pinned his boss with a look so venomous it would’ve shamed a rattlesnake into early retirement.

Judging by the way Maz snapped his gaze away from him and instead focused on the machine, he was definitely not planning on meeting him again. Mateo supposed their final conversation was awkward, but he didn’t understand the extent of Maz’s embarrassment. Sure, Mateo didn’t know that Maz had been appreciative of his looks and had to spell it out for him–why was that different from what Maz had already said to him with the assumption that Mateo knew what he meant to begin with?

When Sunny asked if he wanted something to drink, Mateo glanced at Maz out of the corner of his eye and immediately focused onto Sunny again. The look on the young man’s face was murderous.

“Raincheck,” he answered. “I should be going.” He had plenty of time to stick around before his hour away from the shop was up, but he rarely does unless someone else at the venue he services was interested in his work. Taking a business card out of his apron pocket, he handed it to Sunny.

The card read:

Over the Moon Florist

Mateo Davis

415-356-9377

Maz could’ve kicked himself - Matteo wasn’t going to stay, probably because he was there. It seemed a waste to not at least give him something for the road - for the trouble it took to come out here. Running a hand through his hair and gripping absently at the curls, Maz ducked away briefly to whip something up.

Reemerging as Matteo was getting ready to depart, carrying a bag of fresh apple turnovers and a medium-sized vanilla latte [can’t go too overboard, the boy’s white and already over this scene], Maz waited until Sunny had stepped away with the card and thrust the offerings in Matteo’s general direction, holding his breath for a moment.

“On the house,” he managed through tightly-pursed lips, brow furrowing slightly. “Thanks for the speedy delivery.” He was trying. It might not have seemed like it, but Maz was definitely trying some form of. Normality.

Or at least, decency.

Once they bid each other farewell, Mateo watched Sunny go before he turned only to stop and blink when Maz was suddenly there. He had thought that Maz was trying to avoid him, so the fact that he was handing him free stuff was surprising to say the least.

Judging by the expression on Maz’s face though, it seemed interacting with him was like pulling teeth. Mateo stared at him questionably for it, before he nodded and took the offered items.

“Thanks,” said Mateo. He stood there for a few moments, feeling as though he should say something else. “...I hope everyone likes the flowers.” Well. That wasn’t a very good attempt.

#you forgot to follow that with ''and i love you for it''#also ''the boy's white'' line killed me

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

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Ren clenched his jaw as he watched the flow of cards. It did give him a rush when he won the last round, and a part of him couldn’t help but want to feel that again. Gambling was his drug, his addiction that he would constantly feed and never feel full enough.

He jerked away ever so slightly when Jin-Woo leaned in toward him. Ren stared at him, a perturbed expression on his face. “It’s definitely not the people I meet,” he deadpanned. His eyes narrowed then at the mention Jin made about sex. Breath hitching he straightened and asked, “How old are you?” The last thing he needed was a minor getting him in more trouble.

“Rude,” Jin smiled though, unbothered by the verbal jab while his eyes gleamed with amusement. Shrugging a shoulder he said, “I’m 18. Recently turned. Well a few months ago anyway. I have a highschool diploma and two jobs and everything if you need proof.” He fluttered his mascara coated lashes at Ren with a smile. “So it’s not the people. Then it’s the feeling right?”

He waved a hand as the dealer got the cards ready and began to deal them out. “The feeling of winning…of knowing your risk paid off in the end. But then I imagine losing is almost this crushing, terrible feeling.” He nodded, “I get that at least. I don’t win much at life in general so anything different from all consuming crushing weight of being a failure has to be nice.”

Ren wasn’t as devastated as he would have been if Jin were one year younger. However the guy wasn’t even old enough to legally drink. He wasn’t even sure if eighteen year olds could gamble. But what was he doing there anyway, offering three hundred dollars to an older guy? It didn’t make any sense to him.

“I know you’re not here to find out the boring details about why I gamble,” Ren snapped. He turned in Jin-Woo’s direction with a scowl. “Are you going to tell me or continue beating around the bush?”

With a slow suck of his teeth Jin ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and he smiled. “I want to help you. On my terms.” He turned more towards Ren to face him, arm draped on the seat, the other on the playing table. He glanced over as each card was slowly put down. “I’ll help you win in this. But you can only play when I say you can. And you have to trust me when I tell you to hold or make a big play. I can’t promise you will always win but I think my presence will help you to increase your odds.”

He tipped up his head, smirking, “Each risk you take even when you might feel like going to opposite direction helps me. And my boss. In a way you will play and you will work in this field for us. I looked into your record and I know you owe quite a bit. So let me help you pay that off. And in return. You play. For me.” He narrowed his eyes, “If you play without me you might lose and the debt you earn without me will not be included in this deal. Understand?”

Narrowing his eyes, Ren stared at Jin-Woo as he finally revealed his true motives to him. As he suspected, he didn’t like what Jin had to say. Ren couldn’t help but laugh and run his hand over his mouth as he leaned back. After a few moments he nodded to himself before he leaned back in. “I’m not going to be your gambling whore,” he hissed.

Ren promptly got off of the stool and completely ignored the money on the table as he shoved his hands in his pockets. He walked out of the venue and onto sidewalk with brisk steps.

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

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Jin smiled slowly, knowing that Ren was still rather stuck in his paranoia he looked to the cards. The dealer laid down the next one and he blinked, “…Twenty-one. BlackJack.” The bid was doubled and returned to Ren in the form of chips. With his smile still warm and pleased, Jin’s eyes flicked to Ren.

“Another round?”

Brows furrowing, Ren stared at the cards in disbelief. He watched as he received his chips and he glanced over at Jin. Of course, that was just a coincidence. It couldn’t be as Jin-Woo said–he would win any bet with the money Ren was given.

At this point it wasn’t about the money for Ren, he just wanted to prove the stranger wrong, to show him that he shouldn’t be walking around and making those kinds of promises to people.

“Again,” said Ren.

Jin nodded to the dealer who used the rewarded money and then another hundred dollars. Three Hundred in all on the line. He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he watched the dealer sweep up the cards and start shuffling them swiftly. He prepped his cheek into his palm and rested his elbow on the table. One leg still crossed over the other his other arm reached to rest over the back of Ren’s chair.

“When you gamble,” Jin began, “How does it make you feel? What drives you?” He eyed Ren’s profile and leaned in just a tad. “What keeps you coming back? Is it the money? Is it the people you meet? Is it the…rush of winning? The risk? I’ve always wondered why some people get hooked on it.”

He sighed, “I can understand smoking or drinking…even sex though I’ve never had any. Fighting I get. Killing too probably. But gambling? You’re leaving so much to chance and just praying that the universe grants you a stroke of luck. What’s the point?”

Ren clenched his jaw as he watched the flow of cards. It did give him a rush when he won the last round, and a part of him couldn’t help but want to feel that again. Gambling was his drug, his addiction that he would constantly feed and never feel full enough.

He jerked away ever so slightly when Jin-Woo leaned in toward him. Ren stared at him, a perturbed expression on his face. “It’s definitely not the people I meet,” he deadpanned. His eyes narrowed then at the mention Jin made about sex. Breath hitching he straightened and asked, “How old are you?” The last thing he needed was a minor getting him in more trouble.

“Rude,” Jin smiled though, unbothered by the verbal jab while his eyes gleamed with amusement. Shrugging a shoulder he said, “I’m 18. Recently turned. Well a few months ago anyway. I have a highschool diploma and two jobs and everything if you need proof.” He fluttered his mascara coated lashes at Ren with a smile. “So it’s not the people. Then it’s the feeling right?”

He waved a hand as the dealer got the cards ready and began to deal them out. “The feeling of winning…of knowing your risk paid off in the end. But then I imagine losing is almost this crushing, terrible feeling.” He nodded, “I get that at least. I don’t win much at life in general so anything different from all consuming crushing weight of being a failure has to be nice.”

Ren wasn’t as devastated as he would have been if Jin were one year younger. However the guy wasn’t even old enough to legally drink. He wasn’t even sure if eighteen year olds could gamble. But what was he doing there anyway, offering three hundred dollars to an older guy? It didn’t make any sense to him.

“I know you’re not here to find out the boring details about why I gamble,” Ren snapped. He turned in Jin-Woo’s direction with a scowl. “Are you going to tell me or continue beating around the bush?”

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

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Jin smiled slowly, knowing that Ren was still rather stuck in his paranoia he looked to the cards. The dealer laid down the next one and he blinked, “…Twenty-one. BlackJack.” The bid was doubled and returned to Ren in the form of chips. With his smile still warm and pleased, Jin’s eyes flicked to Ren.

“Another round?”

Brows furrowing, Ren stared at the cards in disbelief. He watched as he received his chips and he glanced over at Jin. Of course, that was just a coincidence. It couldn’t be as Jin-Woo said–he would win any bet with the money Ren was given.

At this point it wasn’t about the money for Ren, he just wanted to prove the stranger wrong, to show him that he shouldn’t be walking around and making those kinds of promises to people.

“Again,” said Ren.

Jin nodded to the dealer who used the rewarded money and then another hundred dollars. Three Hundred in all on the line. He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he watched the dealer sweep up the cards and start shuffling them swiftly. He prepped his cheek into his palm and rested his elbow on the table. One leg still crossed over the other his other arm reached to rest over the back of Ren’s chair.

“When you gamble,” Jin began, “How does it make you feel? What drives you?” He eyed Ren’s profile and leaned in just a tad. “What keeps you coming back? Is it the money? Is it the people you meet? Is it the…rush of winning? The risk? I’ve always wondered why some people get hooked on it.”

He sighed, “I can understand smoking or drinking…even sex though I’ve never had any. Fighting I get. Killing too probably. But gambling? You’re leaving so much to chance and just praying that the universe grants you a stroke of luck. What’s the point?”

Ren clenched his jaw as he watched the flow of cards. It did give him a rush when he won the last round, and a part of him couldn’t help but want to feel that again. Gambling was his drug, his addiction that he would constantly feed and never feel full enough.

He jerked away ever so slightly when Jin-Woo leaned in toward him. Ren stared at him, a perturbed expression on his face. “It’s definitely not the people I meet,” he deadpanned. His eyes narrowed then at the mention Jin made about sex. Breath hitching he straightened and asked, “How old are you?” The last thing he needed was a minor getting him in more trouble.

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

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Jin did not respond to that. It was not what he wanted persay, but he was unsure of how much Ren knew and what he could do. Just because someone looked human it did not mean they were. And Jin might have been the underling of a powerful demon from hell but he himself was only a slinky of a dragon, a slithering snake with little to no real feats except he would not age until he was at least 1500. IF he lived that long. It was just better to play it safe.

“Well that’s fine if you don’t believe me. But you will.” He sat up as the dealer shuffled through the cards and began to lay out what they would use for for the game.

Quietly he watched as the cards were dealt and only tilted his head as the amount came to 16. Jin looked to Ren, meeting his gaze he said, “You choose. Hit or stay?” He only had 100 of the 300 put up for a bid so far.

Ren was human all right, and he had no clue there were other beings living among them. There was no telling how he would react if he were to ever find out. His life was already stressful as it was, suffering from addiction and an unsteady source of income. He stared at the cards on the table before he glanced over at at Jin-Woo.

Still feeling spiteful, he wanted to lose on purpose. The guy was so confident he would win with his money that it made Ren want to prove him wrong. He sighed and looked at the table as he said, “Hit me.”

Jin smiled slowly, knowing that Ren was still rather stuck in his paranoia he looked to the cards. The dealer laid down the next one and he blinked, “…Twenty-one. BlackJack.” The bid was doubled and returned to Ren in the form of chips. With his smile still warm and pleased, Jin’s eyes flicked to Ren.

“Another round?”

Brows furrowing, Ren stared at the cards in disbelief. He watched as he received his chips and he glanced over at Jin. Of course, that was just a coincidence. It couldn’t be as Jin-Woo said--he would win any bet with the money Ren was given.

At this point it wasn’t about the money for Ren, he just wanted to prove the stranger wrong, to show him that he shouldn’t be walking around and making those kinds of promises to people.

“Again,” said Ren.

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

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Ren hesitated at the table, ready to be turned away. But Jin-Woo convinced the dealer to let him play despite Ren’s history. A part of him wanted to lose the money out of pure spite. Obviously he had a problem when it came to interacting with other people but what else was new.

No one is this nice for no reason, though. He glanced at Jin out of the corner of his eye suspiciously, before he took a seat on the stool. “I don’t believe you,” he responded honestly. “But I’m dying to know what it is you want from me.”

Jin did not respond to that. It was not what he wanted persay, but he was unsure of how much Ren knew and what he could do. Just because someone looked human it did not mean they were. And Jin might have been the underling of a powerful demon from hell but he himself was only a slinky of a dragon, a slithering snake with little to no real feats except he would not age until he was at least 1500. IF he lived that long. It was just better to play it safe.

“Well that’s fine if you don’t believe me. But you will.” He sat up as the dealer shuffled through the cards and began to lay out what they would use for for the game.

Quietly he watched as the cards were dealt and only tilted his head as the amount came to 16. Jin looked to Ren, meeting his gaze he said, “You choose. Hit or stay?” He only had 100 of the 300 put up for a bid so far.

Ren was human all right, and he had no clue there were other beings living among them. There was no telling how he would react if he were to ever find out. His life was already stressful as it was, suffering from addiction and an unsteady source of income. He stared at the cards on the table before he glanced over at at Jin-Woo.

Still feeling spiteful, he wanted to lose on purpose. The guy was so confident he would win with his money that it made Ren want to prove him wrong. He sighed and looked at the table as he said, “Hit me.”

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

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Ren tensed when the man pressed his hand up against his chest. Grimacing, he took the money and looked it over for a moment. At this point he didn’t care if he won, he just wanted to know what the hell this man–Jin-Woo–wanted. He narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t pull away when their arms were linked.

Following along, he grunted a little and glanced around, only to fix Jin-Woo with an incredulous expression. Black Jack, really? Now this guy must be on something. Was he trying to make Ren lose on purpose?

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Ren responded, the tips of his ears burning. He always assumed the worst when someone knew who he was by name. It was becoming more convincing that this Jin-Woo knew about the kind of work he does.

Going to the table he said, “They have not be all bad-ah,” he raised a hand when the dealer leaned forward, about to tell them to probably cut it off for the night. Jin just smiled, expression warm and sweet, “It’s on my tab sir, we’re fine. Let him play.”

The dealer sighed but grudgingly agreed. After all, new money was never turned away. Jin had no debts yet or old scores to settle. If he wanted to throw his money way on some unlucky addict then he was free to do so.

Sitting at a stool, Jin crossed one leg over the other and patted the one next to him with a smile. “Ren you should relax honestly. I’m not here to ruin you.” Mostly.

Ren hesitated at the table, ready to be turned away. But Jin-Woo convinced the dealer to let him play despite Ren’s history. A part of him wanted to lose the money out of pure spite. Obviously he had a problem when it came to interacting with other people but what else was new.

No one is this nice for no reason, though. He glanced at Jin out of the corner of his eye suspiciously, before he took a seat on the stool. “I don’t believe you,” he responded honestly. “But I’m dying to know what it is you want from me.”

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

After spending several years of his life playing it safe and flying under the radar because that was the only way he knew how, Jin had been given an opportunity to rise. Only a little of course, but for him it was like a whole other flight of stairs. The mistake of the family, the cursed seed, hidden away like a sick pet out of sight, out of mind. For a while Jin had subscribed to that lifestyle, it was easier to exist and get by when no one noticed him. Making calls in his tiny studio apartment and eating the same shit from the same four delivery services got pretty old though.

Blame it on monotony and an annoying letter from his father that brought him here.

Here being the upper level of an upscale bar with ritzy waitresses and clientele that knew how to throw money around and make deals. While Jin knew this was like trying to fish from the common river for beings like Lucian, he saw it as good practice. He needed to sharpen his social skills and use his ability to make a fierce cat eye and a boring straight man look twice his way to get a catch.

Seated at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, Jin drank a bubbly iced club soda since it didn’t matter if he carried a Platinum card or a fake I.D. no one would serve him. He could potentially gamble away millions of dollars but he couldn’t fucking drink? Ridiculous. He had come here to do more than drink and smoke though, which he also did, the cigarette hanging daintily from his left hand and smoke filtering into the already cloudy air.

Jin-Woo had been scoping the area out for the past couple of weeks, getting a read on certain people, what they needed, what they wanted, what they aspired to. And he had two names embedded into his mind, two targets that could potentially work. He just needed to find the right words, the right deal.

Licking his lips as white smoke blew from his nostrils, he tried to hide his little tell and sucked on his cigarette so no one could question why his exhale smelled more like a campfire rather than a filtered cigarette.

Tonight was his lucky night. Although, he told himself that the other night, and the night before that. The split lip he was sporting was enough for anyone to guess that his night hadn’t been so lucky. Ren never knew when to quit, really, unless his life literally depended on it. Then he would high-tail it out of whatever situation he got himself tangled up in.

He was searching for that high; whenever he won or even came close to winning he was walking on air. It pumped his adrenaline, made his heart race like he had just finished a marathon, and he did whatever he could to feel that again as much as possible.

Unfortunately the lengths he would go to in order to do that were not the wisest of choices. He had an excellent poker face, an even better slight of hand. But one of the other players must have had better eyesight, or was just hazarding a really good guess. Either way he ended up on the floor, taking a kick to the stomach before the others went back to playing without him.

“Fuck,” Ren grunted, still on the floor. The fact that it wasn’t all that clean made it worse.

It would seem the fates had already pulled a name. Jin liked to make sure the targets he chose were on the precipice of something. Either put there by circumstances or their own ridiculous us choices it just made the payout that much sweeter when they felt as if what they needed was to give in to the fear that told them to risk it all. It was okay to risk it. It would hurt like hell in the process sure and maybe the fallout would be astronomical to deal with. In the moment though what did pain matter in front of baseless pride?

Fluid and dark, Jin rose from the stool he was on and left his glass behind. The heels of his boots hit the club floor in rapt clicks. As he approached Ren, his dark gaze slowly raked across his crumpled form. Then he dropped down into a crouch, one arm over his knees and the other up so he could pull the cigarette from his mouth. A plume of smoke rushed over Ren’s ahead just a foot above.

“…Looks like you could use a hand. Or maybe several hands. Good ones at that.” He smiled to himself and wondered if his boss could appreciate the word play - ugh probably not. “Need some help?”

Ren was contemplating whether or not he should call it a night when a figure was suddenly there. Squinting with his mouth parted, he stared at the stranger only to look away when the smoke rushed near. He coughed as he rolled onto his side. “I’m good,” he responded, slowly sitting up. Then he gave himself an extra push to stand on his feet.

He winced at the pain in his gut that had yet to fade and he looked at the stranger again. Sliding his gaze away he dusted himself off and decided to forgo the discarded cards on the floor.

It was in his nature to suspect those that seemed like they wanted to help him. Ren doesn’t really luck out when it comes to friends, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know why that was. He was unreliable; not the loyal type that people often look for. So he immediately wondered why the stranger approached.

Jin quietly watched as the man pushed himself up with a modicum of grace. Admirable. He looked up, still dropped down and crouched. Jin did not rise until he got another drag of his cigarette and slowly rose up, hip cocking and hand falling down so he could release another cloud of smoke. Jin slowly smiled and said, “My apologies. I just thought perhaps you could use some help.” He tilted his head as he looked beyond the man to a few more tables.

Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few bills. Sometimes if the arrangements called for it Jin could convince his boss to let him have some petty cash for the assignments. And so far Jin had been really good about keeping track and making sure every dollar spent was reimbursed to his boss in energy. Money was important but it did not feed the belly of a being who rose from the depths of hell.

“You know,” Jin sighed, voice casual, “I came here to see if I could gamble a bit but truth be told all these games are a little foreign to me.” He glanced to Ren, handsome even with blood on his chin and rumpled clothes. “But I can still play. In a way.” He took a small step towards his focus and with one hand filled with three hundred dollars, he stretched it out. “Bet a hundred in the next round of whatever game you win and I guarantee you’ll win. After that, we should talk.”

Adjusting his leather jacket, Ren glanced at the stranger out of the corner of his eye. There was something unsettling about him–nothing to do with his appearance, since it wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before in the bars he frequents when he’s looking for someone to spend the night with.

Ren turned toward him when he saw him reaching in his pocket, only to take a step back. He was surprised to see that he was actually pulling out money instead of a weapon. For a split second, Ren assumed the stranger wanted to buy a night with him.

Looking at the money that was being offered to him, Ren narrowed his eyes despite the urge to take that bet. “How about let’s skip whatever game you’re trying to play and tell me what you want,” he responded defensively.

“Straight to the point,” Jin murmured, smiling softly, “No foreplay at all huh? Well fine, that’s fine.” He stepped closer to Ren once again, not letting him lessen the space between them at any point. He was fine with this too, he could play this part. He slid the cash between his index and middle finger, the sliver of green wedged between his fingers and his dark eyes admiring a handsome if not slightly weathered face.

“You’re going to win the next three rounds if you put this money in.” He smiled, “And since you’re having some difficulty getting in, I’ll accompany you to one of the tables.” He raised a brow, “When that happens you are going to listen to what I have to say and if you believe in whatever slide of hand Lady Luck has to offer you will do what I say after that.”

He held up his other hand, palm up in slight surrender, “It won’t be anything sinister, I promise. I can sense you don’t have the mental fortitude for such a thing. So?” Their eyes met, and Jin tipped up his chin. “What’ll it be? Give in, quit playing for the night…or…” Jin moved the money between his fingers and spread out the bills, thumb pushed in against the wad of green. “Take a chance, see if you can keep the money, and trust that I will not screw you over.”

“You have ten seconds to decide.”

Ren clenched his jaw and curled his hands into fists when the stranger stepped closer. There was something about him that just immediately put him on edge–could be that he was too eager to help him out or something else that Ren just could not place.

Furrowing his brows, his initial thought was that maybe this someone was going to make sure the games were rigged in his favor. The stakes that were named made Ren grimace; now he wasn’t so sure that this wasn’t some sort of ploy for him to be bought for a night or maybe more. It wouldn’t be the first time he was recognized while not standing on a street corner or having a profile up on an app.

Though he supposed if it were anything like that he could just high-tail it out of there, if he wanted. His eyes glanced at the money, frowning when he was given such a short time to give an answer.

“Fine, I’ll play your game,” Ren answered. “But if I don’t like what happens after, you can keep your money and I’ll be gone.”

10…9….8….7….6…..

“Good,” Jin chirped, a little frazzled for a second that the man would have rejected his offer. With a grin, he shoved the money up against Ren’s chest, fingers sprawling over where his heart was to receive that little rush of heat that came just from giving in. It was not the exact amount Lucian would need to be fed but it was an appetizer, a small morsel of a much bigger meal to be received later on.

“I’m Jin-Woo,” he said, turning to slide up against Ren’s side and hook an arm through his. “You can call me Jin.” He walked ahead, leading Ren more than being led. He eyed the sprawl of tables, the flash of chips or cash or cards. He hummed as he decided to do a Black Jack Table. It would show Ren the exact power Jin had to make the odds turn in his favor. It would be the best way to get him intrigued and hooked into what came next.

Waving ahead he said, “And you’re Ren right?” He smiled, “I’m not a stalker I’ve just heard people throw your name around a lot.”

Ren tensed when the man pressed his hand up against his chest. Grimacing, he took the money and looked it over for a moment. At this point he didn’t care if he won, he just wanted to know what the hell this man--Jin-Woo--wanted. He narrowed his eyes at him but didn’t pull away when their arms were linked.

Following along, he grunted a little and glanced around, only to fix Jin-Woo with an incredulous expression. Black Jack, really? Now this guy must be on something. Was he trying to make Ren lose on purpose?

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Ren responded, the tips of his ears burning. He always assumed the worst when someone knew who he was by name. It was becoming more convincing that this Jin-Woo knew about the kind of work he does.

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

After spending several years of his life playing it safe and flying under the radar because that was the only way he knew how, Jin had been given an opportunity to rise. Only a little of course, but for him it was like a whole other flight of stairs. The mistake of the family, the cursed seed, hidden away like a sick pet out of sight, out of mind. For a while Jin had subscribed to that lifestyle, it was easier to exist and get by when no one noticed him. Making calls in his tiny studio apartment and eating the same shit from the same four delivery services got pretty old though.

Blame it on monotony and an annoying letter from his father that brought him here.

Here being the upper level of an upscale bar with ritzy waitresses and clientele that knew how to throw money around and make deals. While Jin knew this was like trying to fish from the common river for beings like Lucian, he saw it as good practice. He needed to sharpen his social skills and use his ability to make a fierce cat eye and a boring straight man look twice his way to get a catch.

Seated at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, Jin drank a bubbly iced club soda since it didn’t matter if he carried a Platinum card or a fake I.D. no one would serve him. He could potentially gamble away millions of dollars but he couldn’t fucking drink? Ridiculous. He had come here to do more than drink and smoke though, which he also did, the cigarette hanging daintily from his left hand and smoke filtering into the already cloudy air.

Jin-Woo had been scoping the area out for the past couple of weeks, getting a read on certain people, what they needed, what they wanted, what they aspired to. And he had two names embedded into his mind, two targets that could potentially work. He just needed to find the right words, the right deal.

Licking his lips as white smoke blew from his nostrils, he tried to hide his little tell and sucked on his cigarette so no one could question why his exhale smelled more like a campfire rather than a filtered cigarette.

Tonight was his lucky night. Although, he told himself that the other night, and the night before that. The split lip he was sporting was enough for anyone to guess that his night hadn’t been so lucky. Ren never knew when to quit, really, unless his life literally depended on it. Then he would high-tail it out of whatever situation he got himself tangled up in.

He was searching for that high; whenever he won or even came close to winning he was walking on air. It pumped his adrenaline, made his heart race like he had just finished a marathon, and he did whatever he could to feel that again as much as possible.

Unfortunately the lengths he would go to in order to do that were not the wisest of choices. He had an excellent poker face, an even better slight of hand. But one of the other players must have had better eyesight, or was just hazarding a really good guess. Either way he ended up on the floor, taking a kick to the stomach before the others went back to playing without him.

“Fuck,” Ren grunted, still on the floor. The fact that it wasn’t all that clean made it worse.

It would seem the fates had already pulled a name. Jin liked to make sure the targets he chose were on the precipice of something. Either put there by circumstances or their own ridiculous us choices it just made the payout that much sweeter when they felt as if what they needed was to give in to the fear that told them to risk it all. It was okay to risk it. It would hurt like hell in the process sure and maybe the fallout would be astronomical to deal with. In the moment though what did pain matter in front of baseless pride?

Fluid and dark, Jin rose from the stool he was on and left his glass behind. The heels of his boots hit the club floor in rapt clicks. As he approached Ren, his dark gaze slowly raked across his crumpled form. Then he dropped down into a crouch, one arm over his knees and the other up so he could pull the cigarette from his mouth. A plume of smoke rushed over Ren’s ahead just a foot above.

“…Looks like you could use a hand. Or maybe several hands. Good ones at that.” He smiled to himself and wondered if his boss could appreciate the word play - ugh probably not. “Need some help?”

Ren was contemplating whether or not he should call it a night when a figure was suddenly there. Squinting with his mouth parted, he stared at the stranger only to look away when the smoke rushed near. He coughed as he rolled onto his side. “I’m good,” he responded, slowly sitting up. Then he gave himself an extra push to stand on his feet.

He winced at the pain in his gut that had yet to fade and he looked at the stranger again. Sliding his gaze away he dusted himself off and decided to forgo the discarded cards on the floor.

It was in his nature to suspect those that seemed like they wanted to help him. Ren doesn’t really luck out when it comes to friends, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know why that was. He was unreliable; not the loyal type that people often look for. So he immediately wondered why the stranger approached.

Jin quietly watched as the man pushed himself up with a modicum of grace. Admirable. He looked up, still dropped down and crouched. Jin did not rise until he got another drag of his cigarette and slowly rose up, hip cocking and hand falling down so he could release another cloud of smoke. Jin slowly smiled and said, “My apologies. I just thought perhaps you could use some help.” He tilted his head as he looked beyond the man to a few more tables.

Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few bills. Sometimes if the arrangements called for it Jin could convince his boss to let him have some petty cash for the assignments. And so far Jin had been really good about keeping track and making sure every dollar spent was reimbursed to his boss in energy. Money was important but it did not feed the belly of a being who rose from the depths of hell.

“You know,” Jin sighed, voice casual, “I came here to see if I could gamble a bit but truth be told all these games are a little foreign to me.” He glanced to Ren, handsome even with blood on his chin and rumpled clothes. “But I can still play. In a way.” He took a small step towards his focus and with one hand filled with three hundred dollars, he stretched it out. “Bet a hundred in the next round of whatever game you win and I guarantee you’ll win. After that, we should talk.”

Adjusting his leather jacket, Ren glanced at the stranger out of the corner of his eye. There was something unsettling about him–nothing to do with his appearance, since it wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before in the bars he frequents when he’s looking for someone to spend the night with.

Ren turned toward him when he saw him reaching in his pocket, only to take a step back. He was surprised to see that he was actually pulling out money instead of a weapon. For a split second, Ren assumed the stranger wanted to buy a night with him.

Looking at the money that was being offered to him, Ren narrowed his eyes despite the urge to take that bet. “How about let’s skip whatever game you’re trying to play and tell me what you want,” he responded defensively.

“Straight to the point,” Jin murmured, smiling softly, “No foreplay at all huh? Well fine, that’s fine.” He stepped closer to Ren once again, not letting him lessen the space between them at any point. He was fine with this too, he could play this part. He slid the cash between his index and middle finger, the sliver of green wedged between his fingers and his dark eyes admiring a handsome if not slightly weathered face.

“You’re going to win the next three rounds if you put this money in.” He smiled, “And since you’re having some difficulty getting in, I’ll accompany you to one of the tables.” He raised a brow, “When that happens you are going to listen to what I have to say and if you believe in whatever slide of hand Lady Luck has to offer you will do what I say after that.”

He held up his other hand, palm up in slight surrender, “It won’t be anything sinister, I promise. I can sense you don’t have the mental fortitude for such a thing. So?” Their eyes met, and Jin tipped up his chin. “What’ll it be? Give in, quit playing for the night…or…” Jin moved the money between his fingers and spread out the bills, thumb pushed in against the wad of green. “Take a chance, see if you can keep the money, and trust that I will not screw you over.”

“You have ten seconds to decide.”

Ren clenched his jaw and curled his hands into fists when the stranger stepped closer. There was something about him that just immediately put him on edge--could be that he was too eager to help him out or something else that Ren just could not place.

Furrowing his brows, his initial thought was that maybe this someone was going to make sure the games were rigged in his favor. The stakes that were named made Ren grimace; now he wasn’t so sure that this wasn’t some sort of ploy for him to be bought for a night or maybe more. It wouldn’t be the first time he was recognized while not standing on a street corner or having a profile up on an app.

Though he supposed if it were anything like that he could just high-tail it out of there, if he wanted. His eyes glanced at the money, frowning when he was given such a short time to give an answer.

“Fine, I’ll play your game,” Ren answered. “But if I don’t like what happens after, you can keep your money and I’ll be gone.”

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

After spending several years of his life playing it safe and flying under the radar because that was the only way he knew how, Jin had been given an opportunity to rise. Only a little of course, but for him it was like a whole other flight of stairs. The mistake of the family, the cursed seed, hidden away like a sick pet out of sight, out of mind. For a while Jin had subscribed to that lifestyle, it was easier to exist and get by when no one noticed him. Making calls in his tiny studio apartment and eating the same shit from the same four delivery services got pretty old though.

Blame it on monotony and an annoying letter from his father that brought him here.

Here being the upper level of an upscale bar with ritzy waitresses and clientele that knew how to throw money around and make deals. While Jin knew this was like trying to fish from the common river for beings like Lucian, he saw it as good practice. He needed to sharpen his social skills and use his ability to make a fierce cat eye and a boring straight man look twice his way to get a catch.

Seated at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, Jin drank a bubbly iced club soda since it didn’t matter if he carried a Platinum card or a fake I.D. no one would serve him. He could potentially gamble away millions of dollars but he couldn’t fucking drink? Ridiculous. He had come here to do more than drink and smoke though, which he also did, the cigarette hanging daintily from his left hand and smoke filtering into the already cloudy air.

Jin-Woo had been scoping the area out for the past couple of weeks, getting a read on certain people, what they needed, what they wanted, what they aspired to. And he had two names embedded into his mind, two targets that could potentially work. He just needed to find the right words, the right deal.

Licking his lips as white smoke blew from his nostrils, he tried to hide his little tell and sucked on his cigarette so no one could question why his exhale smelled more like a campfire rather than a filtered cigarette.

Tonight was his lucky night. Although, he told himself that the other night, and the night before that. The split lip he was sporting was enough for anyone to guess that his night hadn’t been so lucky. Ren never knew when to quit, really, unless his life literally depended on it. Then he would high-tail it out of whatever situation he got himself tangled up in.

He was searching for that high; whenever he won or even came close to winning he was walking on air. It pumped his adrenaline, made his heart race like he had just finished a marathon, and he did whatever he could to feel that again as much as possible.

Unfortunately the lengths he would go to in order to do that were not the wisest of choices. He had an excellent poker face, an even better slight of hand. But one of the other players must have had better eyesight, or was just hazarding a really good guess. Either way he ended up on the floor, taking a kick to the stomach before the others went back to playing without him.

“Fuck,” Ren grunted, still on the floor. The fact that it wasn’t all that clean made it worse.

It would seem the fates had already pulled a name. Jin liked to make sure the targets he chose were on the precipice of something. Either put there by circumstances or their own ridiculous us choices it just made the payout that much sweeter when they felt as if what they needed was to give in to the fear that told them to risk it all. It was okay to risk it. It would hurt like hell in the process sure and maybe the fallout would be astronomical to deal with. In the moment though what did pain matter in front of baseless pride?

Fluid and dark, Jin rose from the stool he was on and left his glass behind. The heels of his boots hit the club floor in rapt clicks. As he approached Ren, his dark gaze slowly raked across his crumpled form. Then he dropped down into a crouch, one arm over his knees and the other up so he could pull the cigarette from his mouth. A plume of smoke rushed over Ren’s ahead just a foot above.

“…Looks like you could use a hand. Or maybe several hands. Good ones at that.” He smiled to himself and wondered if his boss could appreciate the word play - ugh probably not. “Need some help?”

Ren was contemplating whether or not he should call it a night when a figure was suddenly there. Squinting with his mouth parted, he stared at the stranger only to look away when the smoke rushed near. He coughed as he rolled onto his side. “I’m good,” he responded, slowly sitting up. Then he gave himself an extra push to stand on his feet.

He winced at the pain in his gut that had yet to fade and he looked at the stranger again. Sliding his gaze away he dusted himself off and decided to forgo the discarded cards on the floor.

It was in his nature to suspect those that seemed like they wanted to help him. Ren doesn’t really luck out when it comes to friends, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know why that was. He was unreliable; not the loyal type that people often look for. So he immediately wondered why the stranger approached.

Jin quietly watched as the man pushed himself up with a modicum of grace. Admirable. He looked up, still dropped down and crouched. Jin did not rise until he got another drag of his cigarette and slowly rose up, hip cocking and hand falling down so he could release another cloud of smoke. Jin slowly smiled and said, “My apologies. I just thought perhaps you could use some help.” He tilted his head as he looked beyond the man to a few more tables.

Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few bills. Sometimes if the arrangements called for it Jin could convince his boss to let him have some petty cash for the assignments. And so far Jin had been really good about keeping track and making sure every dollar spent was reimbursed to his boss in energy. Money was important but it did not feed the belly of a being who rose from the depths of hell.

“You know,” Jin sighed, voice casual, “I came here to see if I could gamble a bit but truth be told all these games are a little foreign to me.” He glanced to Ren, handsome even with blood on his chin and rumpled clothes. “But I can still play. In a way.” He took a small step towards his focus and with one hand filled with three hundred dollars, he stretched it out. “Bet a hundred in the next round of whatever game you win and I guarantee you’ll win. After that, we should talk.”

Adjusting his leather jacket, Ren glanced at the stranger out of the corner of his eye. There was something unsettling about him--nothing to do with his appearance, since it wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before in the bars he frequents when he’s looking for someone to spend the night with.

Ren turned toward him when he saw him reaching in his pocket, only to take a step back. He was surprised to see that he was actually pulling out money instead of a weapon. For a split second, Ren assumed the stranger wanted to buy a night with him.

Looking at the money that was being offered to him, Ren narrowed his eyes despite the urge to take that bet. “How about let’s skip whatever game you’re trying to play and tell me what you want,” he responded defensively.

A Mistake by Any Other Name {TAG; Mateo}

@lore-wcw

It wasn’t as though Maz had placed the wrong order. Or given the wrong day. Hell, he hadn’t even forgotten the address of Sunny’s place - on the contrary, he’d given all he could possibly give correctly and still managed to make one fatal mistake:

He was at the actual establishment when he said he wouldn’t be.

Someone no-showed or called out sick, Sunny was left stranded - it didn’t seem to matter. Because there Maz was, not always smiling, but capable, competent, and managerial. He was a backup, he was a front line person - wherever there was a gap, Maz filled it. Less suggestively, he was dependable. That was the long and short of it.

He’d just finished running around gathering items for the event that had been booked at the restaurant - a cafe, a diner, whatever it was, it was modest but well-meant, and perfect for a crunchy-granola small-biz group that wanted to talk human synergy rather than business items. He’d checked his watch and noticed the time - but he’d had no time to flee to the back as the arrival of the “flower boy” was nigh -

See, the mistake also hadn’t been in who he’d chosen to deliver the flowers. The florist was inarguably one of the freshest and most-together in the city; compared to the other three places he’d stopped before. At least, that was the argument Maz would put forth into the universe should anyone ask him.

It had absolutely zero to do with the fact that said florist looked like the combined imaginings of an L.L. Bean catalog and an indie singer who preferred acoustic to electric. Or that he smelled better than the entirety of his shop combined. Or that Maz was well-aware of the fact he had a tendency to crush hard on kind people or those with a sense of humor - it hardly seemed to matter.

All that mattered was nothing went horribly awry. Maybe it’d be subtle. Quick. Succinct. In and out. Much like his errand had initially intended to be.

And maybe, if he was lucky, Mateo wouldn’t mention or even remember any of the awkward introduction he’d had to Maz and all that came with him.

He’d just have to wait [re: lurk awkwardly behind the espresso machine] and see.

Mateo arrived to the restaurant right on schedule. He parked his truck as close as possible to the door so that he could bring in the arrangements he put together last night before he stored them in the floral cooler. Mateo opened the doors on the back of his truck and counted the arrangements for the fifth time as well as checking the vases. They weren’t the same ones he used when Maz came by and ordered the flowers; the vase he used was transparent but he switched it in favor for ones with frosted glass.

Wearing an off-white sweater, dark blue jeans and a green apron, he began to bring in the arrangements. It was only two trips, since he had boxes that could hold six at a time. He introduced himself to Sunny, then let her take the lead as he helped with placing the flowers on the tables.

He surveyed the place once he was finished, satisfied with his work. Mateo was rather glad that he delivered them–as usual he prefers to see that the choices he made had paid off.

The florist lost that train of thought when his gaze landed on a familiar figure behind the espresso machine. Arching an eyebrow, Mateo recalled that the man had been very clear he wasn’t going to be there, yet there he was.

Maz wanted to go down the drain with the rest of the discarded coffee the minute the pretty-boy florist strolled through the doors. Alright, he didn’t stroll. He walked with a purpose, doing his job, making his way downtown, the whole bit. That being said, he was…somehow worse; outside of his element. There was more sun in the wide-open windows of the establishment; more ways for the sun to find the angles of Mateo’s face and throw his features into more forgiving relief. He looked less like a lurker in the woods outside of his own shop - just a dude, a normal dude, much like Sunny, who had no idea what kind of things; what monsters, walked alongside them.

His green eyes darted back to the espresso machine and Maz swallowed sharply, fixing one of the handles that so obviously did not need fixing. He tried to no avail to become something subtler; a little less obvious, furrowing his brow and fidgeting with a couple of the levers made for pulling shots. Maybe if he appeared busy there’d be minimal backlash.

That is, until Sunny asked if Mateo wanted a drink on the house for the delivery - and Maz pinned his boss with a look so venomous it would’ve shamed a rattlesnake into early retirement.

Judging by the way Maz snapped his gaze away from him and instead focused on the machine, he was definitely not planning on meeting him again. Mateo supposed their final conversation was awkward, but he didn’t understand the extent of Maz’s embarrassment. Sure, Mateo didn’t know that Maz had been appreciative of his looks and had to spell it out for him--why was that different from what Maz had already said to him with the assumption that Mateo knew what he meant to begin with?

When Sunny asked if he wanted something to drink, Mateo glanced at Maz out of the corner of his eye and immediately focused onto Sunny again. The look on the young man’s face was murderous.

“Raincheck,” he answered. “I should be going.” He had plenty of time to stick around before his hour away from the shop was up, but he rarely does unless someone else at the venue he services was interested in his work. Taking a business card out of his apron pocket, he handed it to Sunny.

The card read:

Over the Moon Florist

Mateo Davis

415-356-9377

#are u ready for this #the seven digits spell out flowers #i couldn't resist

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

After spending several years of his life playing it safe and flying under the radar because that was the only way he knew how, Jin had been given an opportunity to rise. Only a little of course, but for him it was like a whole other flight of stairs. The mistake of the family, the cursed seed, hidden away like a sick pet out of sight, out of mind. For a while Jin had subscribed to that lifestyle, it was easier to exist and get by when no one noticed him. Making calls in his tiny studio apartment and eating the same shit from the same four delivery services got pretty old though.

Blame it on monotony and an annoying letter from his father that brought him here.

Here being the upper level of an upscale bar with ritzy waitresses and clientele that knew how to throw money around and make deals. While Jin knew this was like trying to fish from the common river for beings like Lucian, he saw it as good practice. He needed to sharpen his social skills and use his ability to make a fierce cat eye and a boring straight man look twice his way to get a catch.

Seated at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, Jin drank a bubbly iced club soda since it didn’t matter if he carried a Platinum card or a fake I.D. no one would serve him. He could potentially gamble away millions of dollars but he couldn’t fucking drink? Ridiculous. He had come here to do more than drink and smoke though, which he also did, the cigarette hanging daintily from his left hand and smoke filtering into the already cloudy air.

Jin-Woo had been scoping the area out for the past couple of weeks, getting a read on certain people, what they needed, what they wanted, what they aspired to. And he had two names embedded into his mind, two targets that could potentially work. He just needed to find the right words, the right deal.

Licking his lips as white smoke blew from his nostrils, he tried to hide his little tell and sucked on his cigarette so no one could question why his exhale smelled more like a campfire rather than a filtered cigarette.

Tonight was his lucky night. Although, he told himself that the other night, and the night before that. The split lip he was sporting was enough for anyone to guess that his night hadn’t been so lucky. Ren never knew when to quit, really, unless his life literally depended on it. Then he would high-tail it out of whatever situation he got himself tangled up in.

He was searching for that high; whenever he won or even came close to winning he was walking on air. It pumped his adrenaline, made his heart race like he had just finished a marathon, and he did whatever he could to feel that again as much as possible.

Unfortunately the lengths he would go to in order to do that were not the wisest of choices. He had an excellent poker face, an even better slight of hand. But one of the other players must have had better eyesight, or was just hazarding a really good guess. Either way he ended up on the floor, taking a kick to the stomach before the others went back to playing without him.

“Fuck,” Ren grunted, still on the floor. The fact that it wasn’t all that clean made it worse.

It would seem the fates had already pulled a name. Jin liked to make sure the targets he chose were on the precipice of something. Either put there by circumstances or their own ridiculous us choices it just made the payout that much sweeter when they felt as if what they needed was to give in to the fear that told them to risk it all. It was okay to risk it. It would hurt like hell in the process sure and maybe the fallout would be astronomical to deal with. In the moment though what did pain matter in front of baseless pride?

Fluid and dark, Jin rose from the stool he was on and left his glass behind. The heels of his boots hit the club floor in rapt clicks. As he approached Ren, his dark gaze slowly raked across his crumpled form. Then he dropped down into a crouch, one arm over his knees and the other up so he could pull the cigarette from his mouth. A plume of smoke rushed over Ren’s ahead just a foot above.

“…Looks like you could use a hand. Or maybe several hands. Good ones at that.” He smiled to himself and wondered if his boss could appreciate the word play - ugh probably not. “Need some help?”

Ren was contemplating whether or not he should call it a night when a figure was suddenly there. Squinting with his mouth parted, he stared at the stranger only to look away when the smoke rushed near. He coughed as he rolled onto his side. “I’m good,” he responded, slowly sitting up. Then he gave himself an extra push to stand on his feet.

He winced at the pain in his gut that had yet to fade and he looked at the stranger again. Sliding his gaze away he dusted himself off and decided to forgo the discarded cards on the floor.

It was in his nature to suspect those that seemed like they wanted to help him. Ren doesn’t really luck out when it comes to friends, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know why that was. He was unreliable; not the loyal type that people often look for. So he immediately wondered why the stranger approached.

A Mistake by Any Other Name {TAG; Mateo}

@lore-wcw

It wasn’t as though Maz had placed the wrong order. Or given the wrong day. Hell, he hadn’t even forgotten the address of Sunny’s place - on the contrary, he’d given all he could possibly give correctly and still managed to make one fatal mistake:

He was at the actual establishment when he said he wouldn’t be.

Someone no-showed or called out sick, Sunny was left stranded - it didn’t seem to matter. Because there Maz was, not always smiling, but capable, competent, and managerial. He was a backup, he was a front line person - wherever there was a gap, Maz filled it. Less suggestively, he was dependable. That was the long and short of it.

He’d just finished running around gathering items for the event that had been booked at the restaurant - a cafe, a diner, whatever it was, it was modest but well-meant, and perfect for a crunchy-granola small-biz group that wanted to talk human synergy rather than business items. He’d checked his watch and noticed the time - but he’d had no time to flee to the back as the arrival of the “flower boy” was nigh -

See, the mistake also hadn’t been in who he’d chosen to deliver the flowers. The florist was inarguably one of the freshest and most-together in the city; compared to the other three places he’d stopped before. At least, that was the argument Maz would put forth into the universe should anyone ask him.

It had absolutely zero to do with the fact that said florist looked like the combined imaginings of an L.L. Bean catalog and an indie singer who preferred acoustic to electric. Or that he smelled better than the entirety of his shop combined. Or that Maz was well-aware of the fact he had a tendency to crush hard on kind people or those with a sense of humor - it hardly seemed to matter.

All that mattered was nothing went horribly awry. Maybe it’d be subtle. Quick. Succinct. In and out. Much like his errand had initially intended to be.

And maybe, if he was lucky, Mateo wouldn’t mention or even remember any of the awkward introduction he’d had to Maz and all that came with him.

He’d just have to wait [re: lurk awkwardly behind the espresso machine] and see.

Mateo arrived to the restaurant right on schedule. He parked his truck as close as possible to the door so that he could bring in the arrangements he put together last night before he stored them in the floral cooler. Mateo opened the doors on the back of his truck and counted the arrangements for the fifth time as well as checking the vases. They weren’t the same ones he used when Maz came by and ordered the flowers; the vase he used was transparent but he switched it in favor for ones with frosted glass.

Wearing an off-white sweater, dark blue jeans and a green apron, he began to bring in the arrangements. It was only two trips, since he had boxes that could hold six at a time. He introduced himself to Sunny, then let her take the lead as he helped with placing the flowers on the tables.

He surveyed the place once he was finished, satisfied with his work. Mateo was rather glad that he delivered them--as usual he prefers to see that the choices he made had paid off.

The florist lost that train of thought when his gaze landed on a familiar figure behind the espresso machine. Arching an eyebrow, Mateo recalled that the man had been very clear he wasn’t going to be there, yet there he was.

ricorper-wcw replied to your post: “ricorper-wcw replied to your post: “ricorper-wcw replied to your post:...”:

I think it's the piercing eyes

fhfhfh ur so sweet

Hit Me (Tag; Lore)

After spending several years of his life playing it safe and flying under the radar because that was the only way he knew how, Jin had been given an opportunity to rise. Only a little of course, but for him it was like a whole other flight of stairs. The mistake of the family, the cursed seed, hidden away like a sick pet out of sight, out of mind. For a while Jin had subscribed to that lifestyle, it was easier to exist and get by when no one noticed him. Making calls in his tiny studio apartment and eating the same shit from the same four delivery services got pretty old though.

Blame it on monotony and an annoying letter from his father that brought him here.

Here being the upper level of an upscale bar with ritzy waitresses and clientele that knew how to throw money around and make deals. While Jin knew this was like trying to fish from the common river for beings like Lucian, he saw it as good practice. He needed to sharpen his social skills and use his ability to make a fierce cat eye and a boring straight man look twice his way to get a catch.

Seated at the bar, one leg crossed over the other, Jin drank a bubbly iced club soda since it didn’t matter if he carried a Platinum card or a fake I.D. no one would serve him. He could potentially gamble away millions of dollars but he couldn’t fucking drink? Ridiculous. He had come here to do more than drink and smoke though, which he also did, the cigarette hanging daintily from his left hand and smoke filtering into the already cloudy air.

Jin-Woo had been scoping the area out for the past couple of weeks, getting a read on certain people, what they needed, what they wanted, what they aspired to. And he had two names embedded into his mind, two targets that could potentially work. He just needed to find the right words, the right deal.

Licking his lips as white smoke blew from his nostrils, he tried to hide his little tell and sucked on his cigarette so no one could question why his exhale smelled more like a campfire rather than a filtered cigarette.

Tonight was his lucky night. Although, he told himself that the other night, and the night before that. The split lip he was sporting was enough for anyone to guess that his night hadn’t been so lucky. Ren never knew when to quit, really, unless his life literally depended on it. Then he would high-tail it out of whatever situation he got himself tangled up in.

He was searching for that high; whenever he won or even came close to winning he was walking on air. It pumped his adrenaline, made his heart race like he had just finished a marathon, and he did whatever he could to feel that again as much as possible.

Unfortunately the lengths he would go to in order to do that were not the wisest of choices. He had an excellent poker face, an even better slight of hand. But one of the other players must have had better eyesight, or was just hazarding a really good guess. Either way he ended up on the floor, taking a kick to the stomach before the others went back to playing without him.

“Fuck,” Ren grunted, still on the floor. The fact that it wasn’t all that clean made it worse.

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