( get yourself a girlfriend, boy! )
“Perhaps, one day. But that isn’t today.” Sebastian replied, eyes following Maisie as she moved passed him. He still hadn’t thought much on what had happened during the job, the kiss as a distraction and his own indulgence right before he checked on the Rolls. Tearing his eyes from Maise’s form, he turned to Mickey and his tray of mysterious drinks.
Sebastian stared at the tray of drinks, not surprised to find he didn’t recognize a single one. He had never been one for too much drinking and still wasn’t. But spending time with Maisie and Mickey was well worth it, even if he drank a considerable amount less than them. “He is,” Sebastian agreed as he shot Mickey a glance at Maisie’s question and smiled, giving a soft nudge back to Maisie. “ There are plenty of reasons, but one of them is definitely the drinks.” Sebastian told her. There were indeed hundreds of reasons and the drinks didn’t reach the top hundred.
“It seems that’s all I have been doing lately with drinks presented to me is play roulette,” Sebastian said, giving Maisie a deadpan stare. He hadn’t minded the mystery coffee but it was strange to be doing the same with alcohol in a matter of weeks (no matter how different the atmosphere and circumstances.) Knowing he would get nothing but a sly grin from Mickey if he looked, Sebastian grabbing the drink in front of him once the spinning tray came to a stop.
“Congratulations Mickey, on your freedom from the hospital. Please don’t piss off Gañero enough to where she runs you over and puts you back in there. Or Katya just murders you. Cheers. ” Sebastian said, joking tone obvious to the two people who really knew him best as he lifted the drink to the other two.
( the dice gods say … Maisie gets drink #3, a Cat 5 Hurricane, known to be the ruin of many a tourist in New Orleans. Seb gets a Vesper, the martini made famous by the most recent iteration of James Bond movies. and Mickey gets a Dark & Stormy, good for the fire in his veins. )
grinning widely as the lazy susan slowly … slo-o-o-wly came to a stop before the three eager participants in front of it … Mickey noted with satisfaction that Maisie had gotten herself an appropriately colorful and fruity drink. Seb’s was less so —- far more posh and classy —- but Mickey inclined his head towards the hitter with a grin. “ goes well with your dark and mysterious persona, Bas! if ya don’t like it, give the lazy susan another spin. as for me, I’m takin’ my drink. “
and take it he did :: though he was a frat boy through and through, a constant mix of tequila and vodka churning through his veins at any given moment during his collegiate days, Mickey did enjoy himself some Caribbean drinks. the Dark n Stormy was plucked up from the lazy susan, and about half of it was downed in two solid gulps :: clearly Mickey was more than intent on celebrating his freedom from the hospital——– and from that wretched con——– on this night.
“ I’d toast to those fine women——– an’ Kitty Hirata, too, an’ Scout——— she’s kinda cute in her own way … right? guys? yeah? “ glancing quickly around the table, Mickey decided it was best to continue on, and quickly. “ but, y’know what? I’m gonna toast to a different set of people tonight.
here’s to the people that had my back. to Madi, who needs an industrial-strength decontamination after being trapped in a car with fuckin’ Santos. to you, Bas, for finding me——– estoy perdido——— in a goddamn labyrinth of skeletons, what the fuck, Paris, get yourself an actual city planner. to Mais, for makin’ the tires on that sweet ride squeal to get to me fast enough and not leaving me by myself to wander in the dark and end up like that one claymation dude in Corpse Bride. hey… here’s to all of you… don’t think I’d be quite right in the ol’ noggin if it wasn’t for you guys. “
and when Mickey killed the rest of his drink after that toast, the look in his eye during the long pause afterwards was anything but joking.
setting the empty glass down on the table, Mickey gave the lazy susan yet another spin —- indicating the night was far from done —- before he crossed his arms and leaned in on his elbows in order to get closer to both Seb and Mais. it was clear he didn’t want to be overheard :: didn’t seem like much of an issue, especially in a loud, crowded bar —- but they were con artists, and they didn’t get to where they were by being careless.
“ … I’ve heard rumors. rumors that James ran his mouth. rumors of a competition. man, so soon after the last con … whaddaya guys think? “
Her eyebrow quirked upwards just a little bit, an amused smile on Maisie’s lips before she dropped her gaze, busying herself by adjusting the shirt she was wearing-- the scar from the bullet had caused her throw out quite a few of her beloved crop tops, but the combo with very high-waisted black jeans and the purple top she was wearing at the moment went just high enough to conceal what had happened, yet still show a band of skin between the hem of her shirt and her pants. Unsurprisingly, she had been positively ecstatic to be able to wear that-- Mads, cheerfully, had painted her nails a deep purple as well. Maisie felt... well, good.
It had been a long time, honestly.
“You know, I think that either says a lot about you or the company you keep,” Mase replied to Seb with regards to the roulette thing, her voice mild as milk, as though none of this was her fault whatsoever. She had laughed at the poor boy after he had randomly picked some bitter concoction instead of the lighter flavored coffees he usually preferred. Hey, she cared for him-- that didn’t mean he was above her mockery.
Her drink looked fruity and deceptively innocent (her favourite kind), so she picked it up without much of a thought and lifted her glass minimally in mockery of a toast, before taking a sip of the drink. Oh, yeah. It was strong enough to make her thank her past self for wearing flats instead of the heels she had strongly considered earlier. A few of these and she’d have trouble walking. “Nice,” she said fervently in Mickey’s direction-- his toast however seemed to be too serious to match his persona and Maisie looked up in worry.
A moment of silence passed and she moved, nudging her foot against Mickey’s under the table-- perhaps a bit more harshly than necessary, but at least it got his attention. “I said it to Sebs and I’ll say it to you,” she said, the usual teasing tone of her voice lacking, replaced by something almost somber. “You’re my people, Fitz, and I trust you.” There was weight in that statement, a weight so heavy that Maisie momentarily felt like she couldn’t breathe, her fingers twitching for her car keys, a memory of a warm smile and Canadian summer-- but that was the past and this is the present. She wasn’t ready then, but she was ready now. She had to be. “I don’t give a fuck what the Masterminds say-- or Leverage for that matter. You three are my priority, always. So, keep your thanks, I don’t want it. We don’t live in a world where y’gotta thank me for having your back.” Flinching, Maisie realized that this probably sounded harsher than she meant for it to be, so she shrugged and looked vaguely sheepish. “--’S just who we are to each other. You’re... my people... or whatever.” Not family-- family was the wrong word, or may it wasn’t? It had been ruined for her, tainted, blood on a lottery ticket, a way out of hell in exchange for her soul. So, no, maybe not family. But maybe something better.
Almost shyly, she looked up to Mickey and then to Sebastian, aware that her speech was probably a bit too much for the purpose of the evening, so she busied herself with taking a large sip of that drink-- and after some contemplation, downing it till it was about back to half.
Leaning forward, Maisie listened, pursing her lips for a moment. “I’m thinkin’ if James wants to prove how big his dick is, there’s easier ways to do it,” she said bluntly. “But it’s not like they stand a chance anyways, so... Why the fuck not? I could use a good laugh.”
