my youth is yours

Milo Mallory-Hayes. son. brother. burglar. escort. conman. survivor.“Sweetheart, you can't hurt me. Go on, do your worst. I’ve endured things that you never could dream of.”

[esmeraldaknight]

The Egg: Team Two

[anikacormanici-blog]

For all the discussion that the Villiers so loved to indulge in, there was very little to be done about the fact that this entire investigation seemed to be a complete waste of money and time. Anika had been bolstered by the prospect of three birds uncovering just what was needed to crack the complicated code at the center of this little job, but of course, things weren’t working out that way — which left her completely bored with the entire thing. “The Peak didn’t give us much the first time around, hun. I can’t imagine we’ll find much else.”

But where else was there to go? The Peak was Claudia’s stomping grounds, the place where she indulged in her wealth and escaped any sense of responsibility. Anika would have envied such a hideaway, of course, if it hadn’t ended so terribly for the woman. Regardless, Hong Kong was clearly not the center of this mystery, if their coming up empty told them anything. Lucerne was where the egg was stolen, where the Sommers children originated, and where all of this erupted. Of course that was the holy grail as far as secrets were concerned.

Anika pursed her lips, for as unenthused she was by the idea she knew that they had no choice but to keep on digging until they were called back to London. “We can’t just walk into the Peak without getting some questions. They’ll wonder why these new faces keep on poking around. Besides, I’m on a business visa, and we have to look the part, yes?” She whipped her phone out of her purse, quickly dialing the number to the town car service that she’d memorized from the list the hotel had provided them. 

“We’ll drive around for a while and see who we find. At the very worst, we’ll roll up the windows and head off if anyone we approach seems clueless.” A good rule of thumb was to walk away if you were getting more questions than answers — and, well, they’d been getting a hell of a lot of questions. “Plus, once it gets too dark and all the shops have closed, I’m sure we can find some swanky place to dance the night away if we look the part.”

[miloxmh-blog]

He was annoyed, there was no other way to put it. Annoyed that they had wasted days doing nothing but asking questions to people that were as clueless as Claudia had apparently been. And Milo had learned to never speak ill of the death but damn her for not giving a crap about her life, about her husband, about her wealth and about the stupid egg that was nowhere to be found. 

“Dance?” He could feel the headache starting to form in his temples so he took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. As frustrated as he felt about the whole thing, throwing a tantrum was not going to work, snapping at his co-workers wasn’t going to help either. “We are not here on vacations, Anika. If we find nothing, we have to go home. We can’t keep wasting resources that are not ours.” After all, the Villiers wouldn’t be so happy to learn they had paid for them to go all the way to Hong Kong to just come back empty handed. 

“We should do as Esme says, we will look less suspicious if we are walking around than in a car with tainted windows. We are dealing with normal people, they won’t tell us anything if they think we are dangerous and if we stroll around in a car they will think we are up to something.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, tired and trying to think of a plan. “We have a bunch of cards and tickets from the places Claudia used to go. Considering that one of her most frequented ones was a boutique...We should go there first. If we are lucky someone there will give us...Something.” At this point, Milo wasn’t even sure what they were looking for, they were simply stumbling in the dark like fools but it was better than nothing. “Is not that far away from here so let’s get going.”

[miloxmh-blog]

London ✈ Hong Kong

[rosiemallory-hayes-blog]

She scans the crowd surrounding them, watching as they seem to be headed towards the balcony. She smiles sadly at Milo, clutching his hand like a lifeline. “Sometimes I miss it more than I should, I think. I mean, London’s nice, a different kind of home, y’know?” Her sad eyes tell the whole story: Rosie’s been homesick since they boarded the flight at Bush Intercontinental Airport, she’s longed to return home every day since. She knows she can’t, but sometimes she thinks she’s going to wake for a particularly bad dream, and she’ll be 17 again, beautiful and rich and young, able to- She stops herself. Nostalgia is one thing, but sometimes she gets far ahead of herself.  

“It’s all I could ever need, too.” Rosie whispers, as she begins leading Milo towards the balcony. “Want to watch the fireworks with me?” she asks, but it’s not really a question. With the way she’s clutching his hand, she doesn’t know if she could let go at all. Her ruined dress nearly forgotten Rosie tuns in to the countdown that’s happening, on the balcony. It feels bittersweet, but almost like a new beginning. A real one, this time. Rosie think to herself. The fireworks go off, as everyone shouts as fireworks erupt. Rosie raises herself to her tip toes, and plants a kiss on Milo’s cheek, leaving behind her blood-red lipstick smudged on his cheek. 

“Happy New Year.” she says, with a smile. She’ll make it a new beginning, and she’ll fix everything for the both of them. She makes that her New Year’s Resolution.

[miloxmh-blog]

He wants to tell that it will all get better, he wants to tell her that Texas will eventually be a memory and that she’ll get used to their new life, he wants to tell her that the past is not worth dwelling for, he wants to tell her that they don’t have a home in Austin any longer, that is all gone for good. He wants to tell her all this things but he is not cruel, he doesn’t want to lie so he says nothing. Sadness is not always a bad thing, after all. 

Instead he walks with her to the balcony, letting her guide him through the crowd. And he feels like a kid again, with Rosie holding tight to his hand, wanting to look like one of the grown ups but afraid of getting lost in the mess of people, afraid of letting go of her brother. Milo would never let go, he would never let her get lost. 

“Happy New Year.” He smiles at her and realizes that she is no longer a child. She is older now, a young woman instead of a little girl with a pony tail laughing at the colours in the sky. But she is still his little sister and he’ll never let her go, never let her get lost. He hugs her, kisses her temple and he pulls away just as a few members start moving like shadows away from the crows. “The year is starting...Come along.” He holds her hand tightly and off they go to the next heist. 

END

[miloxmh-blog]

Milo Mallory-Hayes + Instagram [ 1/?? ]

[rosiemallory-hayes-blog]

Guilt. At his smile she suddenly felt the guilt that had been plaguing her for weeks, she’d nearly forgotten until he’d looked at her like they were back home, and neither of them had a care in the world. It was easier to pretend at events like these, that they were at some rich politicians party and her father had instructed her to look beautiful and flirt with the sons of congressmen, to get the Mallory-Hayes name out there to an all new generation of future Ivy League graduates. 

“Of course, he’s probably got enough money to buy me ten dresses without even batting an eye. Everyone here does.” She smiles, “The brightest, for us both.” Rosie sighs, audibly, regrets she has showing through the mask of perfect makeup, “Do you ever wish we were back home?” Rosie asks. For some reason, she has to know if Milo feels the same as she does. 

[miloxmh-blog]

“Hmm, yes. We’re surrounded by Europe’s finest.” He agreed, looking around at the smiling crowd and wondered how many of them had actually earned what they owned. How many were just heirs of empires built by their grandparents? How many had deceived and lied to innocent people, taking their money to satisfy their greed? How many of them weren’t just like his father, committing frauds in the name of having wealth? Perhaps it was better not to know. Blissful ignorance, just like before.

“Back home?” The question aches. He has done his best to make this new place feel like home and to know it still isn’t...It’s hard to hear but he can’t blame her. He understands that it’s not the same, it can’t never be the same. “Sometimes.” He answers honestly, taking one of his sister’s hands on his own. “It would be nice to be back in Texas, playing in the pool because it’s obnoxiously hot or hanging out with my friends but...But I have you. And that is all the home I need.”

[miloxmh-blog]

He listened to her story, to her quivering voice, to her horrible tragedy. Milo knew what loss felt like but not at that level, not in that way. Murder, he believed, was the way of the weak willed, the way of the coward and the slow minded, a last resort for the desperate and unintelligent. No treasure was comparable to a human life, no heist was worth the blood of a person, let alone five. As horrid as the late Mr. Sommer sounded, Milo couldn’t find it in himself to approve of his life being taken away. 

And then she worded her threat. I will tell the world who you are. A name was all she had but if Francis Villiers fell, the whole crew would fall with him, the whole heist society would crumble. They were a castle made on pillars of sand and this woman was an unforgiving ocean.

The colour left Milo’s face as he held on tighter to the cold stone beneath his fingers, leaning closer to the edge, eager to see what would happen next. “Just say yes.” He whispered, fear clear in his voice but the master minds fell silent and dread set on the pit of his stomach, a weight pulling him down, making him feel sick. 

They couldn’t deny her what she wanted, not after what she had threatened to do. Milo had fallen from grace once before, he had seen what happened when a name was dragged through the mud, when crimes came to the daylight when they were meant to stay in the shadows. It would be a horrible show to watch, to see them all fall from their pedestals, stripped from their silk gowns and their vaults filled with treasures and gold. “Don’t....” He whispered as the patron was dragged away. Couldn’t they see it? How they were in no place to say no? They were only kidding themselves by weighing their options. 

He wanted to yell at them, even if it was not his place to give an opinion. He was not about to let them ruin everything he had worked for, everything he had sacrificed. He had given up so much to give Rosie the life he deserved. They had promised a future and now...Now they could take it all away if they said no.

“What are they yapping about?” He said, a desperate edge to his tone that was unusual on him, normally always polite and sweet, kind and gentle. “They have to say they’ll do it! They have to agree to her terms!” He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to quiet his voice, push away his uneasiness. “We can’t let her ruin us.”

[esmeraldaknight]

Oh. It’s you. Esme couldn’t help the relief that came over her, how visible it was, smile brighter when she reached out for him. She could see what he was doing. Anyone could. He had never changed, all light without scorching heat, never pushing her too hard, too soon. More than that— Milo never let anyone else try to push her too hard, too soon. She was grateful for him, by her side, now, by her side always,, but her words failed her and instead there was: “Oh. Oh, Happy New Year to you too.” Silence, as she bit her lip and tried to say something else, something better. He deserved a conversation, if she had lured him in and made him walk next to her, away from his sister, from Anika, he had far more friends to accompany him to the Nest.

“Do you — do you have any idea what’s going on? I mean, besides a meeting, of course, I know that’s happening, I just mean, a patron, a new heist, have you heard anything? Whispers?Rumours? It’s all silence,” she sighed, words spilling out of her now, “I don’t know anything. As usual. Maybe no one else does either. That’s a comfort, at least. Oh! Did Ro like her present? Do you know? I know it was late but — I need to stop asking you things, don’t I.” 

A moment of self-awareness: she was still clouded over and cold, even with his heat. Trial by fire had still left her burnt and unfeeling. 

Esme forced a dazzling smile back onto her lips, the same one that greeted him when she turned. It didn’t reach her eyes now, she could feel that. She squinted, trying in vain to make them sparkle like they usually did. Without a mirror, she couldn’t tell if she was convincing him that she was handling her fear, that he was helping her and they would make it through to the Nest together, and her eyes found his, softly pleading with him not to say anything if she had failed. She was biting her lip again, the metallic tang of blood, just for a second, startling her.

[miloxmh-blog]

Her smile was brighter than the diamond he had stolen in the name of the Villiers and it was also far more precious to him that simple rocks. It was genuine and bright, so rare coming from her. Not that Esme didn’t smile, she did and often, it was part of their lives, part of their jobs but there were special kinds of smiles, soft around the edges, making her eyes sparkle like stars. Those smiles Milo didn’t get to see that often but he was grateful for seeing them nevertheless. 

Her words came out of her mouth fast and nervous, too many questions in a row for him to answer but he didn’t interrupt her, he let her speak as much as she wanted to, hoping that maybe that would ease the tension in her shoulders, help her nerves melt away. 

“It’s okay, Esme. Ask me as much as you want, you know I’m happy to answer, although I might not know how.” He said with a light chuckle, a silent promise that around him she didn’t have to worry about acting a certain way. “I’ve heard very little, there’s a rumour about the patron being an elderly rich woman and that it won’t be just the Villiers’ crew participating in the heist so it must be something big. Other than that, I have heard nothing.” He told her. The whispers travelled fast, adrenaline already seeping into everyone’s veins, the thrill of endless possibilities making everyone wonder and make theories, Milo preferred to wait and see rather than engaging in such games. “Oh, she loved it. She was even wearing it tonight, got upset when someone dropped champagne on her dress but she calmed down after a while.” 

She smiled again and this time it wasn’t as bright, it made Milo’s heart ache and wondered once again what could possibly make Esme feel the way she did in certain situations. But he never asked, knowing that it was not for him to know unless she wanted to tell. 

He smiled at her, gentle and sweet. If she was going to fake a smile, he was not going to reproach it. He faked his smiles a lot too. Takes one to know one, as they say. “Why don’t we go find out what the fuss is about?” He asked her then, trying to get her to focus on something else. “I’d like to walk to The Nest with you, if that’s okay." Her permission was important to him, he made sure to always give her the option to say no, always made sure that she knew he would respect her choice. “This little labyrinth is more fun with someone else to talk with while you walk.”

[rosiemallory-hayes-blog]

Milo attempted to mimic Rosie’s tone, and Rosie had to throw her hand up to her face to keep from bursting out into laughter that would attract the attention of the entire room. As much as she’d probably enjoy being the center of attention any other time, now she was feeling awful, and her dress wasn’t perfect, she was no where near fit for the spotlight. She allowed a few giggles to escape, and allowed Milo to lead her away from the crowd and the person who had spilled his champagne on her. 

“He’d better hope so. I will go back and get him to write me a check, don’t think I won’t.” Rosie said with a devilish smirk, throwing a dirty look towards the man over her shoulder. A little dramatic? Sure, but that was how Rosie dealt with things. “Of coruse, Milo!” she says, excitedly, “That’s what New Year’s is for, looking towards the future!” 

[miloxmh-blog]

He made her laugh, he wins. It’ makes him chuckle as well, to see her happy despite the inconvenience. He put out the fire before it could burn completely, knowing well that Zephora wouldn’t appreciate a scene at her party, at her home, even less from one of her little birds. 

“I’m sure you will.” He chuckled again, shaking his head just a little, amused by his sister’s antics, by her so familiar attitude that hadn’t changed despite everything. Thank you. He wanted to say but found himself unable, He would have to explain what for and why, he wasn’t about to explain Rosie how those little things made him feel better about everything, more sure about making the right choices. For his sister’s smile, he would do anything, had done a lot already. It was okay, though. It was all worth it. “And what a bright future it will be, you’ll see.”

[esmeraldaknight]

She was on edge, holding too tight to her hem, lifting it from the floor so she could ascend the stairs without it dragging. The silk was the most beautiful thing she had even worn, so delicate, easily torn under a misplaced heel, and she was surrounded by a swiftly moving group that reminded her of the parade that took place in Dublin tomorrow — today. Every movement against her, next to her, made her inhale, fingers white and shaky even with the fabric between them, and there were a thousand shoulder brushes in a crowd like this. Balls dropped and midnight came and someone was going to ask her what she was doing there, among the thieves, a night bird who could only be disappointing Zephora so out of place, where she did not belong. 

A voice next to her made her turn, wide-eyed, alarmed, waiting for whatever it was they had to say now  — the rational part of her knew it could be a friend, calling to her, or else a stranger, calling to someone else and catching her ear in the process, but she had stiffened anyway, prepared for accusations and suspicion. They were thieves, after all.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?”

[miloxmh-blog]

He moved with the rest of them, like the stream of a river, flowing through the crowd and up towards the staircase, ready to fill the ocean that was the Nest. Milo found it hilarious that the Villiers picked that codename, even more so that many questioned why he was even there, most knowing him only as a call boy, as one of Zephoras nightbirds. 

He laughed to himself, he was a bird, indeed, going to The Nest, didn’t he fit better in there than the rest of them? It was a silly thought, one that he doubted anyone else would find funny but...It brightened his day. It made it easier to ignore the dirty looks he received from certain members of the heist. After all, this society was built upon the thought that men should be the ones in control, a patriarchal ruling. Milo being a call boy was frowned upon. Men were burglars, muscle, drivers. Not escorts. 

But the negative thoughts threatening to fill his mind melted away when he saw her; Esme looked like someone taken out from a fairytale, right there walking up the stairs, like a dream. He smiled, made his way towards her, softly calling her name but she didn’t seem to notice or perhaps she couldn’t locate him in the crowd. 

He waited until he was closer, until he could see the details of her dress, her jewellery shinning against the light, breath taking.

“Just your name.” Milo told her, offering a soft smile, she seemed tense and it made him frown, then he realized...There were too many people, careless and unkind, wanting front seats to the show that was about to start. Milo moved closer, shielding her away from prying eyes, from bumping shoulders, giving her room to breathe, to relax. “Happy New Year, Esme.”

[rosiemallory-hayes-blog]

Rosie was still fuming when Milo finally found her, and continued to look totally angry as he practically dragged her away from the incident. SHe was soaked in alcohol, which was definitely not her favorite smell, and it was going to stain. This was going down in the hisotry books as the worst New Year’s Ever, ever, and nothing Milo could do would help her feel any better about the ruined dress.

“Milo!” she began to scold him, as if they were back home and she was pretending to be the ‘in-charge’ sibling at the family event. As soon as his name left her mouth, she stopped herself, realizing she sounded just like their mother. That wasn’t the kind of person she ever wanted to sound like. She almost laughs, but then remembers she’s supposed to be angry about her ruined dress.

“It’s ruined.” Rosie says, a dejected tone in her voice, as she looks up at her brother.

The dress had been perfect before the drunkard had thrown champagne on it, and Rosie was allowed to mourn a little bit for how great she had looked tonight, now that it was all ruined. She accepted Milo’s handkerchief, carefully dabbing on her dress, trying to soak it all up before it becomes a gigantic stain.

[miloxmh-blog]

“Rosie.”He repeated in that same scolding tone, teasing her in an attempt to make her laugh. He knew all too well that Rosie probably spent hours upon hours looking for the perfect dress, the perfect shoes, the perfect way to style her hair, the perfect earrings...Always waning to look the part, specially in events such as this. To Milo, Rosie could be wearing her favourite pyjamas and she would still look flawless but he doubted she would appreciate that comment, at least not now with her dressed covered in champagne.

“It’s nor ruined, Rosie. I’m sure we can get it cleaned up.” He told her in a soft tone. Beverage spillage was something to be expected at parties such as this, accidents happened in crowded places or people had a bit too much of said beverages, Milo was only sorry that the first victim was his sister. “It’ll be okay, love. It’s part of the whole experience, I suppose.” He said with a little chuckle, kissing his sister’s forehead. “Don’t let this ruin your whole night. We have to receive the New Year with a smile, yes?”

[miloxmh-blog]

sorry this is literally so weird but i'm someone who creeps on TAT without ever gaining courage to apply sorry okay this is so weird but how on earth did you get your theme to take off that annoying black bar below the picture?? like yours only has it on the side how did you do that??

First of all, I think I can say from everyone that we are all flattered that someone creeps over the stuff that happens here at TAT! Secondly, my dear, no need to be afraid. Like, I was so intimidated about applying but I took a leap of faith and here I am, part of this amazing rp full of lovely people and amazing writers. So I do encourage you to try and apply. And lastly....I have no idea?? I didn’t mess much with the theme’s code. Maybe is just the size of the image you are using that makes that bar appear? Sorry for being unhelpful but...It just appeared like that to me.

[rosiemallory-hayes-blog]

New Year’s Eve was practically Rosie’s favorite holiday, she loved the glitz and glamour and watching different cities drop different random items as their countdown to midnight. She was glad she was invited to the party, as she’d found a dress at a boutique that she had no real use for until now. A grin on her face, she was surveying the crowd, scouting out with person she was going to kiss at midnight. 

The wicked smirk that resided on her face was as much an accessory of the night as the beautiful ruby necklace that Milo and Evie had given her years ago. It matched her dress perfectly, which was part of the reason for her purchase in the first place 

She spotted someone who caught her eye, across the room, and decided quickly to move across to speak with them. Along the way, she managed to pick up a champagne and make it over to the opposite side of the room. That’s when disaster struck, as Rosie was left covered in her own champagne after someone ran right into her. She was soaked and very close to tears when she looked up. 

“What the hell was that?” she half shrieks, her Texan accent spiking. 

[miloxmh-blog]

He spotted her with ease, not even in a crowded room could he ever miss the petite girl with her cherry blond hair that was his sister. It made him smile to see her there, dressed to the nines like the old days, looking as happy as ever. Milo always felt kind of nostalgic when New Year’s Eve came by but Rosie...Rosie was always cheerful, eager to greet a new year with a smile and, in turn, Milo couldn’t help but get infected by his sister’s enthusiasm. 

He walked towards her, moving around the room like a fish on the ocean, avoiding certain individuals that he was sure would want his attention, wanting more than anything to just be with his sister, even if just for a little while, enjoy her company like before, talking about who would they kiss and midnight and listing the things they had liked the most about the year that was ending. 

He heard it before he was there, the unmistakable sound of his sister’s upset voice, making him move faster, getting to her right before she could get angry at whoever had spoiled her night. 

“An accident, I’m sure.” Milo said, grabbing Rosie’s arm, looking at the individual that had crashed against the girl with a soft smile decorating his lips. “Nothing that can be fixed...” He took out a handkerchief, handed it to his sister so she could dry the champagne from her dress. “I’m sure the gentleman is very sorry, Rosie. But it’s all good, isn’t it? I’ll get you a fresh glass and we’ll figure out how to dry your dress in no time.”

[omarsawiris-deactivated20160617]

Omar nodded carefully, eyes still on the crowd in front of him. He had to agree: this was all very Villiers-like, certainly different from any other party that could be thrown. When he heard familiar Spanish tongue being spoken, it wasn’t dissimilar to a kick to the stomach, all but knocking the wind out of him. That very phrase - ‘close with a flourish’, ‘out with a bang’, it was translated in different manners - was one which Rodrigo swore was a dear motto to him, one he certainly live by - and one he “died” by, the moment that car tipped over the cliff. Omar could feel a physical knot grow in his throat, forcing himself to swallow the lump and maintain his composure.

He had to admit, he was mildly surprised by Milo’s response (although he wouldn’t allow himself to physicalize it, certain that too strong a reaction would illicit a response from the other boy, and it would all end in painfully familiar disaster), as most of the Society members in attendance were either clearly faking a smile, virtually unreadable, or looked as though they wanted to kill someone - most not thrilled to be at the affair before the true event. Still, he couldn’t be entirely shocked - with the other boy’s outwardly cheerful nature, he likely enjoyed the mingling crowd, the beautiful, smiling faces of prominent guests. Perhaps, in an alternate world where Milo didn’t fit every criteria to trick him, to attack him, they would get along quite well. 

Did he hold a subconscious fascination for the boy with the deep smile and charm to the brim, how he developed into this life? Perhaps, but he could never attempt a conversation - or, god forbid, a friendship. He was far too certain this was all still an elaborate trick, one which Omar had fallen for far too many times in the past. He had sworn to himself, to every power within him, that he would try everything he was capable of to be less naive - especially now that there was someone relying on him on the deepest level to be strong for her.

His head tipped towards Milo as the older man questioned him, but he didn’t directly look at him. His eyes were fastened on the tiles below their feet, in thought for a moment, calculating a response. Despite his clear reservations and worries, he was never one to be malevolent, even in the case of an outright attack. He was unable to be bluntly rude even if he wished - which wasn’t even truly something that ever crossed his mind. He decided on an answer which danced around the question, trying his best to distance himself from striking up a potentially dangerous conversation. “Zephora and Francis did a wonderful job. They always do.” He spoke deliberately, ensuring he didn’t sound too interested. However, something told him to finally turn his eyes to Milo - and when he did, he was met such a sweet smile that he automatically reacted, a knee-jerk reaction to meet kindness with kindness, and replied more truthfully. His voice was soft, friendly. “I suppose I’m just thinking more about what’s going to happen tonight.” 

He regretted his words immediately; he had sworn to himself he wouldn’t give anything for Milo to really have a response to, but he couldn’t help it as a small, reserved smile wiped across his face as a polite response to a polite gesture. It was his nature to be gentle, to be kind, no matter how much he tried otherwise. It was his biggest downfall, the reason he had these troubles with trust in the first place, the reason he couldn’t just walk away from an approach - although, to be fair, in this case, he had technically been the one who spoke first.

[miloxmh-blog]

It would be fair to say that, the main reason for Milo’s interest in Omar, had been the fact that he was best friends with Esmeralda, the girl with the beautiful smile and the musical laughter that had interested Milo since the first time he met her. (And unlike popular believe it wasn’t her beauty what captivated him but her eyes, so lost and wary, her way of moving, with careful steps, the way she hid behind her hair. Esmeralda was a beautiful mystery, an enigma that made Milo feel...Just feel. Alive and real). 

However, it was also fair to say that this was not the only reason. While Omar had first caught his eye when he saw Esme holding to his arm as if he was a lifeline, it was the next interactions with the boy that made him want to get closer. Omar, despite his shielded nature, was always kind and sweet. He had seen him around Esme, the softness in his eyes and the protectiveness of his gestures. He was a man different from the ones he had met so far, with soft edges rather than harsh ones, a picture painted in soft pastel colours rather than harsh ones.  In a world filled with people with lies in the tip of their tongues and venom always at ready, Omar was kind and Milo simply felt drawn to it like a moth to the light. 

“You and everyone else...” Milo replied, eyes back on the crowd. The unsuspecting people, enjoying a night of good fun with their so called friends, using the excuse to show off their best dresses, their mink coats, their golden clocks, their diamond rings, the pearl necklaces. Milo almost felt bad for them. Almost but not quite. “But I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. The night is young and the Villiers can be very patient. Things have to go according to the plan, after all.”

[omarsawiris-deactivated20160617]

Omar bit his tongue slightly when he realized who he had carelessly spoken the words to. His relationships with people were a bit complicated - although always civil and kind, he had different trust tiers. At the bottom of that pillar - boys, men his own age. It stemmed from the simplicity of an ostracized youth brought on by ridicule and estrangement, but never quite left him. On the whole, the answer was simple: he would avoid them as much as possible (in this circle, besides on heists, this was quite an easy feat - most of the young men were brooding, dark souls who enjoyed solitude and silence, leaving no hole to be filled in his absence) and, when he was required to converse with them, he would only speak when approached and always in a short, compliant manner. 

However, things weren’t so simple when it came to Milo. Having some sort of… something with Esme - whether it was infatuation, fascination, or something less pleasant, Omar wasn’t sure - the young man had often tried to approach Omar, extending a kind hand, which was automatically a red flag. He had always seemed pleasant in their interactions, true, but Omar was never so quick to trust the demographic that the boy so easily fit - handsome, charming, likeable - there wasn’t any reason that Milo wouldn’t be playing some joke, with an endgame which would be undoubtedly familiarly brutal for the slightly younger man. 

Omar finally turned his gaze to Milo’s grinning face, gripping his drink slightly tighter as his form stiffened, before letting out a small, hesitant smile in return. He may have been cautious - suspicious, even - but Omar could never be called inhospitable. “It is all very beautiful,” he forced out politely, glancing around the room. He cleared his throat, attempting to address the boy a bit more directly, otherwise risking looking suspicious. “And are you enjoying it? The champagne, the party?”

[miloxmh-blog]

There is was again, Milo realized, the inevitable tension between them, linger between them, invisible but still very much real. Perhaps Omar hadn’t realized that it was him and Milo could only congratulate his skills at blending in, at making himself look like another part of the puzzle in the big party, surrounded  by the wealthy and important, as if he had never been kicked out from their select club. But it was all a well structured lie, a game of pretend. Milo was not a part of them, he was not an equal and yet, he was hardly beneath them. He was simply something else entirely, trapped between heaven and disaster. 

“Very Villiers.” He decided to play along, continue with the play, pretending that he hadn’t noticed the tension that appeared in Omar’s body as soon as he noticed it was him he was speaking with. “It’s the end of the year after all. There is an expression...Cerrar con broche de oro.” He said with a smile, drinking from his glass, his eyes on the people around them rather than on the other boy. “Hmm...In a way, yes I am.” He decided to say. He liked the idea of it all, made him feel nostalgic, remembering the parties that his own father used to throw for all the members of the government and influential people with fat wallets. They were not nearly as extravagant or exquisite but that vibe of elegant joy was still there. In the music and the chatter and the bubbles of the champagne. 

But they also made him ache, the memories of his past, of his so called friends...It made his heart break a little, despite his attempts to shield himself from the memories because they were not worth getting upset over. And it also made him anxious, to wonder what would happen as time ticked by, who would request his presence and his lips when the clocked stroke midnight. Some people just had to work on the holidays. “What about you, Omar?” He asked, turning his gaze towards the boy, offering a genuinely sweet smile. Hoping that the boy would feel comfortable around him. “ARe you happy to spend the last hours of the years here?” Amongst thieves, liars and old money?

[omarsawiris-deactivated20160617]

Omar was never a stranger to it all - elaborate affairs which called upon silk gowns, luminescent pearls, and suits pressed to the finest detail. He had been attending since he was a boy - his father ensuring that the help styled his gelled hair just so, kept his dark little suits seamless. He had attended countless parties in his home country, all throughout Africa and beyond - Asia, Europe, the Americas. His wide eyes had scoped it all before the age of sixteen, standing uncomfortably tall and keeping as much emotion off his face as possible - but that was then. He was still growing into finding himself at these events, no longer simply an extension of the powerful Sawiris family. He was still finding himself observing examples of, perhaps, how he should behave as a part of a new clan, one far more… lawless. And, he had to admit: Europeans always entertained in a far different way than the rest of the world.

Pleasant chattering filled the ballroom, each excited voice melding into the other as they all culminated into a booming, echoing hum. As he always did, he took in each figure individually - the dresses and jewels in particular had always attracted him, their beauty glinting brilliantly in the glow of the chandeliers. He stood hugging the wall, his eyes simply scanning, his natural, resting benevolent gaze etched on his features - he was likely one of the least likely of the crews’ members to be suspected of anything unlawful by an outside eye, gentleness and supposed innocence radiating off him. 

He had just wrapped up a short, succinct encounter with one of his mother’s old friends, who happened to be in attendance - the wife of a powerful politician. Initially, he had been worried that woes and certain issues would be addressed, brushing upon the calls of his father which he continuously left all but unanswered. Instead, she wore that rehearsed smile with expertise, and simply wished him best of luck on his travels - and how lucky he was to have a father that supported him on his journey, who stood behind him as he “liaised with some of the best companies in the world”. Perhaps Omar should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. His father could concoct a story about anything. 

He was pulled from his gaze by a figure beside him, similarly unmoving, and he took a small sip from his relatively untouched glass of red. It was clear, even without looking, that they shared a certain goal tonight. It was an air which Society members tended to share, only noticed by its members - the outside world never quite noticed. “Quite a party tonight.” His English was fluent and undisturbed, a result of teachings from the mere age of three. Still, it was drenched in his drawling Egyptian accent, immediately discernible from the English, Italian and Russian conversations looming around him. A small smile lingered on his lips, a welcome invitation for approach, and his voice held its normal soft tone, etching into small talk. “Everyone seems to be having a wonderful time.”

[miloxmh-blog]

This wasn’t a place he wanted to be, rather than one he was expected to be. It reminded him so much of his time in Texas, of the live that he had once lived, with his mother urging him to dress to impress, smile for the camera, dad has some people he needs to show off his perfect little family, in his perfect big house. His son dressed in suit and tie, his daughter like an innocent angel with perfect curls, his wife in a delicate dress acting as the perfect hostess, laughing at bad jokes of old men with their own trophy wives standing beside them, all forced smiles and fake friendship.

This time, however, he was not there to play the part of son, he was not there to impress for his family name, he was not there to smile for pictures and greet politicians’ wives that wanted to present him their daughters. He was here to, simply said, look pretty. Another decoration to add to the opulence of the party, dressed in a dark blue suit, ready for whoever needed him, whoever wanted him. He was there for the same reason than the people holding trays with glasses of champagne walking around the halls of the mansion were there for: please the guests. The only difference was that he could snatch their money, their golden clocks and diamond earrings or pearl necklaces and he would be congratulated for it.

This was was going to be a long night and if he intended to make it though it with a smile on his lips while woman discreetly touched him while leaning into his ear, making promise a midnight kiss...He was going to need a drink. Or several, for the matter.With quick hands, he stole a champagne glass from a tray, making his way towards a spot in the room where he could watch and not be watched. A break from the hungry gazes, even if just for a little while, then he would go back to being seen, admired, touched. 

A familiar voice then reached his ears and he looked towards the man that had just spoken to him, mildly surprised that Omar was starting a conversation with him. But then again, it was a party and small talk between guests was bound to happen, even when Omar usually kept his distance, perhaps it was his chance to try and bond with the other man. “Yes. The Villiers do like to impress.” He commented, eyes going back to the people filling the room, their elegant clothes and expensive jewellery. If they only knew they were dancing amongst thieves. “Champagne and holidays can do that to people.” He chuckled, taking a sip of his own drink. “Specially champagne that is worth as much as a small house.”