to live & to live & to live;

multimuse blog for willow peak. penned by em. current muses: jaewon song, antoinette "nettie" parker

[pcstlives]

muse directory;

antoinette parker (assistant & student, 31) | introduction, interactions

jaewon song (owner of morning glory, 42) | introduction, interactions

[mosespersaud]

"A pipe cleaner mutiny? What is the world coming to?" He asked, his tone light. "We definitely can't have that."

She was slightly less business and a little sweeter as she introduced herself. "It's no trouble, really. Sports are weathered out, so I wasn't sure how I was going to fill my time today. Moses Persaud. Nice to meet you, Antoinette."

[pcstlives]

"A glitter insurrection," she suggested. "It would take a week and a half to fully get it out of our hair." Honestly, as much as she loved those little bastards, she couldn't put it past them

"Likewise. Oh yeah." There weren't that many volunteers today, and when Nettie took a moment to place Moses' face, she easily came up with the chain-link fence out back and fresh orange slices. "You're, um, baseball, right? Lifelong passion?"

[impvrities]

WHO:  romy  &  jaewon @pcstlives WHERE:  morning  glory STATUS:  closed

the  frequency  of  which  romy  ends  up  stopping  by  morning  glory  in  any  given  week  is  startlingly  embarrassing.  made  worse  by  the  fact  of  knowing  that  if  he  can  recognize  the  owner,  then  the  owner  certainly  recognizes  him.  there’s  something  deeply  humbling  about  having  your  order  remembered  at  a  coffee  shop  because  you’re  that  stuck  on  a  routine.  or  a  coffee  order.  listen  …  romy  likes  what  he  likes  and  if  morning  glory  has  a  great  roast  that  only  requires  a  splash  of  half  and  half  in  his  coffee  then  so  be  it.  doesn’t  matter  if  he  already  stopped  this  morning  on  his  way  to  the  university  and  he’s  back  after  his  afternoon  lecture  in  search  of  a  quiet  spot  to  grade  some  assignments.  he’s  dumped  his  briefcase  at  one  of  the  empty  tables,  making  a  beeline  for  the  line  and  offering  a  sheepish  close-lipped  smile  to  jaewon  as  he  approaches.  “technically  this  is  number  three  for  the  day,  but  i  don’t  count  the  faculty  room  keurig.  unsurprisingly  stale,”  romy  offers  in  lieu  of  a  greeting  once  he’s  stood  in  front  of  where  to  order.  “medium  dark  roast  with  room  for  creamer,  please.”

[pcstlives]

Romy was a regular at Morning Glory — Jae knew his face, knew his name, and knew his regular orders. He didn't pass judgment on people's caffeine intake, mostly. Everyone had their vices. He himself had went in for a sixth cup from time to time, immediately to be followed by a swallow of Pepto Bismol. "What's tuition at UChicago up to, now? 70k?" he asked. He started in on brewing the coffee, precise to Romy's specifications. "They can at least afford a Moka Pot." Without being asked, he popped a sweet fougasse in the warmer, too. Something to soak up that third coffee, and to hopefully soothe the pains inflicted by stale Keurig coffee. As a former government lawyer, Jae was, unfortunately, well acquainted with the stuff.

[pastghcsts]

Everett blinks blankly at Jae’s quip about the dubstep thing. Funny, objectively, but it takes a lot for Everett to crack a smile at anything. “The alphabet,” he replies dryly. “She’s five.” Though he’s sure once she gets older he’ll be muttering complaints about what they’re teaching, and how underfunded public schools are nowadays. He’s been trying to get Evangeline to let him send her to a private school, but she’s refused — says public schools are just as good as private schools, and she’s not raising a snob. 

The fuck is all the money he inherited good for, then? 

He takes the cookies gingerly from where Jae slides them across the counter — already knowing he’s going to have to drop a big bill inside the tip jar to mitigate the lack of charge. Everett has the money to pay for things — he’s going to pay for things. Especially when they’re for Lily, and especially when they’re purchased from small businesses. “Your blackest coffee,” he replies swiftly, pulling out a twenty from his wallet and dropping it into the tip jar. “And if you’ve still got any croissants left, I’ll take one of those, too.”

[pcstlives]

"She already knows the alphabet," he pointed out. "Two alphabets," he signed, just for good measure. It sucked a bit that there weren't that many elementary schools in Chicago with DHH programs. She'd have a better suite of options in high school, but, well. Like Everett had said, she was five.

Of course, there were a lot of different kinds of black coffee they were brewing at Morning Glory at any given time, but Jae didn't ask the follow up he might pose to someone else. Instead, after a moment's thought, he reached for the brand they sourced from Michigan. It came in whole beans, but had been freshly ground that morning. It had an extremely well-balanced flavor profile, with subtle notes of caramel and nuttiness, the kind of blend that favored people who just liked the taste of espresso. "We have croissants," he confirmed. "We're out of the ones dusted with the heart-shaped sprinkles, though. Are you really disappointed?"

[james-holbrook-deactivated20260]

"Still though-" Elliot signed before he let his hands fall back down to his sides, knowing himself well enough to know that he would think of someway to repay his friend for watching Sawyer for him. Even if it was simply taking him out for drinks one night when the two of them weren't busy. Easily falling into step behind his friend as he toed his shoes off, the familiarity of Jae's place a sort of comfort.

Giving a small laugh as Jae suggested both coffee and a drink. "Trust me, if I didn't have to take care of a baby once I got back home, I would take you up on that drink." The stress of his shift, though much shorter than normal, rested on his shoulders some, hoping that he would be able to shake it with his friend's company. It was something he never wanted to carry over over to home life. "A coffee would be great if you don't mind-" Ignoring the fact he already had several while working, hell, not like one more would do any harm.

"Good, I'm glad." He signed back with a smile on his face, Sawyer was a pretty easy going baby and was glad o see that she gave no trouble to Jae. "I was a bit worried, she's been fussy a lot during the last few nights, which isn't like her. I think we might be entering that fun teething stage everyone has been warning me about." A huff of laughter falling from his lips, not that Elliot minded. No, as unprepared as he was most of the time with this whole parenting stage, he was more than ready to face whatever came next when it came to raising Sawyer.

[pcstlives]

Jae shook his head with a small, wry smile. It was true what they said, parenting was a full-time job. "I'm making it decaf," he signed. "For your sake." He really should keep it simple, but, as he heats up the milk, he can't help but drop a cinnamon stick and a sliver of piloncillo into the cup. Of all the people in Jae's life, Elliot seemed to work the hardest, to be the most deserving of a little decadence.

The coffee, a bit left in the pot from Jae's personal favorite brew, is strong, black, the kind he could taste the earthy, sweet notes of on the back of his tongue. He tossed out the cinnamon stick, combined the coffee with the cinnamon and sugar-infused milk, and slid the mug to Elliot. "I don't know anything about the developmental stages of babies. Is teething when you chew on stuff?" He winced slightly. "Hopefully it's over quickly."

[simonbloom]

It wasn't something Simon had ever considered, obviously, because even when it came to his book store, the ethical source of things that were second-hand was wildly different than sourcing ingredients. Especially ingredients that had to be high enough quality to be part of someone's food. He had never considered owning a coffee shop, but now he easily dismissed it with just a few comments. He would leave it to the professionals. And he wouldn't complain about paying eight dollars for a latte if that's what it cost, but he was glad it didn't. A lifestyle was only easy to fund on an irregular income like his if you didn't spend money like tomorrow would never come, even if it seemed right now his income would remain ample. He wasn't guaranteed future success. Still, there was fortune in being able to think of it that way instead of from the other side -- where he was pinching pennies and struggling in a unforgiving economy.

"I think there's something to them staying a little rare, though. I haven't had them for years because I haven't been back to Morocco for a long time. That's what makes them special now. If I had them all the time... eh."

He tucked his hands into his back pockets while he waited, content to stay standing and keep chatting lightly even as the light filtering in through the windows was starting to take on a more 'the day is waking' hue.

"It's not the most subtle of metaphors, is it?" He replied, his grin small. "I guess the limitation is mine for not thinking of them as one. Cherries, maybe? In, like, middle school when we were debating who could knot a stem with their tongue? But I've never considered strawberries. Maybe I'll think about it when they're in season."

[pcstlives]

Everything in Morning Glory - from the coffee beans to the C-folds to the soap in the bathroom dispensers - was ethically sourced. As a proponent of some vague anti-capitalist sentiments and a small business owner, Jae was very cognizant of the economies he was participating in - both locally and globally. If it meant the dates were a rare occurrence on the menu, then he didn't think much of it. He supposed he should be more grateful, that it was inadvertently giving Morning Glory some kind of mystique.

"Mm." He tipped two shots of Morocco into the cup, a dash of roasted walnut oil and the rose water. "Why were you in Morocco?"

Though he was distantly familiar with the whole cherry stem thing from various pop culture sources, he had never directly participated in those discussions in school, always lingering too far on the edges of those sorts of interactions. "A little later into spring, we do a strawberry rhubarb danish that's pretty good." He shrugged, drizzling in a moderate amount of King Syrup. He whisked the drink, nearly finished with preparation. "Not sure if you're a pastry guy."

[rainoban]

Amara chuckled softly, running a hand through her hair. "I know, right? It’s one of those situations where we’re all just kind of waiting for Dad to wake up and see what’s going on. He's so caught up in trying to keep the peace that he doesn’t realize he's just enabling her. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before we get through to him, though. We all know it's coming, and we’ll be there when it does." She shook her head, the weight of it still hanging in the air. Despite all the madness, the brunette knew that she and her brothers had the strength to push through. She glanced over at the folder, and her attention immediately turned back to Nettie, who’d already nailed the upcoming schedule. She smiled warmly, proud of how well they worked together. "You really do keep this all running like clockwork. I swear, without you, I’d probably still be scrambling through a mountain of sticky notes by now."

Her focus shifted briefly to the next task at hand. "Everything looks perfect. You’ve covered everything. Do you need me to send over anything else for now, or are we good?" Amara asked, genuinely curious. And then, as she leaned back slightly in her chair, her smile returned with a suggestion that felt long overdue. "Also, since we’ve both been working like crazy, how about we take a break tomorrow? Maybe a trip to the spa? I think we deserve it, don’t you?"

[pcstlives]

Nettie nodded; in some ways, it all sounded a bit familiar. Amara's father was lucky to have such a gracious daughter, one clearly willing to forgive him for how long it was taking him to come to his senses. It was one thing to be blinded by love -- or what passed for love, in this day and age — but it was another when it affected your children to this degree. "It's hard to see that kind of thing when you're so close to it," she shrugged, shaking her head slightly. "Especially if you're a dad. My dad's hopeless about that kind of thing, he can't see a red flag to save his life. Honestly, I'm lucky that he was too busy to date when we were younger."

She couldn't help but preen at the praise. She worked pretty hard to be as on top of it as she was, as Amara deserved, but it was all worth it for the acknowledgment and satisfaction of a job well done. "We're all good," she confirmed. This was by design, she had wanted Amara to feel free to focus on the day's meetings, not having to work between them. At the mention of a spa day, though, she visibly brightened. "Oh my gosh, a spa afternoon is soooo needed. Let me call around and see who has an opening tomorrow. Are we thinking facial, manicure, massage, something else...?"

[james-holbrook-deactivated20260]

Elliot gratefully made his way into Jae's place, more than glad to be out of the cold. Pretty sure the temperature was dropping way too quickly for his liking. He was done with the cold and snow, ready for spring and summer to settle into the city. "Hey-" He signed back with a smile, though clear exhaustion was written across his features as he undid the scarf from around his neck some. "Perfect, thank you. I owe you big time for watching her for me." Already thinking of ways he could repay his friend for watching Sawyer for him.

When asked about work, Elliot couldn't help but make a slight face. "Even though it was shorter than my normal shifts, I swear, it was just as exhausting. Feels like I just pulled twelve hours and not only five." He admitted with a laugh. The ER had been non stop, between the waiting room full of people and others getting rushed there for one reason or another, Elliot had barely had time to breathe. And beyond glad that today was not his turn to work an overnight, he could only imagine how it would go with how busy it had been during the day.

"How was she? No trouble I hope?" Knowing that she had been a bit fussy the last few days, something that Elliot had been trying to figure out what was causing it. But that morning when she had been laughing, he saw a little white tooth starting to poke through her bottom gums, a sure sign as to why she had been fussy- something she never was. Hoping that Sawyer has at least been in a good mood for Jae.

[pcstlives]

Jae shook his head, waving off the apology with a slight dismissive gesture. "You owe me nothing," he signed. "I had no plans tonight anyway." Turning back around, he led Elliot through the house. This wasn't the first time Elliot had been to Jae's place, and it was, truthfully, rare that anything changed around there. He owned a quintessential bachelor pad; sparsely decorated, clean, functional, and capable of being baby-proofed in under an hour when necessary.

Listening to Elliot's debrief of his shift, he leaned against the edge of his kitchen counter, shaking his head slightly. Elliot worked so hard; truly, Jae didn't know how he handled it all on top of being a single father. "Coffee? Drink?" He paused, glancing briefly behind him at his cabinet. "Both?"

In response to Elliot's question, Jae signed a quick, decisive, "she was perfect." There really wasn't much to report, but Jae provided a brief rundown anyway. "We played for a bit, read for a bit. Had dinner."

[mosespersaud]

It was such a bummer when outside was rainy or windy or generally too weathery for sports on the afternoons Moses spent at the Boys and Girls Club. It actually left him at a bit of a loss, because he and his sister had definitely been 'turn off this song and go outside' kind of people, even as kids. Sure, it had the added bonus of getting them out of the unique kind of stress created by tight funds and tense parents, but he thought even without that they both would've been more out than in.

How that related to the present, when he didn't have any children of his own, was in his volunteer time. The kids were wild, overrun with energy, and he couldn't do something as basic as make them run until they dropped. The crafts another volunteer had set up were foreign to him and looked like something one might find in the third circle of hell. It was a blatant relief when he was asked to lift things rather than supervise gluing. "Hi. I'm both those things," he agreed with a smile, not pointing out he had a shoulder that worked more or less. With the current weather, it was leaning a little toward less, an extra ache carried in the joint on days like today. He was pretty sure he could still lift a box of craft supplies, though. What was it, like, paper and pipe cleaners? How heavy could it be. "You might have to point me toward that closet and what box you want, though. Oh, and where you want it."

[pcstlives]

Nettie beamed at the confirmation he would help, motioning to her recently installed Craft Supervisor (Miss Helen) that they'd be back in five or ten minutes. "Rest assured, I will provide very clear and specific instructions." With a brusque and purposeful stride, she started in the direction of the supply closets, the noise of the rec center fading as they moved. "I just wanna make sure they have enough supplies to last until pick up. If there's a shortage of pipe cleaners, we might have a mutiny on our hands."

The other option was a fun movie, but honestly, they didn't have a big enough TV screen for all the kids to sit around at the same time. She filed it away as a backup, maybe they could use some staff laptops and devices to make up the deficit.

Realizing she hadn't introduced herself, a half-apologetic, half-grateful smile took shape on her lips. "Thank you for helping." It was generous; a quality she'd found that surprisingly fluctuated quite a bit, between volunteers. "I don't think we've met. Antoinette Parker."

[rainoban]

The whole situation was a headache for everyone involved —especially since their grown twenty-seven-year-old stepmother seemed to take genuine pleasure in stirring up conflict. It was like she had made it her personal mission to test just how far she could push Amara’s brothers before they snapped, finding new and creative ways to be insufferable. And while Amara was always the one trying to keep some semblance of peace, trying to strike a balance so that her brothers didn’t feel constantly at war in their own home, it wasn’t exactly easy from so many miles away. If she were there, she could shut it down in an instant, could put their so-called stepmother in her place with one well-timed look. Not that distance had ever stopped her —Amara had no problem picking up the phone and putting her in check when necessary. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. But before she could even deal with her, she had to make sure her brothers were okay first. They mattered more.

Always.

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. “Oh, heinous barely covers it,” she said, voice rich with dry amusement. “You know how she is—she weaponizes tradition. It’s a talent, really. This time, it was all about how my brothers owe her their presence at some event next month, never mind that they both have their own lives and are freaking older than her. And when they pushed back?” She let out a huff. “Suddenly, they’re ungrateful, disrespectful, and cruel for not prioritizing family. And of course, she had to cry to our father about it."

Amara reached out, gently taking Nettie’s hand to inspect the festive Valentine’s acrylics, turning it slightly to admire the glossy finish. “Cute,” she noted with a small smile, giving Nettie’s fingers a light squeeze before letting go. “It’s okay,” she added, waving off the concern with an easy shrug. “Things need to get done one way or another. I’ll just sleep a little more over the weekend and pretend I have my life together.” She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head before dropping them with a decisive nod. “Enough about me, though. How are you doing? Anyone I need to fight? Any customers get on your nerves today? Give me the rundown.”

[pcstlives]

As tumultuous as her family life was at certain points, Nettie truly couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a stepmother that was younger than her or her siblings. And a scheming, intolerant one, at that. "That is... honestly, such a mess of family dynamics, you and your brothers are so strong for navigating it on the daily." She shook her head, in constant admiration of Amara's ability to juggle and compartmentalize. "Sleeping a little more over the weekend sounds really good. And, just saying, you have time for a massage at the end of the month and you still have that voucher you got from corporate."

After flushing a little and dispensing a quick thanks at the compliment to her manicure, she reached immediately for the rundown she'd prepared of Amara's afternoon and the impending weekend. "You know, I'm knocking on wood, but it's been smooth sailing so far today." She rapped her knuckles on the desk, handing the folder over to Amara for her approval. "I think we nailed scheduling and timelining the Valentine's rush, I'm already starting to convert some of our planning documents into protocols we can use in the future."

[simonbloom]

Simon carefully considered the two options provided, which would be the correct choice aesthetically to fuel his creativity this morning. Sometimes, he did have a sweet tooth, but brief debate proved that wasn't the case today. "Baklava mocha sounds interesting and wonderful," he agreed after a moment. "I think sweet isn't quite what I'm after this time. But medjool dates aren't something I hear mentioned often here. Do you always have those available?"

He'd tried them exactly once, on a sailing trip that involved some time in Morocco. He most likely would've called them an unexpected treat in the present, because it had been so long.

He was prepared to enjoy at least the first cup of coffee as he would a nice wine, specially once fragrance was mentioned. Afterward, he could go for something black or strong for the 'no distractions' phase of this process.

"Thank you for finding me something that isn't strawberry infused. Do you have an idea where the tradition of out of season fruit and chocolate started for Valentines Day? It's just so... prolific."

[pcstlives]

"Baklava mocha it is." The ingredients were actually fairly easy to assemble. He lined up the oils and the syrups, starting to brew the dark roast he usually paired with. In response to the date inquiry, Jae shook his head with a very slight, rueful smile. "No. They're expensive to source ethically, so they usually only make an appearance on the occasional specials menu." It had to be during times where he had a little surplus, as well, because he refused to charge people eight dollars for a latte, even if that was the particular cost needed to keep operations running.

He snorted softly at the the thanks; even Morning Glory had a pretty strawberry-forward Valentine's menu. Still, Jae thought he'd managed to incorporate them in a tasteful way, even if he was pandering a bit to the twenty-somethings who made up his primary customer base. "I think it's largely an aesthetic thing. Strawberries are red and shaped like hearts. Some people think they're an aphrodisiac."

[twoweeks]

https://www.instagram.com/p/C4Ub0M5LVfN/

[pastghcsts]

Everett doesn’t consider himself lucky, most days. Considering the trajectory his life has taken recently, it’s hard to call anything that happens to him good luck. Meeting Jae, however, feels a little like luck. Lily likes him, sure, she tends to light up around anyone who can speak her language — and that’s a plus. But more than anything, Everett’s happy to have found out Jae owns a coffee shop. It’s been getting harder and harder to find a coffee shop around the neighborhood that doesn’t also double as a social gathering, where people seem to expect complete strangers to engage in conversation with them.

Morning Glory has the same aura about it that Jae does. A mind-your-own-business kind of aura. He’s happy he’s able to get coffee he doesn’t have to make without also having to worry about strangers trying to take a seat anywhere near him, or with him, in an attempt to get friendly. He doesn’t know what, exactly, about his demeanor ever gives off yes, please, talk to me, but he’s starting to think he needs to get a little better at looking unapproachable. 

Jae’s already drawing something on a pastry bag for Lily — there’s an unwelcome sort of twitch upwards to the corner of Everett’s lips as he busies himself with it before asking for Everett’s order. Something like this would annoy the living hell out of him, were it anywhere else — as it stands, he’d do anything for Lily first. Can’t exactly blame someone else for doing the same thing. “She’s got school,” he points out, voice a little monotonous, eyebrow raised in an incredulous arch. Not that that would stop him, usually, but god knows Evangeline’s chewed him out enough times about picking her up early without asking her. So he’s on his own today. He waves off Jae’s question about making him something. “Pack the cookies up for her first. I can wait.” Three words that rarely come out of his mouth.

[pcstlives]

Right, right, it was, in fact, the middle of the week. "Fuckin' school," he muttered, even though he'd been a proper nerd, back in the day. It was hard not to be enthusiastic about English class when the alternative was his childhood house of horrors. Still, he found himself momentarily irritated with the institution as a whole. "What are they teaching these days, history of dubstep?" Though this was undoubtedly the sort of cultural reference one of his younger employees would call him 'cheugy' for, it accurately reflected the little faith Jae had in Willow Peak's yuppie-dominated school district.

He signed the little drawing your friend Jae, and sealed the bag with one of the custom-ordered Valentine's stickers he had only ordered under extreme duress. He slid them across the counter with no intention to charge, even though Everett could almost certainly afford it. "There," he said decisively. Hopefully, the next time they crossed paths, Lily would give him her honest review on both the art and his selections. "What can I get you? Assuming you have no interest in me reading off our syrupy, pun-forward specials menu."

[blotchedpaper]

Santiago chuckled, a low rumble that started deep in his chest, the sound of it spreading across his face like a slow burn. The mention of extorting him hit a sweet spot, and he leaned back from the counter, lifting his cup to his lips, lips curling into a grin wide enough to cut through any lingering fatigue. “Goddamn, you're an asshole.” He muttered, but there was no heat behind it - just a playful lilt, the kind of tone he reserved for people who made him laugh. And Jae did that, in a way that felt almost effortless.

He set the drink down on the counter before reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out his worn wallet - a relic from another time, the kind that had a few deep creases from years of use. Santiago flipped it open, his fingers grazing over the worn edges of the card slots as he rummaged through them, frowning slightly. There was something about the ritual of it all - the slow process, the tactile feeling of leather and plastic cards - that made him refuse to use Apple Wallet, even if it did take longer than it should.

But when Jae dropped the Soul Cycle suggestion, it was all over. Santiago’s laughter burst out, loud and unrestrained, shaking his shoulders as he bent forward. It was the kind of laugh that felt like a release - something too rare to come by these days. “Ain’t no way I’m sittin’ on one of those bikes.” Finally, he held out a black card. “Think you shaking me down is torture in itself.”

[pcstlives]

It was actually annoying how infectious Santiago's laugh was. Jae had to put concerted effort into containing his smile to its usual, understated width. At least, with the quiet beep of the toaster, he had an excuse to turn around for a moment, pulling forth the monkey bread and plating it with one of their compostable forks. Steam rose from the pastry in small, sinuous curls, followed by the warm, heady scent of vanilla.

Jae slid the plate across the counter, eyes momentarily fixed on the motion of Santiago's hand as he rifled through his wallet. "You look like you're enjoying it too much for that to be true." He took the card, swiped it through the reader, and handed it back, tipping the screen towards Santiago to sign, tip, and select a receipt option. "Quad plus, next time," he bargained. "We have to titrate you back down to acceptable levels."

[james-holbrook-deactivated20260]

Who: Jae ( @pcstlives ) Where: Jae's Place

It was supposed to be his day off and Elliot had nothing planned but laying on the couch with Sawyer all day. But he had gotten a text, asking if he could cover a shift for a few hours so his co worker could go home to her sick daughter. And well, he had been in her exact position before, and was never one to tell someone no when it came to work. Knowing they would do the same for him. However, it had left him trying to find someone to watch Sawyer, beyond glad when Jae had said he could do it. And now a few hours later, he found himself walking down the familiar sidewalk that lead to Jae's place. Someone who had quickly became a good friend to him.

What had started off as a surprise when he had first met Jae, finding out he was fluent in ASL and hard of hearing, had turned into a friendship he was so glad for. It was hard to find other deaf people or those that were hard of hearing, who got it in a different way than his hearing friends. Not that he minded one bit, no. But it was still nice to have someone in his life that did.

He stepped over a small patch of ice on the sidewalk, grabbing for his phone to text him and let him know that he was walking up now. Glad that that shift had been short, hadn't worn him down like his longer ones always did in the ER. Pocketing his phone once more as he reached Jae's door, raising a hand to give a knock as well, taking a step back as he waited for the other man to answer.

[pcstlives]

Despite Jae's previous, repeated contentions that he had absolutely no desire to bring new life into this world — he really liked hanging out with Sawyer. He found her endlessly fascinating. And she seemed to like him, too, even though he'd always thought his somewhat stoic demeanor would be off-putting to babies. They had spent hours doing normal baby stuff; playing with her toys, thumbing through picture books, a bit of jumperoo time, a long nap. Yet, the time had gone by quickly, and when Elliot rang the doorbell, Jae found he was surprised at how late it had gotten.

He'd been in the process of kneading some bagel dough, playing around with new flavors for next month's specials, when Elliot rang the doorbell. He checked the time on the oven, and found that he was surprised at how late it'd gotten. After quickly rinsing his hands under the tap, and throwing a kitchen towel over his shoulder, he made his way to the door.

Jae was quick to usher Elliot inside, as usual, it was too fucking cold in Chicago to linger on anyone's stoop. "Hey, she's down for a sleep in the guest room," he signed. "How was work?"

[rainoban]

It was Nettie’s attention to detail that had made Amara adore her —and trust her completely— from the very beginning. It was rare to find someone who just got things without needing to be asked, who anticipated the little things before they even became problems. Whether it was knowing exactly how Amara took her matcha or recognizing when she needed someone to keep her from spiraling into stress, Nettie had a way of always being a step ahead.

The brunette huffed a quiet laugh at Nettie’s theatrics, shaking her head as she tore a small piece from the cruffin. “See, I knew there was a science to his moods,” she mused, leaning back in her chair. “But hey, if him being extra miserable means we get better pastries, I say let him suffer.” She popped the piece into her mouth, humming in satisfaction before nodding toward the quiche. “And I knew you’d dig in. Honestly, I don’t even know why I bother pretending this is all for me.” Her lips twitched with amusement, eyes flicking up from her food to meet Nettie’s with a knowing glint.

At the question about breakfast —or lack thereof— Amara let out a sigh, the kind that only came from deep-seated exhaustion. “Would you believe me if I said I just lost track of time?” She set her cruffin down and rested her chin on her palm, her free hand making vague, tired gestures. “Both my brothers called last night. Which, normally, is fine. But The Witch decided to be extra vile, and they were pissed. Had to talk them down.” There was fondness in her tone, but also exasperation—the kind that came from years of dealing with unnecessary drama from the woman their father decided to marry. "One wanted me to march over and slap her —because, duh, they can't— and the other was moments away from canceling all her credit cards." She waved a dismissive hand, as if shaking off the lingering frustration. “Anyway, by the time I was done playing family therapist, it was morning, and I had just enough time to grab some sad, lonely crackers before running out the door.”

[pcstlives]

The bedrock of Nettie's deep-seated respect for Amara was, and would always be, shared experience. From Nettie's outside perspective, Amara was a grounding force in her family, a lynchpin that none of them truly realized how much they needed. Antoinette could relate; just the other week, she'd abandoned a class at the community pool halfway through because one of her sisters was experiencing her first real, adult breakup.

"Yikes," she shook her head in sympathy. "She had to have done something pretty heinous to inspire that kind of reaction." A not-so-subtle suggestion that Amara could totally spill the beans on what it was, if she was so inclined. The only fun part of burdensome sisterly responsibilities was being in on all the family drama.

Still, that it had driven Amara to a sleepless night and a paltry breakfast, was of course a larger problem. "Regardless, that sounds rough. I'm sorry." She tapped her Valentine's acrylics against the Amara's desk, thoughtful. "Understanding that they need you when they need you, and there's no way to schedule around that — if you ever want me to carve out blocks of the day for you to check in with them, times when you can't feel the time difference so extremely — well, just say the word." For the right reasons, she was strong-willed enough to contort Amara's schedule into whatever Amara needed it to be.

[blotchedpaper]

Too old. Maybe. He didn’t feel old, but exhaustion had a way of settling into the bones, carving out places that didn’t used to ache. His hands curled around the cup, warmth seeping into his palms, grounding in a way that nothing else had managed to be lately. “You trying to make me soft?” he muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ain’t never had coffee this pretty before.”

The first sip burned sweet, the heat of the coffee tempered by the amaretto’s velvet touch, and he sighed low in appreciation. Jae seemed to have a knack for this, for knowing exactly what someone needed before they had the sense to ask for it. Santiago respected that, even if he’d never say so outright. “Think I might need something stronger than a white noise machine or an Ambien. I need a damn lobotomy. Knock all the noise clean outta my head... You got any contacts for that?” His gaze flicked up as Jae moved toward the pastries, and his smirk grew lazy, something close to fond. “You fuss more than my mama did.”

[pcstlives]

There were a lot of reasons Jae found complete fulfillment in his work, but one of the most significant ones was exemplified by the look on Santiago's face. He gave himself a moment or two to take it in, to enjoy the feeling of meeting someone's need, no matter how small a need it might be. "I'm extorting you," he corrected. "The custom drinks are more expensive." After a moment's contemplation, he decided to abandon the idea of a croissant, deciding that the five spice and sweet anise monkey bread would pair better with the drink he'd made. He popped it in the oven to warm before returning to the register.

"I would perform one for you right here, but we just had the countertops redone." He rung up the order, which — even with the surcharge he added to pay his employees a livable wage, still came out to less than the Instagram-bait pop-ups he was increasingly surrounded by. "Maybe you should pursue different avenues of self-torture. I think a Soul Cycle just opened up on this block. You could try spin class."