"C'mon now, Nash, you can't just go swinging a fishing pole like that. You just about took my eye out," Aidan tells his nephew as he takes the pole from him in exchange for a small bucket. "Unlike your mama, you've still got time to learn how to fish properly. You wanna learn how to fish properly, don't ya?" he teases, glancing over his shoulder at his twin. He flashes Lia a shit-eating grin as Nash giggles and nods his little head with vigor. "That's what I thought! Fist bump, little man," he says, switching both poles to one hand and extending his free one to his nephew. It's only been a week since he's been in Atlanta, lying low, and already he's confident it had been the right decision. He'd missed his twin and her son. @gloriouswhispers
having just finished an extended shift at the station, reese craved a long nap and hot shower but unfortunately, crime in new york never slept. when his real job ended, his vigilante work began. thankfully, rory and sam weren’t home tonight it seemed, because an argument with his overprotective big sister was never something he liked. stripping down to change into his spidey suit, he paused at the sound of soft footsteps. ❝ hi... ❞ he murmured at the familiar face. ❝ shit, we had plans tonight didn’t we ?? i’m sorry. ❞
Unable to help but rhythmically bob her head along to the lo-fi playlist quietly playing in the background of the laidback atmosphere 2am called for, Tasya occupied herself multi-tasking between cleaning up her station at the bar and eyeing the only table left with stragglers still seated in it. When they finally sorted out their check and stood up to leave, her eyes naturally sought out Aidan’s from across the floor. “Thank fucking God,” she mouthed, expression rife with dramatised relief before she grinned and stepped out from the bar to collect the miscellaneous glasses left behind, conveniently bringing her closer to Aidan in the process. “I thought they’d never leave. Screw you for creating such a vibe-y place that we end up having campers.” The teasing comment rolled off her tongue as she nudged her hip against Aidan’s, hands still full.
Retrograde’s closing routine was once she’d assisted in so often, she barely had to think about what she was doing. It gave her plenty of time to talk without it impeding the progress of her productivity. Well-aware the sooner everything was taken care of, the sooner they could officially dip out of the establishment, Tasya wasted no time dawdling around — that is, asides from baiting Aidan into some of her playful antics. Disappearing from view briefly only to drop off a tub of remaining dirty glassware in the kitchen, she began to work on locking and cleaning up the beer taps. “Soooo,” she drawled, eyes flashing towards Aidan yet again, “what’s the plan tonight, babe? We grabbing a bite? Going back to yours? Tell me what you’re in the mood for.”
Aidan was born one minute after Lia in Nashville, Tennessee to a family with strong Irish and Jewish roots. He and Lia were double the trouble for their mom who was already rearing two strong-headed boys on her own. The two of them tumbled and trailed after their older brothers, all knobby knees and elbows as they learned to love nature and music and everything both had to offer them.
Even if his love of music never took him as far as his twin, Aidain was always her biggest supporter. It didn’t matter if she was on the road or passing through home again, he cheered her on from both near and far, making sure she knew that he always believed in her dreams. It was easier than trying to figure out what his own were, always dabbling in this and that. A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one, was his constant rebuttal whenever asked why he didn’t just stick with one skill. Life was more fun this way, he and his twin two halves a whole, wandering hearts in each of them.
Over the years, he was able to hone one skill in particular which he used quite consistently: the art of the con. With sparkling blue eyes, a warm smile and an unassuming demeanor, Aidan was able to earn the trust of people in high places over drinks at a high end bar, convenient run-ins at conferences –– anywhere people of influence might gather. It became easy to weave together fact and fiction in a way that made people put their trust in him. And when people trusted him, it became easy to take a little bit of money here, a bit of money there, until he’d created a steady second stream of income for himself.
He makes a point not to take from anyone who can’t afford it, having learned to discern which people fell into what category when he first started and he doesn’t get attached. He hates being tied down and prefers to keep moving after several months in one town or city. With a CV as long as the Mississippi, he tends to narrow it down when he gets a new job, making up a story about family that has him moving from place to place if it comes up.
A few years ago, he made the mistake of conning the wrong person – someone with ties to a crime family in Boston. He hightailed it out of there and decided to go down to Atlanta where some friends were. That was four years ago and he's the reason why Lia decided to come through as well.
As of a month or two ago, Aidan and his girlfriend broke up and since he'd been living in her trailer, she, understandably kicked him out. With no where left to go, he's been crashing with his twin.
He watches from the sidelines for a bit, because it’s been a while since he’s spent more than like an hour in the club. He’s not drinking, because he doesn’t know when he’ll be needed for things upstairs, but he does have a sparkling water with lime, so it’s giving off the illusion at least. He does have a reputation to keep up with after all. The king of hell and debauchery couldn’t get soft, that’s not what the people wanted. So he stands back and he sips his drink and he takes in the crowd. God, he loves his job here. He likes watching people indulge (consensual. of course.) He remembers spending nights indulging himself, and he still does, though in different ways.
Speaking of watching people, in a totally not creepy way, he spots Aidan with a drink, and he knows the look on his face be cause Elias has had it many times before. He makes his way over with a fresh class of scotch and a new drink for himself. He drops himself into the seat next to his friend, crosses his legs and grins at him, eyebrows raised “you know, it’s nice to know this place is being used for what I intended it to be used for, even if it’s not me doing it.” he says, handing the glass full of amber liquid over and taking a sip from his own. @aidanjthornton
thin, knobby wrist flexes onto its side so cool brown eyes can examine the clock face on the leather band that wraps around it. 5:32 PM. his shift starts at 6, and he is early. so, he sits on the steps outside the side door, watching the sun set, smoking a cigarette, surrounded by the smell of trash and the sounds of the city, strangely comfortable and in his element in the cramped alley.
he looks up from his watch to catch the gaze of a young man who looks objectively worse than he does, which is really saying something. he glances down at the carton of cigarettes in his other hand and then lifts it toward him. “you want one of these?” he says around the filter pinched between his teeth. he’s such a good samaritan.
