where: some bar near the precinct who: @oflifelincs & benito nieves
It had been one of those weeks—months, really—where Benito felt like he was being pulled in twelve different directions with no way out. Between the chaos at the heritage vault, the mounting pressure on the precinct to get answers, and the sudden reappearance of a cousin he hadn’t seen in over twenty years, he was running on fumes. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still going to chase a little stress relief—tonight, it just happened to take the form of a childish game of what’s their story with Mackenzie. “Mmh—okay, what do you think of him?” Benito asked, dropping his voice as he leaned into Mackenzie’s space and tipped his chin toward a man at the other end of the bar. Mid-to-late fifties, trucker hat, a snake tattoo coiled around his bicep. Benito narrowed his eyes, considering, before taking a slow pull from his beer.
“My guess? Recently divorced—for the second time. Obsessed with F1. Guilty pleasure’s trashy reality TV. Won't admit it to his boys, though."