❛ yeah, of course.❜ lav watches her dab at the spot for a moment before tugging the napkin out from beneath her glass. there's a damp ring from condescension, and she smoothes it between her fingers before offering it over. ❛ this might help. ❜ a glance down at her drink, now sweating on the wood bartop. ❛ long day? ❜
lacey glances at the napkin, then up at her, giving a small nod as she takes it. “thanks.” it’s simple, genuine, already dabbing a little more efficiently this time. “yeah. long enough.” there’s no complaint in it, just fact, like it’s the default setting. she presses the napkin once more, then sets it aside, eyes flicking briefly to the glass and the ring it left behind. “yours?” she asks after a beat, tone easy, not prying. just keeping it even.
Relief washed over him slightly. Just from the other's own observation and acknowledgement. Some had a disregard to reading the room and he was fortunate to see that wasn't the case. "I don't blame you. They're the masters of their own game and I think anyone who is oblivious enough to play - they're going to get a life lesson in what it means to be a pawn." Nothing wrong with being on the sideline, even if that wasn't trendy or whatever they were calling it these days. "Makes you wonder though. What goes on in those kind of chaotic minds? Like trauma or just clinging on to the power -- " He just shook it off. "Probably not worth it." At least in getting some kind of answer.
sienna’s smile softens a little at that, not dismissive—just thoughtful, like she’s turning the idea over gently rather than engaging with it head-on. “maybe a bit of both,” she says lightly, almost like she’s offering it up without insisting on it. “people usually don’t get that… tangled for no reason.” she shifts her weight, gaze drifting briefly back toward where they were looking, then returning to him with that same easy warmth. “but you’re probably right,” she adds, tone still calm. “it’s not really something you can solve by figuring it out from the outside.” shakes her head softly, then a faint, kind smile returns. “some things are just easier to step around than to understand.”
standing in the doorway of the stables, scott shakes his head, "no, no, don't worry about it. the horse probably requires more attention than me anyway." he jokes. he moves in closer, slowly, he doesn't know what will or won't spook a horse. which, of course, is kind of why he's here, "i know next to nothing about horses, though, so maybe i'm wrong." he feels a bit out of place, but scott is adaptable, he'll make anything work if he has to, "am i allowed to touch it or is that a no no?" he asks, gaze shifting to the horse.
lacey glances over at him from where she’s standing by the stall, one hand resting easy along the horse’s neck as it shifts under her touch. “you’re not wrong.” it’s dry, but not unkind. “they usually do.” it's spoken like it's factual, as she watches him step in closer, eyes tracking more out of habit than concern, then flicks back to the horse, reading it first before answering. “you can.” a small pause. “just don’t sneak up on her.” she shifts slightly, giving him a clearer angle.“hand out, let her see you. she’ll decide if she likes you.” there’s the faintest hint of something there—almost amused, but subtle. her gaze cuts back to him briefly. “don’t take it personal if she doesn’t. this one takes time to warm up.”
"Do you know if this is cucumber or a zucchini?" The recipe she was following asked for the latter, and she knew exactly where both items stood at the grocery store, but she was dumbfounded by the similarity now that they were side by side at this stand. The owner was busy helping out an elderly lady pick out exactly what vegetables and fruit she wanted that he couldn't quickly answer her question.
"I'd be able to tell you if I broke one but I don't think he'd take too kindly to that, especially since I hate cucumbers." Not that they tasted like much but it had been a personal choice since she was a child she hadn't managed to shake her way out of.
"I'm making zucchini banana bread in hopes of upping my own vegetable intake. I'm hiding vegetables in recipes like a parent would do to a child— that's how my day has been going so far. Hopefully yours is better."
lacey glances over at the stand, then back at what she’s holding, eyes narrowing just slightly like she’s sizing it up the same way she would a horse. “zucchini.” she says it with enough certainty, even if she gives it a second look just to be sure. “cucumbers are usually a little colder to the touch. and they’ve got that waxy feel.”
she reaches out, turning it lightly in her hand before handing it back. “you’d know the second you cut it, though.” a small beat. “smells like disappointment.” there’s the faintest hint of dry humor there before she leans back a fraction, arms folding loosely against her chest. “zucchini banana bread, huh.” a short exhale through her nose, almost amused. “that's a new one, can’t say i’ve tried that.”
her gaze flicks toward the rest of the stand, then back. “not a bad way to do it, though. hide it well enough, you won’t notice.” there's a soft shrug of her shoulders. “my day’s been fine.” a slight tilt of her head. “yours doesn’t sound too bad either, all things considered.”
the birthday of one of one of his closest friends from his los angeles years was fast approaching ('less than twenty four hours away' fast) and he was underprepared. not with the cake or the catering service for the small reunion he'd volunteer to cover, he had planned all of it months prior and had more than half of the prepared ingredients stored in his fridge, ready to be transported in less than 20 hours to an industrial fridge closer to where the celebration would be taking place. yet anything that involved being a guest instead of just the caterer? completely lost by hyperfocusing on getting everything perfect.
for a while, the child had been the closest thing sebastian had known to a familial care for a child in his lifetime and when he had moved to deer valley and the child had approached teenagehood, they'd lost touch. connecting with them again had been incredible in every aspect except now, over seven years since he'd spent over three hours with them, he had no idea who they'd grown up to be, what they liked and disliked. alas how he found himself in the golden hour, pursuing every isle trying to gather a good stack of vinyls (as suggested by his friend with no other context whatsoever) he could bring as a gift, doubting every single one of his choices. "hey" he approached the nearest person, an apologetic grin stretching through his lips. "can i ask you somethin'? what would you get for a seventeen year old?" sebastian questioned. "i'm a little lost, don't have a clue what the kids are listening to these days and i don't know them that well."
lacey glances up from where she’s been flipping through a crate, one brow lifting slightly at the question. she takes him in quick; apologetic, overwhelmed, holding vinyl like it might solve something bigger than music. “seventeen?” she repeats, like she’s buying herself a second to think. then a small exhale through her nose.
“honestly?” a faint shrug of her shoulders. “they’ll either think it’s great or hate it, there's no in-between.” her gaze drops to the stack in his hands, then back up. “vinyl’s not a bad idea, though. at least it looks like you tried.” dry, but not unkind.
she taps one of the records lightly with her finger. “you know anything about what they’re into? or you just guessing and hoping for the best?” there's a beat, a moment of pause as she considers the advice she's about to give. “cause if it’s the second one, pick something you’d stand by. easier to defend when they ask why.”
SETTING: at the ashford stables & livery w/ lacey moore ( @tcllips )
DANTE KNEW THAT HIS PRESENCE THERE WASN’T THE MOST WELCOMED AROUND THESE PARTS, but no Ashford would keep him from checking in on how one of their kids was doing. This particular student had been diagnosed as neurodivergent and had been taking equine therapy lessons to help with his development. As he leaned onto one of the fence’s posts, he watched Lacey giving the final instructions to one of her students before she caught his presence in the distance. The professor raised his hand in greeting and waited until she was close enough to actually saying hello. ❝ How is it going, Lacey? ❞ He asked as he dropped his arms to his sides. ❝ You're ready to come over to the ranch yet? ❞ Dante chuckled. ❝ Told you you’re wasting your talent here. ❞
lacey clocks him before he even calls out, but she finishes with her student first. voice steady, a quick correction, a light pat to the horse. then sends them on their way. only then does she make her way over, brushing her hands against her jeans, eyes settling on him with something a touch more amused than usual.
“you’re still trying huh?” there’s a faint tilt of her head, like she’s almost impressed by the persistence. “gotta give you that.” a small exhale follows, not quite a laugh, but close enough.
“i’m good where i’m at.” she adds, easy, not defensive—just certain. “don’t think i’d last a week over there without you regretting it. i do things my own way.” her gaze flicks past him briefly, checking the arena out of habit, then back. “kid’s doing alright, though. better than last week.” it was progress. “that why you’re here, or you just stopping by to see me?”
“This is the third time I’ve seen you this week. You comin’ to see me or is the pot pie really that good?” Leave it to her to already be poking light fun at complete strangers, “What’s it goin’ to be today?”
lacey glances up at that, a familiar kind of look passing over her face before it settle. something just shy of amused. “maybe i just like seeing a familiar face.” it’s dry, but there’s a hint of something lighter underneath it, like she doesn’t mind it as much as she lets on. she shifts her weight slightly, hands resting easy, already half in motion like she doesn’t stand still long even when she’s supposed to. “or maybe i don’t have much time for cooking these days.” a small shrug follows, casual, matter-of-fact. her eyes flick briefly toward whatever’s on display, then back again. “depends, should i stick to the same old same old or try a special?”
"might want to watch your step. pretty sure that apple's been stepped on fifty times and that'd be rough stuck to your shoe." dallas calls out to the other, pointing toward the smushed apple on the ground directly ahead of them. "unless you like a sticky shoe. i'm passing no judgment here."
sienna follows the direction of their point, gaze landing on the apple for a moment before a small, almost amused smile settles on her face. “oh good catch,” she says softly, like she’s genuinely grateful rather than inconvenienced.
she shifts her step just slightly, careful and unhurried, moving around it without much fuss. “i don’t think sticky shoes are really my thing,” she adds, a lightness in her tone that makes it feel like a passing thought rather than a correction. her eyes flick back to them briefly, warm and observant. “but i appreciate that, so thank you.”
it was unusual for joey to have a day off drinking alone in town. back in new york, it seemed like it was all they did; wait for the sun to go down just to find themselves roaming the streets and looking for a place that would let them in— all had changed upon moving to deer valley. now, whenever they did, was out of fun and to try to fit in a city that had taken them as it's own. their nights off usually consisted on one or two drinks, tops, before moving to the diner for a late dinner. this night was no different if the lukewarm beer nestled in their hand had any saying in it.
from their peripheral vision, they spotted a pretty face by their side, making them smirk. the bartender gave her a quick glance whilst taking one small sip from their bottle of beer, emptying the bottle before turning their entire body to face the other. "hey, can i buy you a drink?" they questioned, showing their empty one as some sort of explanation. "i ran out and why not share the joy, y'know? you can chose whatever you want. i have like two hundred bucks to my name so go wild, we're living large tonight" they jested.
sienna glances over at the empty bottle first, then up at them, her smile already there, soft, a little amused, like she’s caught onto the tone before the words fully land. “two hundred?” she echoes lightly, a quiet laugh slipping through. “that’s… a dangerous amount of confidence.” she shifts just enough to face them, resting her elbow against the bar, relaxed but not closing the distance entirely. her eyes flick briefly toward the bartender, then back. “i don’t think i’d feel right letting you go broke over a drink,” she adds, still warm, still easy. “but… i’ll meet you halfway.” a small pause, it's thoughtful, like she’s already made her mind up. “something simple’s fine,” she says, tilting her head just slightly, her smile spreading slightly across her lips.
being back in deer valley, it wasn’t a shock that she would run into people that she knew. she expected it. anticipated it even but she never knew if they were going to ignore her or welcome her back. she didn’t expect the latter but she was more well received than even she expected. she had been endlessly walking down the aisles of the store trying to figure out exactly what she was looking for. turning to sienna, she glanced at the two items in front of her. “which one screams i have a child so i want to look mature but also i can be fun too?”
sienna looks between the two items, taking a moment like she’s genuinely considering the question rather than rushing to answer. her expression stays light, attentive—like this kind of thing matters in the most normal, human way.
a small smile tugs at her lips. “that’s a very specific identity to balance,” she says softly, almost amused, but kind about it. she shifts the items slightly in her hands, weighing them visually. “this one feels more ‘put together’—like you’ve got things handled.” a pause, then her gaze drifts to the other. “and this one is a bit more relaxed… like you’re not trying too hard, just… still yourself.”
she glances back at them, warm and thoughtful. "honestly?” her smile softens a little. “you already seem like both. so either works—you’re just deciding which part you want people to notice first.”
"It's no worries, figured I would catch you here." Originally, they were supposed to meet up for coffee. It was like a thank you - an idea of paying him back for his good faith in letting her come back to pay for some things she bought at the store he owned (The Outpost) but unfortunately at the time left her card at home by mistake. They lived in the same neighborhood and mostly everyone knew one another or had in passing. So it was easy for him to agree and understand "Like I told you before, it's really no big deal. I don't need free coffee as payback. I mean technically you did come back and pay for those items just like you said you would." True to her word. Hues locked on the animal though. Living in Deer Valley, one became accustomed to horses or farm life in general even if he had never been involved directly into the sort of thing. At least not with horses anyways. "Is this one your favorite?"
lacey huffs out a quiet breath at that, tension easing just a notch, though there’s still that faint, habitual guilt sitting behind it. “yeah, well. still said i would.” she shrugs a shoulder, like that’s the end of it in her mind. “coffee’s not exactly breaking the bank.” her hand lifts again, subtle cue, and the horse shifts direction with a soft snort. eyes track the movement automatically, attention splitting easy between the work and the conversation.
“and you didn’t have to trust i’d come back either.” she adds it plain, not heavy. just factual. then, after a beat, a little drier, “most people wouldn’t.” at the question, her gaze flicks back to him briefly before returning to the horse. “no.” simple answer, but not dismissive. “don’t really do favorites.” she steps in closer then, lowering her hand and letting the line slack just enough. “c’mon, girl. done for now.” her voice drops a touch, softly petting the horse, quieter, directed at the horse as she moves to lead her toward the gate, already turning her attention back to routine. “you mind waiting a few minutes? I'll put her in her stall and we can be on our way.”
Where: April 18th - Square Dance Competition (The Valley).
"A little advice, that couple over there - they may play it cool but they wipe the floor with these competitions every single time. Plus they have this whole thing of who can make the other the most jealous." Antonio wasn't speaking from his personal experience, only from an outsider looking in. There had been a few people who tried to shoot their shot with one or the other of the pair in question. It seemed like a common trend and maybe it was their own little game. People were into various things - it wasn't his business to judge. Antonio just observed. Nonetheless, it usually ended up in a fight. Punches had been thrown and hair had been pulled far too many times for him to remember.
sienna’s gaze drifts over for a moment, not lingering long enough to be obvious before it settles back, a small, easy smile already resting on her lips. “i figured,” she murmurs, a hint of warmth in her tone, like she’s not surprised. just confirming something she’d already picked up on. her hands fold loosely in front of her, thumb brushing absentmindedly against her knuckle. “they have that… energy,” she adds gently, eyes soft with quiet observation rather than judgment. “like they’re always keeping score, even if no one else can see it.” she lets out a light breath, the smile still there, easy and unbothered on the surface. “i think i’ll just stay out of their way,” she says, almost amused now, but calm about it. “seems safer that way.”
✧ ⸻ is that MINT RANCHRAWEE ? no? that’s SIENNA RATTANAKUL? are you sure? SHE has been here for HER ENTIRE LIFE, and they now live in DOWNTOWN. no wonder i missed them! it seems that they are also TWENTY-SEVEN and that they work as CHEF at HEARTHSTONE. are you telling me that they are RELIABLE and WARM, but also INDEPENDENT and SELF SEPRESSING? i guess it makes sense they would remind people of “just in case you get hungry later”, handwritten recipes with little adjustments in the margins, watching people enjoy what she made with quiet satisfaction not expecting a thank you. now i can’t wait to meet them !
✧ ⸻ BACKSTORY:
tw: mentions of child loss, parental abandonment, toxic family environment.
she grew up in a house that never quite recovered.
there had been a baby once—someone small enough to be held in both hands, someone who softened everything just by existing. and then, just as suddenly, that softness was gone. grief didn’t explode through the house—it settled. it seeped into the walls, into the quiet spaces between words, into the long stretches of silence that followed.
her parents didn’t know how to carry it together.
arguments became more frequent, sharper in tone even when their voices stayed low, like something constantly on the verge of breaking. doors closed more often. eventually, they stopped sharing a room altogether. the house divided itself into separate spaces, separate lives, and somewhere in the middle of it all, she was left to drift between them—unnoticed, unanchored. so she learned not to need.
she became the kind of child adults described as “easy.” quiet, well-behaved, independent beyond her years. not because she didn’t feel things deeply, but because she understood, in the way children sometimes do without being told, that there was no room for her feelings here. not anymore.
most nights, she made her own dinners.
nothing elaborate at first—simple things she could manage standing on a chair, carefully watching, learning through trial and error. she’d sit at the table alone, a stuffed animal tucked into the chair across from her like a silent companion, filling the space where conversation should have been. the house would hum with distant tension. muffled voices behind closed doors, footsteps that never quite met in the same room. and she would eat quietly, teaching herself how to exist without being noticed. but invisibility didn’t mean emptiness.
if anything, it made her more aware. she learned to read people the way others read books—every shift in tone, every glance, every unspoken feeling. and where she had once searched for care, she began to offer it instead. kindness became second nature. she remembered small details, checked in without being asked, softened her presence to make others feel safe. cooking stayed with her.
what started as necessity became something else entirely. control, comfort, creation. in a house where everything felt fractured, the kitchen was the one place she could make something whole. recipes gave her structure. flavors gave her expression. feeding people became its own quiet language, a way of saying all the things she never quite learned how to ask for herself. still, beneath the gentleness, something lingered.
a quiet, persistent anger—not loud or explosive, but steady. the kind that surfaced in small, fleeting moments. when she realized no one had asked about her day. when kindness wasn’t returned. when she caught herself thinking, i was there too. because she had been. she had needed them too. so she became someone others could rely on. soft, attentive, endlessly giving. the one who noticed, who remembered, who stayed.
even if, deep down, there was still a part of her sitting at that dinner table. alone, across from an empty chair; wondering what it might have felt like to be chosen first.
✧ ⸻ STATISTICS.
tbd.
✧ ⸻ HEADCANONS.
graduated college with honors in culinary. the first in her family to achieve this accomplishment for both graduating and with honors.
got a scholarship for culinary school with her high gpa.
lacey’s attention is fixed on the horse in front of her, body angled just enough to guide without crowding, one hand resting light against the line while the other lifts slightly. subtle, controlled. the horse circles, slower now, ears flicking back toward her voice as she clicks her tongue softly. “easy… there you go.”
it’s all rhythm and patience, the kind that comes from doing this a thousand times over. she doesn’t notice at first. too focused, but something shifts. maybe the horse catches it before she does, head turning slightly toward the edge of the pen. then she follows the movement, glancing up and then immediately stills. “oh, shit.”
it slips out under her breath, more realization than alarm, already stepping back a half pace as the horse slows on its own. “we had plans, didn’t we?” her voice carries a little more now, hand coming up to rub at the back of her neck, a mix of sheepish and matter-of-fact all at once. she exhales, shaking her head slightly at herself. “i got caught up.” a small pause, then she gestures vaguely to the horse like that explains everything. which, to her, it does. “lost track of time.”
she can't really blame lacey on that one. "i don't think it should take more than five or ten minutes." she tries to be reassuring, but her eyebrows furrow and she turns to the nurse with a questioning look. "right?" to which the nurse gives a nod that's not at all encouraging; caroline grimaces. "do you think you'd feel better if you stood? not sure how that would affect results and –" the nurse gives caroline a look, and the baker withers a little. "well, i tried, for you, lacey." bottom lip sticks out playfully, but she's soon turning her face away, as if lacey could read anything – caroline is pretty sure the last time she's been to ashford stables, she left early enough so no one would be able to detect her, or so she'd have hoped. "'suppose i should visit more, if for nothing else, you. and, well, pumpkin." her own horse, though she could barely say that by now – it's been years since she got on top of the beautiful beast. "how has she been? and how's a horse's memories work, do you know?"
lacey watches the exchange with the nurse without much reaction, just a slight shift of her weight where she’s sitting, like she’s already decided she’s staying put either way. “five or ten’s fine.” she says it easy, not bothered—just impatient in that quiet, contained way. “i’ve waited longer for worse.” her gaze flicks briefly to the nurse, then back to caroline, catching that look without calling it out. she doesn’t push it, just lets it pass. “i’ll stay sitting. don’t feel like making it more complicated than it needs to be.”
her attention settles a little more when pumpkin’s mentioned, something softer slipping in without much warning. “she’s good.” a small nod follows, like that’s enough to confirm it. “same as always. little stubborn, but she’s got reason to be.” she leans back slightly, arms resting loose, thinking for a second before answering the rest. “they remember more than people give them credit for.” her tone’s matter-of-fact, but there’s something steadier underneath it. “not like we do, not exact. but they know voices, habits… how you handle them.” a brief glance over, more direct now. “she’d remember you.” a beat before she continues. “you should stop by and say hi to her, i think we'd both like that.”
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
blakekathryn
kaledo-art
dailybridgerton
