penned & adored by pixie for @thefaultlinehq
⭒ giuliana santoro (camila queiroz fc, 33, santoro family lawyer) - intro | musings | pics | threads ⭒
Not today Justin
No title available
$LAYYYTER
wallacepolsom

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

Love Begins
we're not kids anymore.
RMH
🪼
cherry valley forever
noise dept.
No title available

★

Kiana Khansmith
Jules of Nature
todays bird
Claire Keane
Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz

seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from United States

seen from India

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Israel

seen from United States
seen from Sweden

seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Sweden

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Australia
@velourhush
penned & adored by pixie for @thefaultlinehq
⭒ giuliana santoro (camila queiroz fc, 33, santoro family lawyer) - intro | musings | pics | threads ⭒
PRESENTING :
GIULIANA SANTORO for RIFT VALLEY'S SUMMER KICKOFF .
⋆˚☆˖° status: closed!! // utp!! (@fracturedlcve) °˖☆˚⋆
⋆˚☆˖° location: summer kickoff!! °˖☆˚⋆
she was halfway through regretting attending when someone spilled lemonade on a city council member. not enough to cause a scene. just enough to be funny. she watched the entire thing unfold from behind a vendor stall, expression perfectly composed despite the faint amusement threatening the corner of her mouth. "well," she mused aloud, folding her arms. “that was the most honest political interaction i've witnessed all year.” the unfortunate council member was still attempting to save his shirt several yards away. giu looked away before she could be accused of enjoying it. the festival stretched around her in a blur of conversation, food stalls, live music, and the peculiar chaos that seemed to follow any event involving the general public. for a moment, she simply stood there, people watching. which was one of her favorite hobbies. and one of the more dangerous ones. eventually her attention settled on someone nearby. “can i ask you something?” she tilted her head slightly. “what's the strangest thing you've ever seen at one of these events?” a pause. “because i've been here less than an hour and i've already watched a man lose an argument with a parking meter, a teenager attempt to flirt with someone while holding a turkey leg the size of his forearm, and whatever that was.” she gestured vaguely in the direction of the lemonade incident. “and somehow i don't think the night is finished embarrassing itself.” for the first time, an actual smile tugged briefly at her lips. "so i'm curious what i'm competing with."
⋆˚☆˖° status: closed!! // utp!! (@noctisordo) °˖☆˚⋆
⋆˚☆˖° location: summer kickoff!! °˖☆˚⋆
giuliana had never liked carnival games. the entire premise felt vaguely insulting. pay money to be lied to. at least most professions attempted subtlety. still, she found herself standing in front of one of the festival booths with a dart clenched between her fingers while a teenager running the stand enthusiastically explained rules she had stopped listening to thirty seconds ago. around her, the festival buzzed with life. music carried across the park. food vendors filled the air with the scent of fried dough and barbecue. children darted through the crowds with glowsticks and prizes clutched in their hands. and somewhere in the back of everyone's mind sat the same thought. the letter. the warning. the fact that whoever had sent it was probably enjoying this as much as everyone else wasn't. the teenager finally finished his explanation. she looked at the dart. looked at the balloons. then threw it. missed entirely. not even close. for a moment, she simply stared at the result. then slowly turned toward whoever happened to be standing nearby. "if you repeat what you just witnessed," she informed them calmly, “i'll deny it under oath.” the corner of her mouth twitched. “and before you say anything, i'd like the record to show that i was distracted by the psychological warfare currently unfolding across this city.” she picked up another dart. “either that or i'm embarrassingly bad at this.” a beat. “i haven't decided which explanation is more damaging to my reputation.”
⋆˚☆˖° status: closed!! // utp!! (@xxblackmagicx) °˖☆˚⋆
⋆˚☆˖° location: summer kickoff!! °˖☆˚⋆
the kickoff festival was doing exactly what it had been designed to do. keep people distracted. music drifted through beneath strings of warm lights. children ran between vendor booths with painted faces and sticky hands. laughter carried from crowded tables. somewhere near the center of the festival, someone was trying very hard to win an oversized stuffed animal and failing spectacularly. normal. it all looked wonderfully, deliberately normal. giu stood near the edge of the crowd with a folded copy of the now infamous letter tucked beneath her arm. she had dressed for the occasion in the same way she dressed for everything else, impeccably. the city was frightened. she could see it. in the way conversations lowered when the letters were mentioned. in the way parents kept children a little closer. in the way people smiled too quickly and laughed a little too loud. fear always changed the atmosphere before it changed anything else. for now, though, the festival carried on. because what else was there to do? her gaze swept over the crowd before settling briefly on someone nearby. a familiar face. maybe a stranger. it hardly mattered. "tell me something," she said, voice smooth as silk. her eyes flicked toward the folded letter. “are we all being incredibly brave...” a faint smile curved at the corner of her mouth. “...or incredibly stupid?” the question hung comfortably between them, open enough for disagreement, conversation, or escape. after all, there were plenty of distractions nearby if neither of them liked the answer.
location: rift valley festival
"Now, I know some of you only came because somebody told you there'd be free food. I respect that. Honestly, that's gotten me to a few city council meetings myself." He allows a moment or two for the laughter to settle. "I wish we were gathering under better circumstances, but seeing all of you here reminds me why I love this city. So for a few hours, leave the worries for tomorrow. Grab some food, enjoy the music, spend time with the people who matter to you, and let Rift Valley do what it does best -- show up for each other."
With a final wave to the crowd, Graham stepped away from the podium and into the heart of the festival, greeting familiar faces as he went and leaving himself open to anyone who wished to stop him.
the applause followed him long after he stepped away from the podium. of course it did. graham pierce had mastered the art of making people feel reassured while standing in the middle of a disaster. it was probably why he'd survived politics this long. smile at the crowd. tell them everything would be alright. make them laugh just enough to forget they were afraid. for a little while, it even worked. giuliana stood near one of the vendor stalls, a paper cup of espresso in hand despite the summer heat. festival lights hung overhead in warm strands of gold, children ran between booths with painted faces, music drifted somewhere. and beneath all of it sat the uncomfortable reality that everyone here had received the same letter. everyone was pretending not to think about it. which meant everyone was thinking about it. she waited until graham finished greeting a small cluster of residents before stepping into his path with the ease of someone who had never once doubted she belonged wherever she decided to stand. “mayor.” the title rolled off her tongue smoothly. polite. dangerously polite. her gaze drifted briefly toward the crowd still lingering around the stage before returning to him. “that was a very nice speech.” a beat. “the joke was particularly inspired. i watched three people immediately stop looking terrified.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly. giuliana wasn't smiling. not really. “i almost believed it myself.” around them, laughter carried from somewhere near the food trucks. a band started tuning instruments near the main stage. the festival continued exactly as intended. normalcy performed at gunpoint. she took a slow sip of her espresso. "you know," she continued lightly, “if i didn't know better, i'd think you were trying to convince the city everything was under control.” her gaze settled on him then. steady. observant. the kind of look that understood exactly how exhausting leadership became when panic started spreading faster than facts. “tell me honestly, though.” quieter now. just enough that the question felt private despite the crowd around them. "how worried are you?"
Seojun had always been the observant type within silence. Most people failed to notice him unless he intentionally allowed himself to be seen. It was a skill sharpened through years of work, understanding precisely when to remain invisible and when a situation required presence instead. If someone overlooked him entirely, it was usually because he preferred it that way.
The sharp click of heels against the floor shifted his attention before the woman herself fully entered his line of sight. The moment her gaze settled on him, a choice had already been made. He assessed her quickly, subtly, the way he assessed everyone. Body language revealed far more than words ever could. Hers carried confidence too naturally to be fabricated. Calm. Poised. Controlled. Yet beneath all of it lingered something sharper, something quietly threatening. Seojun recognized that immediately. He had spent too many years surrounded by dangerous people not to.
So she was not like the rest.
Interesting.
At her comment regarding his unusual way of greeting people, Seojun cleared his throat softly before responding without visible offense. “Annyeonghaseyo.” The greeting left him smooth and effortless before his head tilted slightly. “There,” he added calmly. “You may consider that another attempt.” The pause that followed between them did not go unnoticed. He recognized tactics when they were used against him, especially the kind meant to provoke discomfort or force reaction. Unfortunately for her, Seojun was not easily unsettled. His expression revealed nothing. No irritation. No uncertainty. Merely a slow blink in return. “Oh,” he murmured after a moment, voice remaining even, “but now we have solved the issue.”
If she genuinely believed this qualified as intimidation, then she had yet to witness what it truly looked like when someone intended to unsettle a room. Still, Seojun remained silent for a moment longer, studying her with the same measured attention as before. His gaze moved subtly, observant rather than obvious, cataloguing details with practiced ease.
“I am not lost,” Seojun continued smoothly. “And intimidation generally requires effort.” A brief pause followed before his head tilted slightly, elegant and composed. “You seem entirely capable of doing that part on your own.” There was no challenge in his voice. No obvious threat. “You are not a test subject, and I have no interest in measuring."
giu’s mouth curved faintly at the korean greeting. not warmth. amusement. “well,” she replied smoothly, “that is considerably more polite than the first attempt.” the city moved around them in blurred noise. headlights washed across wet pavement. conversations drifted from somewhere down the block. neither seemed particularly interested in acknowledging any of it. her gaze remained on him. steady. unhurried. the kind of look that made people wonder whether they were being evaluated or simply tolerated. i am not lost. “good,” she said lightly. “i was concerned for a moment.” then came the rest. intimidation generally requires effort. you seem entirely capable of doing that part on your own. that earned a small laugh. low. brief. “is that your way of saying i'm difficult?” she asked. the question wasn't really a question. her head tilted slightly as she regarded him. there was something almost frustratingly composed about him. not threatening. not arrogant. simply unmoved. the sort of person who seemed allergic to unnecessary reactions. which, unfortunately, made him more interesting. “and here i thought we were building rapport.” she folded her arms loosely across her chest. “although i suppose we're making progress. you've upgraded from move along now to complete sentences.” a beat. “i'll take the victory.” his final remark lingered between them. you are not a test subject, and i have no interest in measuring. for the first time, something sharper flickered behind her eyes. not offense. curiosity. “that's interesting,” she said softly. because most people measured. constantly. status, leverage, usefulness, weakness. especially in a city like this. “either you're remarkably secure in your own judgment...” her gaze held his. “or you've already decided whatever it is you wanted to know.” the corner of her mouth twitched. “fortunately for both of us, i'm not particularly invested in which one it is.” she finally shifted her weight as if considering whether to continue on her way. then paused. “for what it's worth,” giuliana added, voice smooth as silk, “you should work on your greetings for the future.” a glance toward him. “they're memorable.” another beat. “not necessarily in the way you'd hope.”
As Arisa reached to grab the shovel from the other, she couldn't help but apologize. For all she knew it could have struck her. Arisa nodded nonetheless, she wouldn't press on the matter if the other stated she was okay. "that is something that is surprising." she looked over at Luna. maybe a sign that she had a hidden skill yet to be fully developed. Taking the shovel she brought it back to Luna, watching as her daughter smiled when it was returned. The sound of the waves were soothing, however, it wasn't quite soothing her in the moment.
cute kid. I've seen her before.
Arisa didn't know why a cold chill sudden ran down her spine. It wasn't the compliment, it was the delivery of the last sentence. No doubt, recognition. Arisa thought back to the play dates she had with Luna, surely people have seen her yes. But she's never meet this woman before. "You have?" she was taken aback. "Where? I don't believe I've met you."
the reaction was immediate. small. controlled. but immediate. giuliana caught it anyway. the slight tension in arisa’s shoulders. the careful way her attention sharpened without appearing to. the instinctive check toward luna that happened a fraction of a second before she looked back. protective. interesting. the ocean rolled lazily behind them, waves folding against the shoreline while children laughed further down the beach. the whole scene felt deceptively normal. giuliana had spent enough years around dangerous people to know normal was usually where the important things hid. “no,” she agreed easily. “we haven’t met.” her gaze drifted briefly toward luna, who seemed far more invested in her sandcastle than the increasingly delicate conversation happening nearby. lucky child. “a week ago,” giuliana continued, voice casual enough to almost pass for idle conversation. “playground near the east side.” she let the information settle. didn't rush it. didn't soften it either. “you weren't there.” a pause. “she was with her father.” there it was. not a question. not an accusation. simply a fact placed carefully between them. for a moment, giuliana watched the waves rather than arisa. gave her space to process it. gave her room to decide whether she wanted to lie. “for what it's worth,” she added after a beat, “she seemed very happy.” her eyes returned to arisa then. calm. steady. dangerously perceptive. “and he seemed terrified.” the corner of her mouth curved faintly. “which, in my experience, is usually how you identify a good parent.” another pause. then, quieter this time. “you don't need to look at me like i'm a threat.” because now she was. looking at her that way. giuliana could see it. “if i intended your daughter harm, we wouldn't be discussing sandcastles.” the statement was delivered with unnerving simplicity. not a threat. not reassurance either. just truth. her gaze flicked toward luna once more as the little girl proudly added another lopsided handful of sand to her construction project. “honestly,” she said dryly, “i'm more concerned about what she'll become when she realizes she can throw things with that kind of accuracy.” then she looked back at arisa. “though judging by her parents, stubborn is probably the more immediate concern.”
gianna was silent for a moment. unsure of how to even begin. how their cousin had invited her to talk. an actual sit and and talk. one betweeen two cousins. not between a soldier and her boss. the entire conversation between them had left gianna feeling as if the walls around her were crumbling, and in a way, they were. that was something she didn't even want to admit either. "it was just a talk between two cousins. an actual talk. not one of him yelling at me or telling me that i didn't do a good job." it was an honest conversation that had caught her off guard. she never expected it either. "i also told him about something i've kept from him, and everyone else too.." that was a whole can of worms that was going to open. she just knew it. the moment she told her sister, she could only imagine how mad she would possibly be at her. "turns out he already knew though."
for a moment, giuliana said nothing. which, from her, was usually a warning sign. she remained leaning against the edge of her desk, espresso cup balanced loosely in one hand, eyes fixed on gianna with the kind of attention most people found uncomfortable. not because it was judgmental. because it was complete. an actual talk. that alone was enough to surprise her. antonio was many things. patient was not typically among them. the corner of her mouth twitched faintly. “well,” she said at last, dry as ever, “that narrows the list of possible catastrophes considerably.” her gaze dropped briefly to the desk before returning to her sister. “and for what it's worth, nana, if antonio voluntarily sat down and had an emotionally functional conversation, i think we should probably document the occasion for historical records.” the joke was gentle. intentional. because she could already see it. the way gianna was bracing herself. waiting. then came the second part. i also told him about something i've kept from him, and everyone else too. the humor disappeared. not dramatically. simply gone. giuliana set her espresso down. carefully. “ah.” just that. one syllable. and somehow it carried enough weight to make the office feel smaller. her eyes narrowed slightly — not in anger. in thought. turns out he already knew though. that earned the first genuine look of surprise she'd shown all day. “he knew?” a beat. then another. because that changed things. antonio knowing meant this wasn't a fresh wound. it meant someone had been carrying information for longer than gianna realized. it meant there had been opportunities for confrontation that never happened. which, frankly, sounded even more like antonio than yelling did. finally, giuliana exhaled softly through her nose. “okay.” she straightened slightly. “first of all, i'm going to need significantly more detail than that because you've somehow managed to tell this story exactly like a witness being cross-examined.” a pause. “which is impressive considering you're related to me and should know better.” the faintest hint of affection returned to her voice. then she stepped closer, just enough that the conversation felt less like an interrogation and more like family. “second,” giuliana continued quietly, “look at me.” she waited until gianna did. “whatever this thing is that you've been carrying around alone...” her expression softened. not visibly to most people, but enough for gianna to see it. “the part of this story you're most afraid of is not the secret.” her head tilted slightly. “it's finding out whether people still love you after they know it.” silence settled between them. gentler this time. “and unless i've missed something particularly dramatic,” giuliana said softly, “antonio already answered that question when he stayed.” a beat. “now tell me the part you're trying very hard not to tell me.”
apparently, the other brunette did not share in scottie's sense of flattened darkened humor entertaining, brought on by a large book she'd seen sitting by her and that thing looked huge.
it’s important to have a good vocabulary. if i had known the difference between the words “antidote” and “anecdote,” one of my best friends would still be alive.
she'd recited with the smallest crook of an almost smile with the other clearly unamused. " it was a joke! jesus you rich people got no sense of humor. " she flips the page of the magazine someone left behind, all outdated and ugly but it was better to look at than nothing.
@velourhush .
giuliana didn't look up immediately. which somehow made the silence worse. she sat on the opposite end of the waiting area with a hardcover book resting open against one crossed knee, one finger marking her place between the pages. tailored cream coat. gold jewelry. the sort of effortless polish that made it seem personally offensive when someone interrupted her concentration. only after a beat did her gaze finally lift from the book to scottie. slowly. deliberately. the kind of look that suggested she was trying to determine whether the joke had been bad or whether scottie herself was simply committed to making it worse through repetition. “ah.” a pause. “see, the issue isn't that i'm rich.” her voice was smooth, composed. “it's that jokes are generally expected to be funny.” she turned a page. calmly. then added, “a distinction i realize is becoming increasingly controversial.” the corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly before her attention returned to the magazine in scottie's hands. “and for the record, i grew up surrounded by italians. if you think wealth is what killed my sense of humor, you've dramatically underestimated the damage family can do.” another page turned. "though i'm fascinated by the assumption that everyone who owns a hardcover book is rich." her eyes flicked briefly back toward scottie. “some of us simply enjoy reading things longer than a tweet.” there was no real hostility in it. not quite. just the faintly patronizing tone of a woman who enjoyed winning conversations she hadn't volunteered to participate in. she studied scottie for another moment. defensive posture. sharp eyes hidden behind deliberate disinterest. a person who looked perpetually prepared to leave before anyone could ask her to stay. "besides," giuliana continued, closing the book around her finger, “if you're going to tell a joke about someone dying because of a vocabulary mistake, commitment is important.”
Closed starter Characters: Arisa + Giuliana @velourhush Location: walk by the ocean
She decided to spend the morning walking along the beach, it was early enough where people were gathered, and a nice enough day for a walk. She dressed luna for the occasion, her little bathing suit ready to take on the ocean waters. Building a sandcastle. She settled her blanket, and chair on the sand, holding the small child bucket, as she helped collect it for her. Luna then threw the shovel and it landed in front of another. "I'm sorry." arisa apologized "do you mind grabbing that for me?"
the shovel landed near the edge of giuliana’s shoe with a soft thud against the sand. for a moment, she simply looked down at it. then at the child attached to it. small. dark-eyed. entirely unconcerned with the chaos she’d accidentally launched into a stranger’s path. a dangerous kind of familiar. slowly, giuliana bent to retrieve the toy, the sleeves of her cream knit cardigan slipping slightly down elegant wrists as ocean wind curled loose strands of dark hair around her face. she handed it back easily enough, gaze lifting toward arisa afterward. and paused. recognition clicked into place almost immediately. not because they knew each other well. because yujin park had looked at this child like men only looked at things they would kill for. the memory surfaced uninvited — playground lights, luna’s tiny hands in the sand while yujin stood watch like the world itself owed him paranoia. and now here. the same eyes. not yujin’s exactly. hers. but close enough. giuliana’s expression gave nothing away. “don’t apologize,” she said smoothly, voice softened slightly by the sound of the waves nearby. “i think i survived the attack.” the faintest curve touched her mouth as she glanced toward luna again. “though her throwing arm is concerningly good for someone her size.” her attention returned to arisa after a beat, more observant now than casual. she noticed things automatically — the protective positioning near the blanket, the way arisa tracked luna even while speaking, the exhaustion sitting subtly beneath composure. mother exhaustion. the sort that settled into bone. “cute kid,” giuliana said quietly. a pause. then, deliberate. “i’ve seen her before.” not accusatory. worse, maybe. certain.
you’re helping yourself survive proximity to my family. there’s a difference. hani couldn't help but wonder how this woman had gotten the position of a family lawyer if she didn't even fully know who she was speaking to. it almost had her in awe, the way giuliana was talking to her like she was nothing but one of her little lackeys who was barely worth kissing her immaculate, expensive shoes. not a policewoman who'd ended up in the mob's pocket because she was too much of a danger to have anywhere else. if anyone should've known the stakes, it should've been that woman. it was slightly, if not very, worrying that she apparently didn't.
hani allowed giuliana to pick the letter from between her fingers. once it had left her grip, she leaned against the table giuliana was sitting at. there was a hint of morbid curiosity to her gaze now, barely visible in the dim light of the bar. curious, how much deeper this woman could dig herself into deep shit with hani. if you wanted cooperation, threatening a lawyer with don’t waste my time was a deeply optimistic strategy. "oh yeah?" there was a smile that had formed on hani's lips, and it didn't reach her eyes the same way giuliana's smile was painfully performative and condescending. "please, do enlighten me. what are you gonna do to the organized crime investigator your family is paying to, you know, not investigate your particular case of organized crime?" hani was lucky that there was no one around them who could overhear those particular words, spoken quietly and downright dangerously patient. she was risking her neck for that goddamn family every damn day and one of their own being so blatantly disrespectful struck a wrong chord with her. "you could get me locked up, sure. but then i would talk. you could get me killed, definitely. but i'd hazard the guess that i'm worth more alive to whoever handles the actual business in your family than dead." hani clicked her tongue as she paused. "i'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, in case that wasn't obvious to you. if that money stops coming in, there won't be any more document deliveries straight to your hands. your family knows that, too. this is mutually beneficial. but sure, do go ahead and tell me how my humble request to not have my time wasted is so offensive to you."
she thrummed her fingertips against the tabletop once, before vaguely pointing at the letter in the woman's hands. "this isn't the only copy, by the way. in case you're thinking of doing something terribly intelligent like getting rid of it."
the smile faded from giuliana’s face first. not dramatically. not emotionally. just… gone. like a curtain being lowered. for the first time since this conversation started, she looked at hani without even the pretense of social softness. no polished amusement. no carefully measured condescension dressed up as charm. only calculation. quiet. cold. dangerous. the jazz still drifted softly through the bar around them, absurdly gentle against the tension coiling tighter at the table. hani spoke, and giuliana listened. every word. every threat hidden inside practicality. every reminder that they were both standing waist deep in the same poisoned water pretending the other one should feel guiltier about it. when hani finished, giuliana finally set the letter down between them with meticulous care. “there she is,” she said softly. not praise. recognition. her head tilted slightly as she studied hani now like she was seeing the actual shape of her for the first time beneath the badge and irritation and transactional resentment. “that’s the first honest thing you’ve said to me all night.” her fingers folded neatly atop the table. controlled. elegant. “you’re right. this is mutually beneficial.” a pause. “and you’re also right that someone higher up than me would absolutely prefer you alive while you’re still useful.” the wording hung there intentionally. while. then, finally, giuliana leaned forward slightly. “but let me clarify something before you mistake my patience for ignorance again.” her voice never rose. it didn’t need to. “i know exactly who you are. i know why certain people in this city decided it was safer to buy your cooperation than risk your independence.” her gaze sharpened. “and i know you’re smart enough to understand that makes you valuable, not untouchable.” a beat. “those are not the same thing.” the rain outside hit harder against the windows now, gold reflections shivering across the table between them. giuliana’s expression remained composed. almost unbearably so. “you think i’m disrespecting you because i’m speaking calmly,” she continued. “but what’s actually happening is that you walked over here expecting me to panic, and now you’re frustrated that i haven’t.” her eyes flicked once toward the letter. “multiple copies was smart,” she admitted. “genuinely. i’d have been disappointed otherwise.” then back to hani. steady. unflinching. “but if you’re going to stay in business with my family, you should learn something very quickly.” the faintest curve returned to her mouth, colder now than before. “we respond far better to leverage than ultimatums.” another pause. deliberate. “and threatening to talk if things stop benefiting you?” giuliana murmured. “cara, that’s not leverage. that’s a countdown clock.” silence settled between them for a second before she leaned back again, smooth as silk sliding over a blade. “now.” she nudged the letter lightly with one lacquered nail. “are we going to solve the problem…” her eyes lifted to hani’s again. “or are we going to keep measuring each other’s willingness to survive this conversation?”
Open Starter Character: Seojun Ryu + your muse location: honestly anywhere
He glanced at his watch, noting the time. He was on the move, particularly to head toward where Dulce was to finish her shift. If she had not known she was guarded, she would know now. He didn't do late, rather liked to be on time. however, of course someone had decided to either get in his way, or mistakenly end up on his path. "Move along now." he stated in a tone that seemed bored, but otherwise montone.
she had always thought men like him were the most dangerous kind. not the loud ones. not the reckless ones. but the ones who spoke like every word had already been weighed, measured, and approved by something colder than conscience. she noticed him before she fully registered him. tailored lines. stillness that didn’t belong in a public street. eyes that kept mapping the world like it might shift into something lethal if he blinked wrong. a man built for exits. and for making sure other people didn’t get them. his voice cut through the space before the moment could settle. move along now. bored. controlled. final. giuliana stopped exactly where she was. not because she had to. because she chose to. her heels clicked once against the pavement as she angled slightly, just enough to show she wasn’t intimidated, just enough to show she had noticed everything he was trying not to show. “that’s an interesting way to say hello,” she replied, calm and almost conversational, like they were discussing weather instead of intent. her gaze flicked briefly past him, then back. always past first. exits. lines of sight. angles. then him. “or are you one of those men who thinks tone replaces manners?” a faint pause. the kind that made people uncomfortable if they weren’t used to being watched while thinking. “because if you are, i’d recommend updating the training. it’s outdated.” she shifted her weight slightly, unhurried, still not moving away. “i’m not in your way,” giuliana added softly. “so either you’re lost… or you’re trying to be intimidating.” her eyes held his now. steady. assessing. “and if it’s the second one,” she said, voice dropping just a fraction colder, “you picked a very inconvenient person to practice on.”
"so...hypothetically speaking..." kitty's voice was smooth, an easy grin settled on her lips. she was certain giuliana was tired of her hypothetical questions. but kitty had a curiosity only a few people could resolve. and the girl next to her was her favorite. she had a brain that could solve most of her problems. hypothetical problems, of course. "if I were to get married, how long would I need to stay married to be entitled to part of the assets?" she took a seat next to the other, bringing a plate of snacks along with her. "just wondering..." @velourhush
giuliana didn’t look up immediately. that, in itself, was an answer of sorts. the kind that meant she was already regretting whatever direction this conversation was about to take. she flipped a page in the file in front of her with slow precision, then finally exhaled through her nose. “hypothetically,” she repeated flatly. a pause. “because of course it’s hypothetically.” only then did she glance sideways at kitty, expression unreadable in that familiar way that usually meant she was either mildly entertained or preparing to stop someone from making a legally irreversible mistake. “first of all,” she said, setting her pen down, “you don’t become entitled to anything just because you got bored enough to sign a document with witnesses.” she leaned back slightly in her chair. “this isn’t a reward system. it’s a contract. and depending on what jurisdiction you’re trying to emotionally scam, the timeline alone won’t save you.” her gaze narrowed a fraction. “why are we discussing marital asset division at…” she glanced at her watch without needing to, “whatever time it is, kitty.” a beat. then, more pointedly, “and before you answer, no. you cannot just see what happens and hope it resolves itself in your favor. that is not a legal strategy. that is gambling with paperwork.” she reached for her espresso, taking a slow sip. then, almost casually, “also, if this is about a specific person, i need you to stop calling it hypothetical before i start charging you for creative writing.”
"Shut up." Without missing a beat, Nicky throws the pen right back at her.
Brows pinched in thought, he listens to Giuliana a second too long before the blood pools unpleasantly in his skull, forcing him upright. She might be right. She probably is right. But he can't move past this: "Yeah, well, in case you ain't noticed, there's already blood in the water."
In this moment, Nicky is reminded of one very clear fact -- it is a privilege, when the safest place is beside your family. And when you're a Santoro, you often feel spoiled for choice. But when one voice goes quiet, when one chair stays empty, it is felt immediately. Like a missing tooth your tongue keeps finding.
"Comparta-what?" For a second, Nicky just looks at her. The city lights behind Ciuliana make her look a mystical figure, all shadowed eyes, long streaks of amber sharpening every stillness in her, like she belonged in a church window instead of an office.
"Look, I dunno what the fuck the difference is, and I know I ain't got a degree, but whatever this comparta-penta-ponto-shit is..." A sigh. "Forget it." Nicky couldn't put it into words, but he could tell whatever Giuliana was doing couldn't exactly be healthy either. "You know what I'd say about you? I'd say, you're the least emotional woman I've ever met. And trust me, that's no good either."
giu caught the pen without even looking up from her file. that, more than anything, said enough about how often this happened. she set it down neatly on the desk like it had never been thrown at her in the first place. “blood in the water,” she repeated quietly. not disagreement. not agreement either. just the kind of echo that meant she was turning it over in her head and finding the shape of it useful. her gaze lifted to him again, sharper now. “you’re not wrong.” a pause. that alone was never comforting coming from her. she leaned back in her chair slightly, lighter clicking once between her fingers. “but you’re also not thinking far enough ahead.” her eyes flicked briefly toward the window, rift valley sprawled out like a living thing — indifferent and hungry — then back to him. “blood in the water doesn’t just attract sharks, nicky.” her voice stayed calm. controlled. “it changes how the whole ocean moves.” a beat. at his attempt at compartmentalizing, something almost like amusement passed through her expression, but it didn’t soften anything. “compartmentalizing,” she corrected, flat. “and don’t try to pronounce it again like that. it hurts me personally.” then, quieter, more precise. “it means you take what you can’t fix and you put it somewhere it won’t interfere with what you can.” she tilted her head slightly at him. “you, on the other hand, put it in your chest and dare it to behave.” that was the difference. not insult. observation. when he called her the least emotional woman he’d ever met, giuliana actually paused. for a fraction of a second, something colder slid into place behind her eyes. not anger. calculation. then she stood. slowly. heels clicking against the floor as she rounded the desk. “no,” she said simply. she stopped just a few feet from him, looking down at where he sat like he was a problem she was considering how to solve. “you don’t get to misdiagnose me because you don’t like the treatment.” a beat. her voice dropped slightly. “i feel everything. i just don’t let it drive.” she leaned in just enough that her presence filled the space between them without touching him. “that’s what you keep missing.” a pause. then, softer, but not kinder. “emotional doesn’t mean loud.” her gaze held his. steady. unblinking. “it just means you’re losing control of it.” she straightened again, smoothing her sleeve like the conversation had already been filed away. “now get up,” she added, tone returning to business. “you’re either going to eat something, sleep, or pretend to be useful somewhere else in this building before you start lecturing me about emotional stability again.”
"oh no. i promise i didn't find inner peace or anything like that. even if i did, i wouldn't be throwing in healthy foods." not when she knew her sister wouldn't even eat them. "the day i decide to add anything healthy into what i make is the day hell freezes over." and she meant that too. she wouldn't be adding anything like that in.not unless she requested it. "i just wanted to see my sister. that and i figured you probably didn't bring anything for lunch with you." she pointed out. plus, it gave gianna an excuse to leave her house for a little bit. something she didn't do a lot. not unless it was to go out and take photographs. "noted. how about this weekened? when you're not busy with work. could even do a movie night at my place?" she suggested. how long had it even been since they had last done a movie night? years maybe? hearing her last question, she was silent for a moment. "as okay as i can be." honesty in her voice. "i uh, talked to antonio a few days ago." and that had left her feeling emotional too."
the room shifted before giuliana’s expression did. it was subtle, the kind of silence that tightened rather than faded. the city outside the windows kept moving, indifferent. inside, everything narrowed to gianna’s last sentence. antonio. giuliana didn’t speak immediately. instead, she set the crab rangoon down very carefully on the edge of her desk, like sudden movements might make something worse. then she leaned back slightly, studying her sister the way she studied court documents when she was deciding which line would ruin someone. “mm,” she said at last. not a question. not approval. just acknowledgement that she had heard it. her gaze stayed on gianna. “define talked,” giuliana added calmly, voice even, almost conversational. a pause. then, quieter, sharper underneath the control. “because depending on the version of that sentence, i either need more information… or i need to start making phone calls.” she reached for her espresso, took a slow sip, and only then looked away. like she was giving gianna space without ever actually relaxing her focus. the movie night suggestion lingered in the air between them. giuliana didn’t dismiss it, didn’t accept it either. it just sat there, postponed by something heavier. “and before you answer,” she continued, tone flattening again into businesslike precision, “no, you’re not as okay as you can be. that’s what people say when they’ve already decided not to elaborate.” her eyes flicked back to gianna. not soft. not harsh. just direct. “so try again,” giuliana said. “but this time, don’t edit it for my comfort.”
"if you think she's the park with impulse control issues, you should meet my sister," yujin remarked. he was suppressing this ever-present urge to block lines of sight. maybe it was a habit grown from too many nights waiting for a path to clear towards a hit, he found eyes far more of a threat than hands, knives, fists. at least he knew how to disarm a problem when it was charging him. when giuliana's gaze shifted towards the toddler, he had no way of preventing her from it, nor any justification for trying. instead, he swallowed down some of his obvious discomfort, but was awfully aware that she would've seen him do so, too.
at the knife comment, he snapped like an elastic band, immediately looking back to his blissfully unaware toddler to see if she had heard. he never understood how some of the santoros could speak of violence so bluntly, whilst yujin at least attempted to wrap it in irony, in feigned nonchalance. maybe that had always been the difference between him and them, though. for yujin, brutality had made a home under his skin over the years. he imagined, for giuliana, it had always sat somewhere in her blood. "look, if you want me to pull a knife on you later, you only have to ask," he spoke dryly. it wasn't a threat. god no, of course it wasn't a threat. it was a redirection. from something that he truly did and had done ( be this nightmarish creature waiting to strike ), to a joke, a hypothetical. "i just gotta get her home first."
she had read his decision to be here back to him as though they were symptoms of an ever-opened wound, but she'd been wrong on some of it.
"i am paranoid, actually. too paranoid. and too selfish. but she wanted to build sandcastles, so we are building sandcastles." and yet, with that, he had wandered over to the sandpit and had started gathering up the plastic tat that luna had forsaken in favor of her bucket and spade. like he was getting ready to head out. "though i'd love to know what the rumors are saying about me these days."
she watched him for a long moment after that. not the joke, she’d heard worse things wrapped in worse smiles from worse men. not even the immediate snap of his attention back to luna, protective in that reflexive, almost painful way. no, it was the correction. i am paranoid, actually. too paranoid. and too selfish. there it was. the honesty he tried to bury under sarcasm before it could make him look like something other than what he was. her expression shifted subtly. not softening exactly, but adjusting. like recalibrating a calculation. “mm,” she hummed quietly when he started collecting plastic toys, crouched beside his daughter like the world didn’t know his name. “see, that’s the problem with you, park.” she stepped closer to the edge of the sandbox, careful not to intrude, hands resting loosely in the pockets of her coat. “you think those things are contradictions.” a pause. “they’re not. they’re just ingredients.” her eyes flicked briefly to luna, then back to him. “paranoid keeps you alive. selfish keeps you from dying for the wrong people.” her head tilted slightly. “you’ve simply never been taught how to balance them properly.” a faint breath of amusement escaped her at his knife comment, though it didn’t quite reach laughter. “if i wanted you to pull a knife on me, yujin, i wouldn’t need to ask,” she said calmly. “i’d just make threats you wouldn't like very much. luckily for you though, you haven't done anything that warrants my need to.” she crouched then, not fully entering the sandpit, just lowering herself enough to be closer to luna’s level without disrupting her world. the child glanced up briefly — curious, unafraid — before returning to her castle. that alone said more about yujin’s daughter than anything else did. then giuliana’s gaze lifted again. “as for the rumors…” she exhaled softly, like she was deciding how much truth was worth the entertainment value. “you’re efficient. quiet. loyal in the way dogs are loyal before they learn they can bite through the leash.” a beat. “and lately, people are saying you’re getting soft.” her eyes flicked to him again, sharper now, testing. “which is always what they say right before they start underestimating someone.” she straightened slightly, brushing sand off nothing in particular just to have something to do with her hands. “you’re not here because you’re selfish,” she added, tone matter of fact. “you’re here because you decided the risk of being seen with her is still smaller than the risk of not being with her at all.” a pause. “that’s not selfishness, park.” her mouth curved faintly. “that’s math.” then, quieter — almost offhand, but not careless, “and for what it’s worth… anyone who thinks having a child makes you weak has never had anything worth protecting.”