[violentcnds]

#𝚅𝙸𝙾𝙻𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙲𝙽𝙳𝚂 : a dependent multi-muse for moblandhq.

𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎. intro. visage. connections. pinterest. 𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚓𝚊𝚑 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚎𝚛. intro. visage. connections. pinterest. 𝚓𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚣.  intro.  visage.  connections.  pinterest. 𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚖 𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢.  intro.  visage.  connections.  pinterest.

[fclsehearted]

Rosa slumped back against the seat, the leather cool against her skin. That kiss had rattled her more than she wanted him to know—more than she could keep from showing, maybe. Her laugh came out half a scoff, half a sigh. “Ay, you… you make it sound like a poem. I lie because I love. You should write greeting cards, Javier.” She waved the sandal in her hand for emphasis, like she was conducting some invisible orchestra. “Hallmark would eat you up.”

Her eyes found him again, not sharp this time but bleary, a little too open. “But don’t… don’t think that means I’m stupid. Or happy to—what is it—play blind little wife while you spin bedtime stories. I’m not asking for every detail, Dios knows. But lies? They sit in my gut. Heavy. Tell me something is going on and that you can't give me details, but don't pretend there's nothing happening. Not when I can tell here—” her finger lightly touched the crease between his brows, "And here—" a palm against his chest.

She leaned in, catching his chin between two fingers with mock precision, though her touch lingered softer than the joke. “I don’t scare easy.” A beat, then softer, like the thought had tripped out of her. “Maybe I looked like I did. Last time. I… I was afraid then, I’ll admit it. Afraid of what it meant. Of what it said about us.” Her lips twisted, bitter and wry all at once. “But I’m not that girl anymore. I’ve changed. Haven’t I?”

The sandal slipped from her grip into her lap as she slouched back again, words slurring just slightly at the edges now. “So don’t waste the effort dressing things up for me. Give me silence if you must. But not… pretty lies. I can smell those from a mile away.”

Her voice fell to almost a whisper, her gaze turned out toward the dark stretch of sand beyond the windshield. “You say you love me. Then let me carry some of it with you. Even if it’s just a corner. Otherwise…” her eyes fluttered shut briefly, the words drifting out like smoke, “…otherwise you’ll bury yourself before I can even dig you out.”

[violentcnds]

the world outside the car feels pared down to a handful of sounds: the soft crash of waves folding over themselves, a horn echoing somewhere far out on the water, the fleeting rush of two cars peeling around the highway before vanishing into the canyon. the rest is stillness, heavy and pressing, the kind that makes his own breathing sound too loud in his ears. he lets it hang there for a moment, staring through the windshield before his gaze drifts sideways.

he reaches across, brushing the hair back from rosa’s face with a hand that trembles more than he lets on. the motion is gentle, practiced. it’s what he always does when he’s trying to smooth something impossible. for a long moment he just studies her: the slope of her cheek, the line of her jaw, the tiny freckles he knows by memory. he remembers nights out on the pacific, mornings he spent thinking of her on foreign beaches and blood-raw nights. they’d barely spent a night apart these last two years.

“you always think you see more than i give you, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice low enough it nearly disappears under the hum of waves. “and maybe you do, maybe you read me better than i like. but there are some things, rosa…” he trails off, thumb brushing lightly against her temple, “…some things you don’t deserve to carry. not for me.”

he wants to tell her everything—how he lost his temper, how the blow went too far, how the body was hidden and made to look like the work of someone else, but the words die on his tongue. to say them out loud is to let them live, and he’s not ready to hand over that weight.

“wives don’t need to know everything their husbands do,” he echoes once more. the words scrape out of him rough, heavy with the kind of finality that doesn’t invite argument. there’s no smile to soften them, no trace of jest because he believes it’s the only way to protect her. “you know what they need to know? that they’re loved. that their man will walk through fire before letting anything touch them.”

[bulletwnds]

her gaze was fixed on the high rollers that were hawk eyed onto the horses and jokeys who were getting ready for the race. there was a lot to be said about how someone's body language gave away, even more when they had so much on the line. it didn't matter in the end, majority of them would leave with their heads hanging low and the only people who'd come on top were the ones pulling cords and greasing palms. while she wasn't fully on the in, she knew the riley's enough to know that something was in the works.

"i've come to keep good company with my edge." the redhead said despite taking the glass he offered in hand. "are they staring? that spell hasn't worked on you if you've noticed where everyone else's gaze has been." emma teased, lifting the glass to her lips.

there were only a select few she'd blindly accept a drink from, and he was one of those people. she trusted him with her life, as she did most of the riley's collectively.

she kept her features in check as she leaned into him but there was a small lift to the corners of her lips. "so you're telling me that i'm in for a good show." a mess of upset individuals at the scales being tipped, or influenced, in another direction. there was something about chaos that always made her giddy.

"i had my assumptions but i'm happy to know that there's been something behind the works. i do enjoy a surprise."

[violentcnds]

the grin he gives her is quick, sharp, the kind that always seems half-born of mischief. “that’s exactly why i had to come over, red. leave you standing here on your own, and some fool might get ideas. best i stake my claim before you’ve got a line at your feet.” liam tipped his glass in her direction, but there was some weight tucked beneath the joke. he’d seen the way men’s eyes followed her in the derry, the way they leaned too close at the tables or angled for her attention like moths burning themselves out against a flame. it was useful enough when ensnaring someone attempting to cheat the tables, but something about it lately dug hot under his skin every time he noticed it.

he leaned an elbow against the rail, content to watch the track and the crowd as though neither mattered. “oh, you’ll have a show all right,” he said finally, voice pitched low, steady with the kind of confidence that didn’t need to be dressed up. his chin lifted toward the sleek brown coat being led by her jockey to the paddock, a single gesture marked with a grin that widened when his eyes flicked back to her. “that’s the one worth watching,” he murmured with absolute surety. he and cormac had done their part in making sure their family took home the prize with this gun runner.

the air inside the pavilion suddenly began to buzz a little louder, thick with the fever of money about to change hands. the restless stamp of hooves and the sudden rise of voices signaled the horses were lining up. “everyone in here’s praying the odds tilt their way, but by the end of the night, we’ll be walking out with pockets heavy enough to make a priest blush.” the mischief in him flares brighter. “and who knows—maybe once i’ve collected my share, you’ll finally let me get you that dinner.”

[bcautifulnightmarc]

She knew he was watching. Of course she did. Liam’s reputation clung to him like cheap cologne, broken hearts wherever he went, the syndicate’s muscle flexing just to impress her. Isabel tilted her chin, accepting a champagne flute from a waiter without glancing back. She let him watch, let him ache. Across the crowded pavilion, Isabel’s laugh cut through the air, bright and deliberate, aimed just enough in his direction to sting.

She turned away before he could catch her eye, time and time again. Until she didn’t. Her gaze eventually meeting his own, holding it briefly, before averting it once again. The silk of her dress whispering against her fiancé’s tailored sleeve, whilst hugging her every curve. A knowing smirk played upon her glossed lips when the picture perfect couple walked past him - but it was quickly replaced by a gasp upon the unexpected touch on her arm. The sudden pull whisking her away from prying eyes, before she even had a chance to push him away. Or so she told herself.

She knew his reputation, the Riley syndicate’s sharpest blade, charming his way through casinos and bedrooms alike. Yet here she stood, toeing the line between propriety and ruin. Her father’s warning echoed in her mind. But Liam’s gaze held hers, molten and reckless, and she felt alive in ways her diamond engagement ring never allowed — not that she’d ever admit.

Isabel didn’t pull away from his touch. Not yet. The scent of bourbon clung to him, mixing with her Chanel No. 5. She leaned in just slightly, whispering just below a breath. “When are you going to stop pining after what you can’t have?” It was something between a warning, a challenge and a dare or maybe all at once. She blinked her lashes at him once. “And what kind of life is it that I want according to you, Liam?”

It was all just a game. The same one they’d been playing for so long. But today, she was going to test just how much bite there was behind all that barking of his. “Let’s let destiny decide. If my horse wins, I’ll celebrate with you. If not… - take it as a sign and you’ll leave me alone. Deal?”

[violentcnds]

the sound that slips out of him is soft, more breath than laugh. “oh, pining, am i?” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up as if he's a amused at a private joke. “funny, that—if i’m the one pining, what does that make you then? you’ve been walkin’ through the derry’s doors near every night, flashing that diamond on your finger, struttin’ in like you own the place…”

his hand comes to rest at the hollow of her throat, steady, thumb dragging slow along her jaw as though testing how far she’ll let him go. he doesn’t press, doesn’t rush—just claims the space like it’s his by right. “if that fella 'a yours had you happy, you wouldn’t be coming down to the casino, whispering warnings in my ear about your coppers goon squad raidin' our place. wouldn’t be risking your father’s career, or that good name of yours, just to keep the derry standing. no, you don’t do that unless some part of you wants to. admit it, love, you enjoy the thrill i bring to your life.”

his grin widens, easy and dangerous all at once, because danger is the thing that makes him sharp. he looks at the diamond, then back up at her mouth, no shame in the way his gaze lingers. “sure, i'll play along” he murmurs, voice low, steady with a man who knows the stakes, knows that at any moment they could be discovered in this little corner of theirs beneath the stands. maeve would have his head if he fucked with the business in any way. “but, let’s be honest—win or lose, you and i both know this'll end the same way it always does. you’ll find yourself back at the derry before long. you always do.”

[fclsehearted]

featuring: kentaro tanaka ( @violentcnds )

Zara found Kentaro exactly where she expected him: calm as ever, the picture of composure while the rest of the Derby buzzed like a beehive on fire. She slipped into the space beside him, fanning herself with her program and tilting her head so the brim of her hat cast her grin into shadow.

“Well, if it isn’t the king of Club Eden, looking like he’s about to win the Derby himself,” she teased. “Who you bettin' on?”

She let the question hang only a beat before lowering her voice, conspiratorial. “Between you and me, I heard a little birdy say the Rileys and the Walkers are planning something. No one could tell me what—just that they’ve both got mischief in their pockets today.” She clicked her tongue softly, feigning disappointment. “And here I thought the horses were supposed to be the only ones racing.”

Zara smirked, leaning back against the rail as though it were all just chatter to pass the time. “Anyway, I figured I’d pass it along. That way, when chaos breaks out, you can say you had advance notice from your most charming source.”

[violentcnds]

kentaro’s gaze flicked toward zara, a measured glance that lingered just long enough to catch the curl of her smirk before sliding past her to the track. “a bet?” he repeated, voice even, almost flat, as though the idea itself bored him. his hand brushed the cigarette pack in his pocket but didn’t draw it out.

when she lowered her voice, though, his attention sharpened. riley’s, walker’s. he’d already been circling the edge of suspicion all afternoon, and now the shape of the day began to shift. money on a horse seemed like a child’s game compared to what she was hinting at. a fight between the two of them was more valuable than any payout the bookies could offer.

his lips curved upward, but it wasn’t quite a smile—more the kind of expression a man wore when he’d already decided the game wasn’t worth playing. “if a little birdy whispered in your ear that they're up to something, then i’d rather not take the chance and lose us any money,” he said evenly, eyes narrowing on the track. "if they're all planning something, it's gotta be the race."

he shifted his weight against the rail, finally sliding a cigarette out from the pack and slotting it between his fingers. “unless, of course, you can find out what's really going on. then maybe i’d think twice.” the words carried a lazy edge, but his glance toward her was sharp, testing, as though he expected she had more to give than just rumor. “otherwise, i’ll save my wager"

[fclsehearted]

featuring: kentaro tanaka ( @violentcnds )

The derby was loud in the way only money could be loud—cheers that carried like brass horns, champagne laughter clinking too high, and the staccato shuffle of bills changing hands. Rosa slipped away from the Gallardo box on the pretense of wanting a drink, though really she wanted a quieter corner to breathe.

She found it at the far end of the bar, ordering a gimlet with the kind of ease that said she knew her way around liquor as well as she knew her way around a stage. The bartender had just slid the glass in front of her when movement caught her eye. Kentaro Tanaka. Not the kind of man you “accidentally” stumbled across—men like him never blended into the scenery.

Rosa’s brow lifted, just enough to acknowledge she recognized him. “Mr. Tanaka,” she said, her tone balanced between cordial and careful, voice pitched low so it wouldn’t carry beyond the two of them. She lifted her glass in a polite salute before taking the first sip. “Didn’t think the races were your scene. But I suppose it’s everyone’s scene today, isn’t it?”

Her smile curved, practiced and pleasant, but her eyes were sharper. She’d sung under his roof once or twice, dipped her voice in Eden’s smoke for an evening or two—but that was different. That was performance. This? This was meeting, unpadded.

“Crowds can hide a lot." She raised her glass, almost as a toast to him "But not everyone blends in, you know?”

[violentcnds]

kentaro didn’t startle at her voice, but his gaze shifted sharp and quick, landing on her like a man measuring whether she was friend or threat. rosa alvarez. of course. he remembers watching her at the eden. he's even seen some of her pictures—everyone had, heard that voice of hers curl like smoke through the cinema. though truth be told, he couldn’t recall her in anything of note recently. still, standing here now, she was a knockout, polished and poised in a way that drew eyes without effort.

his gaze flicked past her shoulder, scanning the stands with quiet calculation. her husband had a reputation. only when he was certain the man wasn’t lurking nearby did he return his attention fully to rosa, expression unreadable but edged with the wariness.

“ms. alvarez,” he returned, just enough formality to remind her he knew exactly who she was tied to. his tone stayed level, steady, though a flicker of tension pulled tight at his jaw. “you’re right. the track draws everyone. even men like me.”

he let the corner of his mouth lift into something that wasn’t quite a smile as he lit a cigarette, the flame briefly catching in his eyes before the smoke fogged around him. “crowds hide plenty. secrets, motives, mistakes.” he tapped ash into the tray at the bar, studying her with a patience that pressed rather than relented. “but some faces, no matter where they stand, don’t ever disappear into the noise.”

he took a drag, slow and unhurried, before adding, quieter: “question is... what are you hoping no one sees you doing over here? i hear your husband likes to keep you on a tight leash.”

[fiftyshadesbabyyeahh-deactivate]

[violentcnds]

for : @softdeceit

the noise of the crowd carried more than the heat ever could—bets called out over the din, laughter sharp as coins hitting the table, and the restless energy of men who couldn’t stand still. liam cut through the hustle and bustle like he owned the place, a cocktail in hand. he spotted emma not far off, and there was no mistaking the pull that brought him her way. she wasn’t a riley by name, but emma’s loyalty had a weight to it—enough that liam held her near the same place as kin. besides, he’d circled her long enough to know the sight of her was worth more than the wagers being thrown around.

sliding in close, he offered her a glass freshly poured, pressing the cool rim into her palm with an easy grin. “here... something to keep the edge off. you’ve got half the crowd staring already, might as well give them a picture worth remembering, red.”

he lingered a beat, eyes tracing her face before leaning in just enough to make sure only she could hear the next part. “funny thing about these races… folk think it’s all legs and speed, but there’s always a hand nudging the scales. you can make a stallion stumble if you know where to push.” his words were soft, careful, edged with the kind of teasing smile, but there was something deliberate under it.

“'course, you didn’t hear that from me,” he added with a low chuckle, raising his own glass in a mock toast. “but, i reckon you’ve got the sense to see where the odds really lie.”

[violentcnds]

for : @bcautifulnightmarc

the heat clung like a second skin, the kind that made starched collars feel like nooses and sent beads of sweat running down the backs of men in their best suits. the derby hadn’t even started yet, but the air was already thick with the hum of wagers, the clink of glasses, the riley’s laughter carrying sharp above the crowd. they'd dove into the liquor a little earlier than most.

liam cut through the noise with his usual ease, a wolf at a masquerade. he hadn’t been looking for her—at least that’s what he’d tell himself—but his eyes found isabel all the same. draped in her father’s shadow, a glittering prize at the arm of her fiancée. just as polished, just as untouchable as ever.

but when her gaze snagged his across the distance, the rest of the crowd blurred.

liam didn’t hesitate. careful steps carried him closer, slipping through the riley’s orbit without drawing attention. when he reached her side, it was with the kind of quiet boldness that only came from practice. fingers brushed her arm, just enough pressure to pull her away from watchful eyes.

“when are ya gonna stop playing the dutiful daughter,” he murmured low, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth, “and the picture-perfect fiancée? admit it, love... you don’t want that kinda life.”

it wasn’t serious—nothing in his tone ever was—but his eyes lingered on her in a way that betrayed more. something drew him to her, and yeah, he wanted to win the game they’d been playing. he wanted her, simple as that.

[bulletwnds]

the dress was meant to distract. it hugged her curves and nearly suffocated the life out of her with the tight bodice and that accentuated the swell of her chest each time she inhaled.

the horses were the last thing that held her interest, more focused on who was speaking to who and who was getting happier as opposed to those who were getting angrier.

she could tell the difference between a winning man over a losing one any day.

"this town is built on deceit and rot." she hummed as she peered down at her drink and back at the man.

"there's a lot of nice shiny things to distract but if you look too long, or too closely, it isn't a pretty sight." but it was their town and that had to mean something in the end.

"i'm guessing you've been losing?" perhaps it was a lucky guess. but she was going off of the tired and distressed look— though her true attention was on the group of men a distance away who were in the throws of laughter.

[violentcnds]

kentaro’s eyes flicked over her, just briefly, the cut of the dress catching his attention before his gaze lifted back to her face. recognition clicked—the redhead from the derry, tied up with the riley’s.

her words hung between them, sharp as glass under velvet, and he rolled a cigarette between his fingers before tucking it behind his ear. “something like that,” he said finally, voice low and rough, the corner of his mouth ticking upward into a grin, though it looked more like a grimace. she meant bets, but his head went elsewhere, to his little boy—losing was a word he didn’t gamble with lightly.

he leaned back slightly, scanning the track where the horses snorted restlessly in their gates, though his shoulders were tight, wound. “this town’s full of distractions. some people dress theirs up better than others.” he gave her a sidelong look, not unkind, but measured, like he was waiting to see what she’d really come for.

a moment passed, and he exhaled through his nose, soft and tired. “you're from the derry, right?” kentaro's been in there enough times that it was nearly impossible not to notice her. especially with that hair. his fearless leader had warned him enough times not to venture into enemy territory. but, lately, he was willing to take the risks. "didn't think they let any of you out."

[hiddenscrts-deactivated20251105]

After all these years, Leticia still hadn't quite come to terms with why the derby was a thing, or why it seemed to be both a fashion show and a sporting event all wrapped up in one unpleasant bow. If it were up to her, she wouldn't be in attendance at all, would have found countless reasons to do anything but have to suffer through another one of these, but this year's exhibition offered up something different. In the wake of that Halperin boy's body being found, she was hopeful that with enough mingling, she could pry some rumors out of enough people to see just what the running assumption was.

Before heading for the east wing, she'd decided to just make her rounds through some of the other sections first, which was how she found herself stumbling upon Kentaro as he spoke. It appeared as though he wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, possibly just expressing his frustrations with this sort of event out loud. Leti didn't blame him, and he wasn't wrong by any means, but the entire city was rot at this point. Or maybe that was simply her not trusting many people, not entirely anyway? Either way, she cleared her throat to signal her presence before she shrugged one of her shoulders nonchalantly. "You don't like rot?" She questioned curiously.

"I'm not a fan of these derbies either, to be honest. Never understood glitz and glamour just to watch stallions run around a track, yet every year, here we all are." It was foolish, really, but they tended to traditions, she supposed. "But speaking of seeing what's really going on, is everything okay? You look a bit rough, maybe even unkempt is a better word for it."

[violentcnds]

his head turns at the sound of her voice, recognition flickering across his features almost instantly. leticia davis. he knew her place, knew her family, and while the tanaka's and the walker's hadn’t clashed, that didn’t mean he trusted her—or anyone. not anymore. not since ren.

a thin smile tugged at his mouth, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. he drew on the cigarette between his fingers, the ember glowing faintly before he exhaled slow. “rot’s everywhere in this city. derby just makes it easier to see who’s polishing the surface and who’s letting it show.” his tone was mild, almost conversational, but there was a guarded weight underneath.

he gave a soft huff, brushing a hand over his jaw where one of the cuts still lingered. “rough’s one word for it. comes with the work, doesn’t it? not everyone here has the luxury of showing up clean.” his gaze lingered on her for a beat too long, not unfriendly, but sharp enough to make it clear he was measuring her. “but i’m fine, ma'am. just another day at the track.”

[ovrdrivess]

"don't take this the wrong way, but you look like you just went ten rounds with that horse over there." stevie sidled up to him, all casual like she always was - the swagger of a woman who actually had a say rather than one that followed orders. and kentaro was one of the people who gave out those orders.

she obnoxiously chewed on some gum and leaned against a nearby pillar. "i figure we all see what's underneath. even the ones who act like they don't see it. they're just fooling themselves - all part of human nature. 'if i didn't see it, it didn't happen' sorta schtick." stevie gestured her hands in the air making quotation marks. she stopped and paused for a moment, then glanced over at him. "besides, the rot makes a lotta money, kentaro. s'why we're all here, right? gotta embrace it."

she didn't pretend to understand the inner workings of his mind. the fact was, she didn't get paid enough to, and she doubted he'd want her poking around anyway, so leaving well alone suited her fine. still, stevie would stick around for the time being, put a bet on maybe, try her luck.

her gum popped loudly before she spoke again. "who's your money on anyway? or haven't you decided yet?"

[violentcnds]

kentaro huffed out something caught between a laugh and a sigh, the kind that scratched low in his chest. his hand went up to his collar, tugging it like the air around him was too tight, and he cast stevie a look sharp enough to make up for the rest of his disheveled state. “ten rounds, huh? horse might’ve been kinder.” he rubbed at the cut near his cheek, the sting waking him up more than the whiskey had.

he listened, let her chew through her gum and her words, eyes fixed on the track but ears tuned close. “you’re not wrong. people lap up the rot same way they lap up champagne. maybe that’s the trick, right? don’t look too close, just take your cut and smile.” he tapped his cigarette against the railing, still unlit, just something to do with his hands. “these riley’s, the gallardo’s, whoever else thinks they own this town... look at 'em" he pointed with his chin towards the stands. "they smile across the boxes, raise their glasses, act like they’re gods on a stage, but i know better.”

he finally shifted to face her, softer at the edges for her sake, the smile tired but real. “as for my bet,” he paused, like the thought lingered longer than it should, “haven’t thrown it down just yet. with all these low lives here i don't know if i completely trust this race.” he smirked faintly, chin tipping toward her. “what about you, stevie? gonna test your luck, or just let the rot play their games?”

[rcbinpalmer]

"Very poetic," Robin mused before they could entirely stop themselves. In a way, it all reminded them of the club, more focus on people watching than what was actually happening. At least here, there was no focus required on service; just a freedom to observe everything around them. In truth, she couldn't resist the same idea that Kentaro had voiced aloud.

It always unsettled her, being too close to anyone attached to other syndicates. She'd be a fool not to at least recognize the players who mattered most. At least, here in public, there was a certain sense of safety, and perhaps even if Robin recognized others, they might not know Robin.

"You could say that about anywhere in Los Angeles. All shiny and... gilded until you scratch the surface." Sipping from a soda bottle, Robin leaned against a nearby post. "I only hope you don't mean the stands themselves. If there's rot there, I think we're all in trouble."

[violentcnds]

the man let out a low sound that might have been a laugh, though it carried no trace of humor. his shoulders shifted, restless, eyes darting across the stands like he expected the whole crowd to turn on him at any moment. “the rot’s everywhere,” he murmured at last, voice rough and distant, as if he wasn’t sure if he was speaking to robin or just letting the thought slip into the air. “some places just hide it better. paint it gold, sell tickets, pour champagne over the cracks. doesn’t change what’s underneath. never does.”

his gaze drifted back to robin, narrowing just enough to suggest something tugged at the edge of recognition. familiar, maybe, though he couldn’t place it—and that was reason enough to tread carefully. he slipped a cigarette between his lips, striking a match with steady hands, letting the flare of the flame throw his features into sharper relief as he sized them up. the quiet pull of smoke softened his tone, but the weight in his stare didn’t. “funny. you look like i ought to know you. who are you?”

[violentcnds]

the hollywood derby. liam steps into the race track, alongside the rest of his family, wearing a three-piece suit, no tie and and open collar. today, he’s set on making a bet, one he believes could make the riley's even richer.

[violentcnds]

the hollywood derby. javier is dressed in a black pinstripe suit paired with a crisp white tie patterned with small black polka dots. he’s considering putting money down on lady lace. arriving by his side is his wife, rosa, though the tension between them is clear enough to notice.

[violentcnds]

the hollywood derby. kentaro arrives in a black suit paired with a white shirt left unbuttoned at the collar. a few fresh cuts mark his face, hints of recent trouble he hasn’t bothered to hide. though, he might place a bet before the day is over, his attention lingers elsewhere.

[violentcnds]

the thing about the race track was that everyone's eyes were always on something else. that was the point, wasn't it? the moguls with their cigars and cocktails, the starlets draped in silk and diamonds, the bookies scribbling odds like gospel, and the rich owners showing off their derby horses and jockeys.

kentaro didn't look as though he belonged. his jacket hung loose, his collar crooked, and there was a smear along his jaw that might've been blood or just the shadow of a fight he hadn't finished. he smelled faintly of whiskey and smoke, undercut with something harsher, like the bitter trace of a high he was chasing too far. he hadn't slept in two, maybe three days. the hours blurred, nights hollowed out by regret and a stomach turned sour from what he couldn't forget. he felt delirious.

kentaro lingered near peripherals of the track, half in shadow beneath the awning, his eyes moving restlessly to the boxes above, the betting windows, the shifting crowd along the trackside. not hunting. not even casing. just watching like a man who expected a bullet to come flying out of the stands.

“these people are always smiling, always shaking hands. thinking no one sees what’s underneath.” his jaw tightened, and he looked down at the cigarette, thumb rubbing the paper. he was muttering low, more to himself than anyone else, but the words slid out just clear enough to get caught by whoever lingered close. “there’s nothing but rot here.”