ofhighrises

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The more her current companion waxed on about the specifics of his personal unfamiliarity with the movie rental chain, the more Breslin's smile grew until she finally laughed and shook her head. "Okay, okay, I get it. I do still have my own Blockbuster card floating around in a box somewhere, maybe my dad's too," she mused, then shrugged and allowed him to begin what would surely be a scandalous draw of the deck.

Another laugh spilled from her lips, this time incredulous as she straightened and placed both palms flat on the table before leaning forward with raised eyebrows. "Well, that is certainly as dramatic as requested," she said, tone dropping to match his in mischievousness, "However, I don't think we can elope without the express permission of my wife, who very much expects me home sometime this evening," she finished, then offered him a dazzling smile. "Certainly would be something to make the news, though."

Zed let out a short, amused huff, tapping the deck of tarot cards against the table as he eyed her with mock offense. “Now, you and I both know I don’t look old enough to know what Blockbuster is. I have parents, you.” His smirk was sharp, teasing. “I mean, sure, I’ve read about it in the ancient texts—aka Reddit threads written by millennials in mourning—but let’s not go throwing around wild accusations.”

With a lazy flick of his wrist, he shuffled the cards, his grin turning downright devilish at her request. “Something salacious, huh? Bold. I like it. Alright, let’s see what the universe has in store.” He plucked a card from the deck, flipped it over, and made a show of slowly raising his brows.

“Well, well, well.” He leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Turns out, you’re about to have a scandalous, whirlwind affair with a mysterious, devastatingly charming man—who also happens to be reading your fortune right now.” He sighed, feigning great regret. “Look, I don’t make the rules. But if the cards demand a torrid love story, who am I to deny fate?”

He tapped the card for emphasis. “What do you say, Should we elope now and save ourselves the suspense . ”

[ofhighrises]

A look of gentle fondness crossed Breslin's features, softening her expression completely as she listened. Her life roared past her in a blur before she'd even stopped to consider the idea of children, and some part of her lingered on the thought occasionally, of what might have been if her life took a completely different route.

"I lost my dad a couple years ago," she started, arms folding across her chest as though to contain the sometimes still too-keen edge of grief over the loss. "He was pretty young when I was born and he raised me alone, so we were always pretty close. I can't-- I don't-- your situation is different, I'm guessing--" She stumbled over her words, a blush creeping onto her cheeks, but she pressed anyway, "--but even as an adult, if he could call me again now, I'd take it in a heartbeat. She might miss you too."

The gentle change of subject to the airing of her dirty laundry via text throughout the entire city caused the pink on her cheeks to darken as her posture stiffened, the arms across her torso tightening as she shifted from foot to foot. "I'm... a little in shock still," she answered with a tight smile.

Fatih's dazed, dreamy look turns into a gentle fondness but his arms stay against his chest and his eyes remain out in front of him instead of making eye contact with the mayor. "No ma'am." The bartender's smile is almost bashful, vulnerable; a way for him to turn off who he used to be and transition back into his role. "The older I get, I realize that empty nest syndrome is real. When my daughter was seven, after her adoption was official, we took her to Disney, my ex and I -I'm trying not to be the overbearing dad, you know? But I still want to call her every five minutes even though she's an adult."

Finally, he brings his dark eyes to Breslin's. "Thank you for your concern, mayor. Are you okay?"

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"Politician, criminal, sometimes they go hand in hand," she joked with a shrug, then went still and raised her hands. "I'm not. I promise. It was a joke," she said, the words tumbling out as some of the color drained from her face momentarily before it was replaced by a quick flash of a blush. Breslin carded a hand through her hair and shook her head. What a time to make that sort of joke.

Grateful for a change of subject, the mayor moved a few feet to the side and stooped slightly to pull out a crate of small prizes. "Lets see... a knock-off Beanie Baby holding a little stuffed heart, a red kazoo, some bracelets--very in right now if you're a Taylor Swift fan, I think--and oh, slap bracelets--" she said, each word spoken with dramatic false-enthusiasm. "Take your pick, I guess."

Romeo nodded with a smile as the other told him about her soulmate. "Damn, lucky her, no ring toss duty." He laughed as he spoke. "Though, manning this booth looks exciting." He continued to poke fun at the others mandatory community service. "I thought you only got stuck doing community service if you were a criminal." He said teasingly, tossing his last ring at the bottle and watching it bounce off. "Ahh, luck, that explains it." He said eyeing down the mechanisms of the game as much as he could. "Luck has traditionally not been my strong suit." He motioned towards the fallen ring.

"Did I win anything?" He asked with a chuckle. While not entirely sure what he'd do with a cheap, mass produced teddy bear there was still a glimmer of hope that he'd find someone to share it with regardless.

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Elena took the gentle insult--teasing, really--with a grin and slightly narrowed eyes, saying nothing as he threw his first dart and popped a balloon. With a slightly over-dramatic sigh, she leaned against the counter and looked between him and the board. "You don't seem too rusty," she remarked, "Think you can hit all three darts?" She cocked her hip to the side and leaned her weight on one foot, then folded her arms. "Maybe I'll learn a little bit from you." Doubtful, her mind supplied. He didn't seem particularly the type to fall for a hustle, but she wouldn't be herself if she didn't at least try.

Charlie didn't like to show off - actually that was a lie Charlie loved to show off. He been standing near to the balloon darts booth set on winning his date something when he was unexpectedly spoken to. "Intentionally difficult probably but rigged? I highly doubt it." Although if there was a wind machine around somewhere to make the balloons move he wouldn't have been surprised. "Well it'd be hard to be much worse." He laughed, strolling up to take his turn. He threw the first dart and hit one of the large balloons at the top. "Not too bad, I'm a little rusty though."

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For a flash of a second, Elena's brows knitted as she watched the man turn the dart in his hands with something maybe disappointment-adjacent, like it weighed more than a simple cheap dart intended to be thrown at a wall of equally cheap pastel-pink, red, and white balloons. Her gaze slipped away after a moment, darting to the prizes that dangled from the narrow beams of the stall, and she sighed heavily as she made a decision. Kindness without expectation was not her usual game, particularly when her original intention had been to fleece some dipshits out of a few dollars, but something about his expression made her pause.

"I lied," she said flatly, then glanced at the board, paid for another three darts and launched them almost lazily in quick succession, each finding their mark flawlessly. "I'm good at this game. Want a hand?"

"I certainly doubt I'll hit anything," Florian admitted, his voice carrying a note of quiet resignation. He glanced at the dart in his hand, turning it over between his fingers as if familiarity might somehow make him better at the game. But deep down, he knew—he had never been good with darts, never had the precision or the patience for such things. And as for guns? He had never even touched one in his life, let alone aimed at anything with the intent to hit. It simply wasn’t in his nature.

He had always been drawn to the delicate things, the quiet, intricate arts that required a different kind of precision—one of care rather than force. Arranging flowers in the Japanese art of ikebana had always felt more like his calling, where every stem, every petal, every intentional space between them told a story. He liked that. He liked creating something that could move people, something that spoke without words.

But in the end, flowers were just flowers. No matter how carefully he arranged them, no matter how much thought or feeling he put into their placement, they always withered. Even with the gentlest hands, the most careful touch, they faded, petals curling inward, color draining away, slipping between his fingers like something never meant to last.

And maybe, in some way, he had made peace with that. Or maybe, he just wished he could.

@ofhighrises

[ofhighrises]

The man next to her radiated an infectious sort of joy and confidence, one that quickly made Elena drop the act as she paid for another round of darts. His wrist snapped with practiced ease and each dart hit a balloon with a loud pop, and when he finally issued her a challenge, the grin she returned was nearly wolfish. Hustling idiots was a fun game, but if there was anything she loved in any context, it was winning.

"Mami, huh?" she teased as she toyed with a dart, then looked at her own side of the board briefly before she flicked her own dart towards it with the same precision he'd shown only moments earlier. Darts were darts, and she'd drunkenly destroyed enough frat boys in bars at the game to practically do this in her sleep. "Are you really so sure you'll take that prize? From me?" Her next two darts sailed towards the board in quick succession, those two also hitting their mark. "Just watch me work, yeah?"

the place looked like someone had taken cupid, stuffed him full of confetti, and blown him to hell. pink and red draped across every surface, heart-shaped balloons bobbing in clusters, neon signs flashing corny slogans. love was in the air. also, the smell of fried food and sugar. the kind of atmosphere that should’ve made tiago roll his eyes and find the nearest bar. except, truth was, he was thriving. caramel apples? handled. cotton candy? demolished. some kind of deep-fried, heart-shaped thing covered in powdered sugar? sacrificed to the cause.

and now: balloon darts. he lined up the next throw, fingers tapping the dart’s tip. easy game. weight distribution was different, sure, but throwing knives had taught him precision, control. aim, flick, hit. second nature. the balloon popped in a satisfying little snap, and tiago grinned, grabbing another dart, repeating the process.

then—the sigh, and elena, standing there, with her unpopped balloons. he turned toward her, letting out a laugh, elbow on the counter, dart rolling between his fingers. “better?” he echoed, dragging out the word like it tasted sweet. “mami, i’m a menace.” flick. the dart left his hand, sharp and fast—pop. another balloon gone. he glanced back at her, eyes glinting. “you gonna put in some effort, or you just here to watch me take home the big prize?”

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"Only as far as I can throw you," Elena quipped in return, though the faint grin on her lips took any of the heat out of her words. Without hesitation, she stepped close and took the proffered lighter, then canted her body slightly to shield herself from the breeze in order to light her cigarette. A few clicks, a golden flame, and then the lighter appeared held between her fingertips towards the woman again to return it.

As she took a drag, Elena shrugged and gazed briefly down the fairway, shoulders dropping as the faint nicotine buzz warmed her veins. A curl of smoke left her lips as she eased a little nearer, the stranger's pull on her gravitational despite the unfamiliarity. Her night could end here, for all she cared. "For now," she answered following a noncommittal hum.

In the afterglow of pure silence, she laughed quietly. "What's wrong? Don't you trust me?" Difficult to blame the other woman if not, very little about Cat reflected honesty and reliability. From the way she'd spent the batter part of fifteen minutes half-leaning against the wall in a buzzed stupor, to her deceptively beckoning grin. A siren's call where the only reward waiting in her embrace was a sharpened maw.

"You've already figured out where it's headed." Right here. The lighter practically appeared in her palm of its own volition before she dangled it like a lure to coax her company into nearer proximity. "All by your lonesome tonight?"

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At once, the confusion written across her features crumbled into annoyance, nose wrinkling and brow furrowing at the sound of the much-loathed nickname in the mouth of a stranger. But she wasn't. At once, uncanny familiarity burned into abject knowing, the darkness that blotted out most of her formative years clearing into bright, scorching daylight.

They were children in her mind, the memory hazy and incomplete but warm, a comfortable place in spotty darkness that otherwise sent her into a tailspin every time she thought on it too hard. For a long moment she simply stared, mouth working silently and the color drained completely from her face as she tried to keep her head above water even as long-destroyed memories threatened to drown her.

"Bianca," she said finally, the name said slowly, as though she wasn't quite sure it was correct. "Bianca," she repeated more firmly as a watery smile finally bloomed on her lips. Before she could stop herself, she launched forward and wrapped her arms around the other's shoulders, cigarette and lighter forgotten. "Bianca, I do know you," she repeated weakly.

For a moment, Bianca couldn't breathe. The wind bit at her skin, the carnival lights flickered in the distance, but none of it registered. All she could see was her.

It had been years—years of unanswered letters, of quiet hope curling into resignation, of wondering if she’d ever hear anything again. She had written anyway, pouring ink onto paper in a desperate, one-sided conversation, and now, now, Elena was here, standing in front of her, looking at her with that same flicker of recognition Bianca had been craving for so damn long. As if just realizing how much she had missed her friend... damn near the only friend she had in this city.

Her mask—practiced, polished, near impenetrable—slipped before she could catch it. Her carefully honed cool shattered under the weight of something raw, something broken, something that had never fully healed.

“Ellie?”

The name left her lips unguarded, a whisper barely heard over the wind, but heavy with too much history to be ignored. Bianca’s hands twitched at her sides, aching to reach out, to grab onto something solid before the moment disappeared like smoke.

She should say something else. Something sharp, something detached, something her. But all she could do was stand there, searching Elena’s face, as if trying to piece together all the missing years between them.

[ofhighrises]

Breslin's eyes flicked to the nachos briefly before returning her attention to the man now at the booth, easy smile never once faltering. She certainly understood the desire for a change of scenery--ever since her election, she felt like she saw the walls of her office more than those of her own home. Despite working a booth, this functioned in much the same way. She got some face-time with happy strangers and a little fresh air doing something wildly outside her usual routine. A hum of agreement sounded as she nodded a little, eyebrows arching briefly while she listened. At the posed question, Breslin chuckled softly and waved her left hand a bit in order to quickly flash the wedding band on her finger.

"Soulmate found, it seems, though she has the great fortune of not being tethered to a carnival game for a shift," she replied with another quiet bubble of a laugh. "Several people were selected to run booths for this thing--community service by lottery, most likely." She shrugged, then continued. "I had zero hand in the planning of it. Anyway, while not a ring toss fanatic, I have now spent enough time here to hone my skills," she said and her tone took a slightly mischievous edge as she explained. "The ring is not a whole lot larger than the bottle you're trying to land it on and it kind of bounces. A little more luck than skill, unfortunately."

Romeo had not been intendent on attending the carnival, but quickly came to his senses that he could only spend so many days alone playing video games. He wandered through the attraction, finding not much sticking out to him. Finding comfort at least in the greasy food, he equipped himself with some nachos and carried on. He eventually stopped in place to look around, hopeful to see a face of someone he knew, however having no such luck. Romeo began having second thoughts about bothering to come out to the money grab that this seemingly was, zoned out and disassociated in his own thoughts.

"Huh-?" He looked up when he realized it was him that was being spoken to. Tossing the rubbish from his food into the trash can next to him and then lending his attention to the lady at the games booth. "No ones won the big one yet." He repeated back to her, scanning the booth over in its entirety. "Has anyone won anything here yet?" He joked, flashing a soft smile. "Alright, I'll give it a whirl, what have I got to lose?" He asked, pulling money out of his wallet to pay for the game and handing it over. "Someone special?" He repeated the question back with a chuckle. "No, no, not at all." He admitted. "I just needed to get out of the house. Staring at the same four walls was starting to push me to the brink of insanity. I thought I'd run into some friends here at the very least, but so far no such luck." Romeo grabbed one of the game pieces to attempt the heart toss. His accuracy seemed pretty touch and go. Making some of the shots effortlessly, and fumbling the others completely. "What about you?" He asked jokingly, seeing that she was obviously here for work. "You here on the quest to find your soulmate or are you just a huge ring toss fanatic?"

[ofhighrises]

"Oooh I agree," Breslin said with a laugh as she leaned on the front of the counter. She recognized the other from another shift, but hadn't had the chance to actually meet her until now. "I can't imagine being a parent who wins something like that for their kid, only to have to drag the thing around for the rest of the evening like a third wheel." Idly, she grabbed one of the rings and toyed with it lazily, tossing it between her hands by spinning it around a finger and letting it fly to the other.

"Any takers on your winning personality as a prize?" she added a moment later, teasing. "Do you think anyone would take a firm handshake instead? I'm probably not quite nice enough for the personality-prize, if we're being honest."

She had already finished her heart toss shift, but she'd found herself circling back around to it, curious to see if anyone had been lucky that night. She knew the game wasn't exactly designed to produce an abundance of winners, so she wanted to see which prizes were left. Plus, she had nothing better to do with her evening. She was there, she'd done a lot of browsing, consumed an excess amount of food and was just enjoying herself for the time being. Harper hadn't bothered to try playing when she was working the booth, only demonstrated what was supposed to be done for the people who approached.

"Oh, I like think that my personality is impressive enough," she stated, a teasing grin forming on her features. "Besides, I don't think anyone wants to lug that thing around for the rest of the night." She knew she didn't. She'd get exhausted in no time. "I think one of those smaller prizes would be just perfect."

[ofhighrises]

Breslin watched with mild curiosity as the other seemed to consider this for a moment, his attention on the comically large stuffed bear that sat near the back of the booth. At his question, her eyebrows raised and she straightened, then grabbed one of the plastic rings and twirled it around her finger as she took a step nearer to the game itself before she explained.

"You get three rings, and the goal is to get them to land on the bottle," she explained, tapping one of the assortment of bottles with one finger. They were arranged in a tight collection atop a large table, all of them glass but heavy so as not to fall easily should they be jostled by a careless attendant or a particularly strong ring-throw. "The rings are a little larger than the bottle opening and they bounce, so it's not quite as easy as it sounds. The big bear is for managing to get all three rings onto bottles."

"Oh—" Florian paused, his gaze settling on the plush polar bear sitting alone on the prize shelf. It looked almost forlorn, as if waiting for someone to take it home.

His fingers tapped idly against his side as he considered it. "What do I have to do to win them?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. Was it one of those games where you had to land a ball in a certain hoop? Knock over a pyramid of bottles? Or was it just a matter of handing over an ungodly amount of tickets, forcing his wallet to suffer in the pursuit of a grand prize?

A part of him didn’t really care about the specifics. What mattered more was the thought of winning it—not for himself, but for someone else.

His thoughts flickered to Nero, and an amused glint danced in his eyes. The image formed so easily in his mind: Nero, walking around with the oversized bear in hand, looking utterly ridiculous—no, ridiculously cute. Florian could already imagine the contrast, the way Nero’s usual composure would be undercut by the sheer absurdity of carrying such a thing. It was enough to make him smirk, his determination solidifying on the spot.

"Sure, I’ll give it a go—" he said, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a challenge. Whatever it took, he was willing to try. @ofhighrises

[ofhighrises]

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A delighted huff of a laugh passes El's lips at Ludovica's dramatics, particularly when an unsuppressed smile tugs at her lips despite the projected irritation. It was the entire point of this endeavor, to see just how well the other handled the wildly fake fortune teller's booth, and she certainly wasn't disappointed. "Did she at least say you'd pick something good?" she says as she mirrors Lu's closeness, arms bumping briefly as the pair of them meandered the fairway. Amber eyes flicked towards the array of games and other attractions for a moment as she considered the threat of having the other pick a game for her, but the grin she returned couldn't be anything but cheshire as she leaned in slightly before speaking. "Ah, do your worst. I'm very good at everything, you know," she replied, then hummed a laugh to herself and straightened.

@ofhighrises

LOCATION: outside the fortune teller booth. FOR: elena oscasio.

" I ALREADY KNEW THAT place was a sham, but i can't believe you convinced me to go in there. " ludovica grumbled as she exits the booth, rolling her eyes. her outward appearence seems disgruntled, angry. however, her face betrays her. a smile blossoms instead. there are very few people in this world who can get past the armor she clearly projects. to most, it's impenetrable. " you want to know what my supposed fortune was? " this triggers amused laughter. it almost feels surreal, that people were willing to fund such stupidity. but then again, she remembers where she is. " this idiot looked me straight in my face, and tried to predict what i was going to pick from the snack bar. just because of that, i may have to pick something else. " after shaking her head, she steps a hair closer with a much more mischivious look on her face. " because of that, i get to pick the next game you play. "

[ofhighrises]

"Keep me humble? I am always humble," she retorted with a grin, then laughed softly as Victoria swept her hair over her shoulder for added flair. It earned her a good-natured eyeroll as Breslin folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the skee-ball counter. At the challenge leveled, the elder woman tipped her head towards he game and raised her eyebrows. "Go on then, beauty before age," she quipped, "And my hand-eye coordination is still excellent, thank you. I'll win a bear and maybe let you have it. We'll see where the mood takes me."

As she watched Victoria, her phone buzzed once from her back pocket, then several times successively, enough to warrant absently pulling it out to see who so intently texted her. Instead of the expected check-in from her wife or perhaps Theo, something she thought she'd buried years ago shone brightly atop the set of push notifications, causing the color to drain completely from her face as the easy smile from moments earlier slid away.

"Uh... oh," she managed, mouth dry. She waved an arm weakly at her friend in an attempt to get her attention, but she couldn't tear her eyes from her phone. "Vic-- I-- I think I need to sit."

Victoria laughed, a rich, honeyed sound as she gave Breslin’s arm a playful squeeze before letting go. “Oh, please. You love that I keep you humble,” she teased, flipping her hair over one shoulder with a dramatic flourish. “Besides, if I don’t keep you on your toes, who will? Maybe your wife—she actually likes you.”

She tilted her head, casting a considering glance at the skee-ball booth before leveling Breslin with a smirk. “And yes, I want a stuffed bear. Is that so much to ask? You’re the big, bad mayor—I just assumed you’d be capable of a little hand-eye coordination.” Her tone was sweet, saccharine even, but the challenge gleamed in her eyes.

Victoria took a step closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Unless, of course, you’re scared of losing to me.” She reached out, tapping a perfectly manicured finger against Breslin’s forearm. “In which case, I understand. Wouldn’t want to bruise that formidable reputation of yours.”

[ofhighrises]

Elena leaned against one of the barriers that created a loose sense of order among the booths, glancing up briefly from her phone as Violet eyed Heart Break Smash with what she assumed was curiosity. "You write a name or... whatever, really, on a plate and break it. I saw a lot of teenage girls writing the names of ex-boyfriends on plates to break them, but there were a lot of businesses or bosses written on them too." She shrugged as she craned to look over her shoulder to watch someone smash a few plates, bits of cheap white porcelain scattering like confetti following the sound of shattering. "You can work out some pent-up aggression, I suppose. Anybody deserve that sort of treatment in your book?"

Location: Heart Break Smash Status: Closed @ofhighrises (Elena)

Violet checked the time on her phone and rolled her eyes. She would need to be at her shift at the photo booth soon, but she wanted to see what the Heart Break Smash was before she did. Who would really care if she was a few minutes late? "What's the point in this?" She asked Elena as she joined her watching the booth.