prcsecco

[prcsecco]

A  GIRL  LIKE  YOU.  it's  a  phrase  that  would've  normally  made her bristle.  but  there's  something  about  his  voice;  the  way  those  words  come  out  softer  than  any  of  the  the  other  ones  he's  spoken  to  her.  instead  of  rolling  her  eyes  —  instead  of  running  away  —  hannah  straightens,  lowers  her  chin  in  acknowledgement.  her  attention  follows  his  back  while  he  maneuvers  towards  the  front  of  the  bar,  clinging  to  where  his  shirt  strains  over  his  shoulder  blades  with  each  step.  she  notes  which  way  he  turns  after  pushing  the  door  open,  before  settling  into  the  booth,  opposite  his  now  vacant  seat.  she  gets  her  phone  out  to  check  the  clock  on  her  home  screen.  eight  minutes. as  if  on  cue,  every  ' based  on  a  true  story '  cautionary  tale  her  dad  has  ever  told  her  presses  to  the  forefront  of  her  mind.  she  ignores  them  —  reminds  herself  that  the  chances  of  this  particular  man  being  a  murderer  are  miniscule.  practically  non - existent.  still,  when  she  finds  herself  contemplating  downing  what's  left  of  her  drink,  she  instead  pushes  the  glass  to  the  side.  gets  the  attention  of  one  of  the  staff  and  motions  that  she'd  like  to  close  out  her  tab.  hannah  shuts  her  eyes,  draws  a  breath.  dangerous  brown  eyes  and  broad  shoulders  and  taut  muscles  under  tan  skin  flash  behind  her  lids.  she  exhales,  and  there's  a�� keenness  to  the  way  her  lips  curl  in  a  privy  smile.  eight  minutes. eight  minutes,  which  feel  like  forever,  but  pass  in  the  blink  of  an  eye.  upon  exiting  the  bar,  she  turns  the  same  way  he  did.  gaze  going  to  the  cars  lining  the  street  as  she  walks,  eventually  finding  a  recently  familiar  face  behind  a  windshield.  a  thrill  runs  down  her  spine,  heart  kicking.  bending  at  the  waist  as  she  approaches  the  passenger  side,  she taps  the  glass  thrice,  a  playful  glint  to  her  eyes  when  she  pulls  the  door  open  and  gets  in. seconds  ago,  there'd  been  a  myriad  of  potential  ways  to  greet  him  right  at  the  tip  of  her  tongue.  she  could've  asked  him  why  eight  minutes,  or  if  he  managed  to  move  the  body  of  the  girl  before  her  from  the  backseat  to  the  trunk  without  issue.  but  being  this  close  to  him  again,  in  such  a  tight  space,  is  immediately  overwhelming.  his  presence  in  the  bar  had  been  heavy  —  now,  it's  downright  gravity  shifting.  the  world  tilts,  and  hannah  realizes  after  it's  already  happened  that  her  entire  body  has  turned  in  the  passenger  seat,  centering  him.  his  scent,  hard  to  discern  in  the  turmoil  of  the  crowded  bar,  hangs  thick  in  the  close  quartered  air,  deliciously  dizzying  as  she  draws  a  breath,  lashes  fluttering.  all  remnants  of  sensible  apprehension  ease  from  her  mind,  ease from  her  body,  and  is  replaced  by  tense  coils  of  anticipation;  of  promise.  drinking  in  the  sight  of  dangerous  brown  eyes  and  broad  shoulders  and  taut  muscles  under  tan  skin,  she  exhales;  her  breath  taking  the  shape  of  a  single  word  —  "  hi.  "

the vein in his neck is jumping . the last time it did that was when he got shot at , thanks to his idiot brother getting pickup time wrong after robbing a bank ( hardly the same as being noticed by someone like hannah ) . omar inhales, tries not to focus on the scent of her . women always have this particular way of smelling nice , alluring , magnetic , and hannah is no exception . it makes him almost want to panic , if he remembered how to do such a thing . RED LIGHTS FLASH IN HIS MIND . danger , danger . move back . away . but he doesn't . he stays still as ever , deliberately so , just as her fingers dance along his arm . DANGER , DANGER . omar keeps his face as impassive as ever , but inside . . . his brain is running a million miles a minute , considering every aspect of this . she shouldn't know who he is . should never have recognised him , or come over . definitely shouldn't have been drunk . but here she is . his strengths are pulling the trigger quickly — he's not immune to seduction , sadly .

her voice is disarming . a twinge lower and flatter than he expected . he doesn't want to think about how their voices would sound jumbled together . he does not want to think about the exact way their moans could harmonise . NOPE . DANGER , DANGER . omar exhales , and determinedly keeps his eyes on her , even as she very obviously checks him out . he blinks at her , sets his jaw . " . . . what makes you think i want that ? " omar asks instead , hoarse and dry . his own fingers drum on the table separating them . he thanks god for that . he allows his eyes to dance around , but nobody is paying them attention . but he's not dumb enough to draw attention to them by leaving together . he can't believe he's even entertaining this very stupid idea . but she's looking at him in a way that's UNCOMMON . it's like she sees him . he is not used to being known .

omar swallows again , then blinks , long and slow . thinking. thinking . one half of his brain fights the other : she's already here . how else does he get out of this ? it's not realistic for a man like him to turn down a woman LIKE HER . plus , if she keeps talking to him . . . people will begin to remember . they'll be questioned by the police , afterwards and say ' oh there's one guy she was bothering at the bar ' . OMAR NEEDS TO NIP THIS IN THE BUD , AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE . he's very aware of the mission at hand , and it does not include sleeping with her . his brain argues again : at least you could potentially give her a great time before you off her . " — i can't be seen leavin' here with a girl like you . " his words come out softer , like a mumble . he has no control over them . over this . she's here , and he wants her . GOD DAMN IT . he does . omar meets her eyes again . drums his fingers against the table . " meet me outside . in my car . 8 minutes . not a second earlier , or later . " he snatches up his worn leather jacket , breaks his gaze . " i'll wait for you , but if you back down . . no hard feelings , yeah ? " because that's the only way this works . with nobody tying them together . with her maybe second guessing herself , and them ending this in very seperate ways .

[prcsecco]

—   ❛   𝐜 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐞 𝐝   𝐟 𝐨 𝐫  : @hcneybird

poolside at the sinclair summer house, the hamptons

"  THAT  —  ...  COULD'VE  GONE  WORSE.  "  despite  his  words,  jesse  doesn't  immediately look  up  from  the  softly  rippling  surface  of  the  water,  because  he  knows  his  face  is  betraying  him.  but,  truthfully,  it  definitely  could  have  been  worse.  like, a lot worse. he  didn't  spill  anything.  kept  the  conversation  away  from  anything  even  remotely  political.  made  her  mother  laugh; didn't make her dad scoff.  he  wasn't  dismissed  and led to the door the  moment  dinner  was  finished.  and  no  one  commented  on  his  borrowed,  visibly  too - wide  pants.  now,  with  said  pants  rolled  up  and  feet  hanging  off  the  edge  of  the  pool  in  the  backyard  of  the  sinclair  summer  house,  he  kicks  the  water  lazily,  fingers  edging  over  the  smooth  tiles  until  they  find  violet's.  finally  —  finally  —  he  feels  like  he  can  breath  freely  again.  his  head  turns,  eyes  meeting  hers;  an  impossibly  fond  smile  spreading  on  his  face.  he  leans  over,  his  shoulder  nudging  hers.  "  at  least  your  brother  seems  to  like  me.  "

[prcsecco]

IT  IS  IMPOSSIBLE  NOT  TO  NOTICE  how  everything  about  the  man  in  front  of  her  is,  in  some  way,  measured.  from  the  way  he'd  gone  rigid,  then  perfectly  still,  when  she  reached  for  him,  to  the  way  he  makes  out like  it  takes  no  effort  whatsoever  to  keep  his  focus  from  drifting  anywhere  near  the  neckline  of  her  shirt.  so,  hannah  latches  onto  the  things  that  aren't  completely  in  his  control.  like  his  eyes, and how they  grow  dark as they watch her,  causing  her  breath  to  catch.  the  timbre  of  his  voice  —  seemingly  perpetually  hoarse;  like  from  disuse.  like  he  only  ever  speaks  when  spoken  to.  the  movement  of  his  adam's  apple  when  he  does  talk.  hannah  imagines  pressing  her  lips  against  it,  where  it  sits  at  the  column  of  his  throat.  pictures  swallowing  the  vibrations  of  every  breath,  every  sound  he  makes.  the  reverberation  of  them  in  her  own  body,  when  even  despite  the  air  between  them,  just  the  echo  of  each  one  of  his  husky  words  settles  like  hot  stones  at  her  centre.  heavy. simmering. "  i  could  tell  you,  i  guess.  "  she  cants  her  head,  holding  his  gaze.  hannah  could  tell  him  she  wants  to  curl  her  fingers  —  dig  them  into  the  flesh  of  his  arm  —  to  see  if  she  could  make  him  flex  again,  like  she  had  upon  first  contact.  how  she  wants  to  feel  the  muscle  there  tighten  under  her  touch,  then  lift  his  arm  to  see  where  her  nails  created  little  crescents  on  his  skin.  how  she  wants  to  lick  the  indents  she  left  there;  run  her  tongue  along  the  thick  veins  on  his  arm  to  feel  the  ripple  of  his  pulse  underneath  it.  just  as  a  test.  a  taste.  a  taste  of  what  it'd  be  like  to  have  her  mouth  pressed  against  other  parts  of  him. "  or  —  "  she  draws  a  shallow  breath,  wets  her  lips.  her  attention  lowers  to  the  juncture  where  his  neck  meets  his  shoulder.  that  enticing  spot,  which  beckons  her  to  notice,  calls  to  her,  whenever  it's  exposed  by  the  slightest  shift  of  his  collar.  the  black  of  her  pupils  expand  as  her  eyes  journey  down.  down  his  chest.  down  his  stomach,  and  lower  still.  down,  down,  down,  until  the  edge  of  the  table  he's  seated  at  blocks  the  path  she's  set  out  on  from  view.  her  brows  twitch  in  a  momentary  bout  of  displeasure  at  the  interruption  —  there,  then  gone  —  as  does  the  fingers  still  resting  on  his  arm.  her  chin  tilts  up  first,  while  her  gaze  lingers  another  second  as  she  says,  "  —  i  could  show  you.  "  a  smile  stretches  her  lips  slowly,  almost  feline - like.  lids  heavy,  as  if  it's  an  effort  to  tear  her  focus  away,  hannah  looks  up  at  him.  there  is  hunger  in  her  eyes.

OMAR'S VOICE IS COMMONLY ROUGH SOUNDING , FROM LACK OF USE . tonight is no exception . he grew up in a house that was non-stop chaos , that bred criminals , drugs , fighting , and death . his mother , the matriarch of it all . ANIMAL KINGDOM ? yeah he had that shit right in his own shared bedroom with his younger brother . and he was always the quietest one . even in bars , or when he allows himself more than one drink . . omar is rarely loud or talkative . instead , he observes . and boy , is he observing HER tonight . the same girl who's father is number one on his family's shitlist . the same girl who is meant to be a mission , a statement , and nothing more . BUT SHE'S BEAUTIFUL . and once you notice that type of thing , it's really hard to think anything else . omar's eyebrow quirks up , lightly confused at her sentiment : ' thats sweet ' . the words bounce in his brain as he pulls out a few notes from his jeans pockets and passes it to the staff member .

at the sudden movement from her , omar almost reaches right for his gun in retaliation ( never leaves home without it ) , but he's glad he doesn't . that would be one way to really arise thousands of questions . he does tense though , expectant , gaze following her fingers on his arm . the soft pads landing and touching there , on his bare skin . IT'S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE HE'S BEEN TOUCHED , GENERALLY , MUCH LESS BY A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN . his eyes break up , up , up , before meeting hers again . and suddenly , she's leaned over the table , and he's fighting every temptation to look at the gape in her shirt as she leans across , giving him an eyeful of what's underneath . . . he clears his throat , short and sharp .

when she speaks again , it's borderline sultry and omar feels himself twitch , vaguely , in his pants . for fuck's sake , he wants to curse at himself . for his own lack of restraint . for the way he feels stupid and weak , just by a few choice words of hers . " coulda fooled me . " he manages to let out , words dragged out , slow , like a creaking door . omar doesn't move away , doesn't move HER away , but stays exactly where he is . his brain buzzes as he looks at her , and suddenly she's truly all he sees . he's a man drowning . " so what did you come here for ? " omar asks instead , voice careful and even , but eyes flashing momentarily darker against her honey coloured ones .

[prcsecco]

"  THE  EASTMANS  DON'T  HAVE  MAIDS,  "  brandon  singsongs  under  his  breath,  a smirk  playing  on  his  lips.  it's  in  stark  contrast  to  the  way  mirren  usually  spits  those  same  words  out,  when  someone  gets  a  little  too  frisky  while  trying  to  get  under  her  skin.  it's  usually  mack  or  ronnie,  but  brandon's  been  on  the  receiving  end  of  her  wrath  too. "  maybe,  "  he  shrugs,  diligently  handing  amina  the  bottles  she'll  need  for  their  drinks,  one  after  the  other.  she  didn't  need  to  ask  for  that,  either.  she  usually  doesn't  need  to  ask  him  for  anything,  ever.  brandon  is  well - trained.  eager  to  please. they're  standing  close  —  there's  a  pleasant  warmth  from  the  fireplace  in  the  other  room,  yet  he  can  feel  the  heat  coming  off  of  her  body.  their  fingers  brush  whenever  a  bottle  is  passed  between  them.  "  or  maybe  i  seized  the  opportunity  to  get  you  alone,  before  the  booze  makes  you  do  — what was it ? something  stupid ?  "

ONCE THEY'RE OUT OF SIGHT from the others, amina lets go of brandon's hand. sometimes she feels she finds clarity when it's just the two of them, and other ( well, most of ) times their encounters leave her more confused. she's not brave enough to try and unpack what that, or he, means to her. « do i look like mirren's maid ? » she huffs dismissively, lining up glasses on a mahogany table and motioning for bran to hand her bottles of alcohol. « i didn't need to ask, did i ? you came anyway. » she glances at him, a teasing glint in her eyes. « do me a favor and don't let me get too drunk. i'll end up doing something stupid. » like you.

[prcsecco]

THE  IDEA  OF  DAPHNE  JOINING  HER,  even  just  as  a  hypothetical,  makes  mirren's  face  light  up.  makes  her  chest  feel  tight,  in  a  good  way;  like  her  heart  is  suddenly  too  big  for  her  ribcage.  she  loves  daphne  so  much  —  loves  all  of  them  so,  so  much.  she'd  have  them  with  her  everywhere,  all  the  time,  if  she  could. "  please,  "  the  blonde  scoffs,  leveling  daphne  with  a  glance  she  wills  to  hold equal  weight.  the  heat  rising  on  her  cheeks  might  be  betraying  her,  though.  "  he's  just  the  smartest  one  here,  and  knows  not  to  argue  because  i'm  always  right.  "  she  shrugs  one  of  her  shoulders,  like  her  stupid,  giant  heart  isn't  beating  one  million  miles  per  minute  just  thinking  about  bennett.  "  besides  —  why  would  any  of  you  be  scared  ?  i  only  made  mack  sleep  outside  that  one  time.  "

MIRREN'S WORDS HAVE DAPHNE looking at the board game in her hand, doubting her choice. it seems like giving the blonde an easy win — mirren's probably more agile than all of them. daphne is about as stiff as a nail. but then again, mirren winning might work in everyone's favor. « huh. i really should join your pilates class, » she muses aloud. however many thoughts just swiveled in daphne's mind about her ex, they evaporate as mirren grabs her hand — the other just has that effect on people. « no one would dare to skip game night, mirren. see — we're all a little scared of you, » the redhead teases, giving her a meaningful look. « almost all of us. but i'm certain he's easily convinced regardless. »

[prcsecco]

SCOTT  IS  PUZZLED.  which,  to  be  fair,  is  to  be  expected  when  having  a  conversation  with  mack.  he's  trying  to  work  out  who's  who  in  this  fight  scenario,  but  comes  up  short.  "  do  you  even  know  how  the  story  of  david  and  —  ...  "  he  pauses,  eyeing  the  other  with  brows  knitted  tight  for  a  moment,  before  letting  out  a  sigh  of  defeat.  "  you  know  what,  nevermind.  " the  soft  glow  from  the  lodge's  windows  beckons  up  ahead,  and  the  longing  to  be  back  inside,  out  of  these  wet  clothes  and  in  front  of  the  fireplace,  increases  with  every  hard - won  step  through  the  snow.  "  you  might  get  bran  to  join  you,  but  that's  about  it.  and  that  will  lead  to  benny  joining  in  to  defend  mirren,  "  scott  feels  his  teeth  chatter  ever  so  slightly  as  he  speaks.  "  then  you've  really  got  a  giant  on  your  hands.  "

MACK LETS OUT A HUFF and gives scott's shoulder a squeeze. « grow up. she's all ... legs and ... brains. » they shrug as if they've actually said something profound or even slightly coherent. honestly the only reason they won't give kendra more credit is because she almost matches their height — mack can take much, but not having his pride compromised. malcolm falls silent for a moment as he ponders the hypothetical laid out before him. « no, i'm still pretty sure i could win, » he replies confidently, bordering on arrogant. he's aware that in reality he might've been able to take on amina on a good day, and even that's debatable. « i'm also almost 100 percent sure i could sweet – talk bran into being on my side. david and goliath – shit, you know. i'll let him know bitches love that. »

[prcsecco]

DRAMATIC  AS  EVER,  brandon leans his head  all the way  back, as  if  he's been punched,  when  bennett  flicks  his  forehead.  "  i  stink  ?  "  he  exclaims,  brows  almost  touching  his  hairline  as  he  rights  his  head  to  look  at  the  other.  the  shift  in  his  expression  is  quick;  from  feigned  surprise  to  real,  bone - deep  impish  glee.  brandon  lunges  for  him,  wrapping  his  arm  around  his  neck  in  a headlock  —  albeit  a  clumsy  one. "  say  that  again  —  "  he  starts,  voice  laced  with  laughter  as  he  walks  them  towards  the  bigger of the many living  rooms,  "  —  and  i'll  put  so  much  snow  in  your  bed,  you'll  have  no  choice  but  to  sleep  with  me  in  my  stinky,  smelly  room.  "

HE SNATCHES THE BOOK right before it hits him square in the face. bennett would give bran a dirty look if he thought it would register with the other man at all — but he knows it won't and honestly that both scares and fascinates the blonde. « no, i'm worried, » he retorts bluntly. knowing brandon he has all reason to be. the pile of pillows bennett is currently buried under turns out to be no match against brandon as benny is all but forced from his hiding spot. « someone else as in who ? » he groans as he flicks his finger against bran's forehead. the question is genuine — he might be smart, but social cues are still lost on him. « i wouldn't flee unless i got twisted with you. you stink. » it's a poor excuse for a joke, but it's also the best anyone will get from him.

[prcsecco]

IT'S  WORTH  IT,  throwing  brandon  under  the  bus,  for  the  look  of  shock  on  kendra's  face.  ronnie  has  to  purse  her  lips  to  keep  a  grin  at  bay  as  she  nods.  "  brandon's  almost  never  sick,  though,"  they  note,  as  an  afterthought,  "  —  so  maybe  we  should  all  indulge  in  a  street  burrito  every  now  and  then.  could  be  good  for  the  immune  system.  " ronnie  shakes  their  hair  back,  head  held  high  as  they  push  the  cart  towards  the  snack  isle.  which  they  have  already  scoped  out,  of  course.  "  i  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,  "  they  say,  feigning  indifference  but  only  making  it  a  handful  of  steps  before  a  smirk  breaks  out  on  their  face.  "  it's  not  like  we've  got  a  budget,  and  i've  never  had  any  complaints  about  my  snack  selection.  "

SHE'S BAFFLED FOR A MOMENT, staring unblinkingly at ronnie whilst the words they've just uttered settle. « are you serious ? » she replies, unable to filter out the disgust in her voice. « how he's still alive is beyond me. grateful for it ! but confused, » she chuckles warmly, her gaze dropping to the cart ronnie's re – stacking. she bites her tongue — she'll have plenty of opportunities to remark on it later. « i think that's it, mostly, » kendra muses, following ronnie's eyes to the list in hand. « we should stock up on snacks though. and i'm joining you to that aisle, you animal, » she adds sternly.

[prcsecco]

HIS  GAZE  IS  HEAVY,  like  a  physical  touch,  as  it  moves  over  her  features.  hannah,  in  her  current  state  of  tipsy,  finds  she  doesn't  mind.  there's  nothing  he can  glean  from  her  face  at  the  moment  that  she  wouldn't  also  willingly  admit  to  out  loud.  her  eyebrows  raise  when  —  finally  —  he  speaks.  not  because  she's  surprised  her  chatter  wore  him  down,  but  rather  because  of  the  mismatch  of  the  words  and  the  voice  they're  spoken  in.  teeth  dig  into  her  bottom  lip;  successfully  biting  back  a  giggle,  but  not  keeping  the  beginnings  of  a  smile  off  her  face.  she  is,  however,  a  little  surprised,  when  he  unceremoniously  offers  her  his  leftovers  and  signals  one  of  the  workers. "  that's  ...  sweet.  "  she  glances  at  the  fries  again,  fighting  hard  to  keep  her  laughter  back,  even  if  her  expression  is  decidedly  betraying  her  bewildered  amusement.  even  as  the  echoes  of  his  voice  grate  against  the  inside  of  her  head,  sending  shivers  across  her  skin.  a  member  of  the  bar  staff  arrives,  and  she  remains  quiet  during  the  quick  exchange.  eyes  on  him,  easy  smile  on  her  lips,  although  her  brows  are  creased  ever  so  slightly  in  contemplation.  hannah  doesn't  think  she's  been  particularly  coy  about  her  intentions,  but  maybe  she's  miscalculated  ? the  worker  turns  their  back  to  the  two  of  them,  and  without  much  thought  behind  her  actions,  hannah  reaches  for  him.  for  a  moment,  she  says  nothing,  eyes  locked  on  the  spot  where  her  fingers  rest  softly  against  his  lower  arm.  eventually  her  mouth  opens,  and  she  draws  a  breath  as  if  to  speak,  then  pauses.  closing  it  again  a  second  later,  her  eyes  raise  to  meet  his;  deep  brown,  almost  black  in  the  low  light  of  the  bar.  searching.  "  you  do  realize  —  “  hannah  starts,  leaning  further  over  the  table,  closer.  words  slow,  voice  low,  as  if  she's  about  to  share  a  secret,  ”  —  i  didn't  actually  come  over  here  for  your  opinion  on  the  food.  right  ?  "

the put on way she says ' mmm ' almost makes omar's lips quirk up in amusement. she even nods , as if a true taste tester . omar watches the entire thing , his eyes even clocking the way her throat constricts as she swallows. HARD TO GET FRENCH FRIES WRONG . she's right , but omar has definitely had his share of bad fries , however he doesn't offer that up because it's hardly trivia night at the pub . it feels surreal that she's here , in front of him . she's close enough that he could touch . he can make out freckles , the bushy thickness of her eyebrows . omar's eyes watch her , as if he hasn't spent days doing so . he doesn't know what to do with this . with her . " waffle or curly fries are a sign of a sociopath . " he finally grunts out instead . he shouldn't be entertaining her . he shouldn't be talking to her . he should be leaving this bar and her , and removing all thoughts of HER as a HER from his brain .

omar looks down at the fries , which now look unappetising to him . there's barely a handful left . his stomach slides with the grease of it . when he looks back up at hannah , he sees her swipe her thumb over her bottom lip , almost in distraction . his eyes follow the movement . the smallness of her thumb , and the rest of her fingers. of her , generally . this is the same girl he's meant to kill ? up close , she looks young . small . although he knows they're close in age from reading her profile . that only makes his stomach slide further . he clears his throat . this isn't good . he doesn't need to know her . he doesn't need to know her drunk , her opinion on fries , the cadence of her voice , or how her thumb moves against her lips . " rest are yours . " omar says instead , voice raspy from lack of use , before he waves to the staff for his bill . it's time for him to get the hell out of here .

[prcsecco]

FROM  HOW  HE'D  BEEN  DEVOURING  THOSE  FRIES,  it  wouldn't  have  surprised  her  too  much  if  when she asked about his food, he'd  use  his  body  to  shield  it  from her while  growling   —  like  an  animal  starved. instead,  hannah  perks  up  when  the  fries  are  pushed  in  her  direction.  her  gaze  is  soon  drawn  to  the  set  of  his  shoulders,  now  that  they're  leaned  back  against  the  booth,  and  not  rounded  in.  shifts  up  to  the  set  of  his  brows,  then  down  to  the  column  of  his  throat  when  he  swallows.  a  thrill  runs  down  her  spine,  her  lips  parting  slightly.  she  feels  the  beginnings  of  heat  rise  on  her  cheeks,  and  is  quick  to  look  down  at  the  fries.  pursing  her  lips,  she  wills  her  rushing  pulse  to  settle  as  she  buys  some  time  by  making  a  bit  of  a  show  of  picking  a  fry  —  eventually  reaching  for  one  and  biting  off  half  of  it. "  mmm.  "  she  hums  around  the  mouthful  of  french  fry  as  she  chews,  nodding  a  couple  of  times  before  she  swallows.  trusting  herself  to  meet  his  eyes  once  more,  she  flashes  him  an  approving  smile.  "  that's  pretty  solid,  actually.  "  she  pops  the  remaining  half  of  the  fry  in  her  mouth,  tongue  softly  cleaning  grease  from  her  bottom  lip  after  it  too  has  been  properly  chewed  and  swallowed.  "  hard  to  get  french  fries  wrong,  though,  "  she  concedes,  shrugging  one  shoulder,  "  unless  you  go  for  something  insane;  like  waffle  fries,  or  curly  fries  —  that's  when  things  can  get  dicey,  you  know  ?  "  eyes  narrow  slightly,  seeking  consensus  from  the  other  briefly  before  her  expression  opens.  "  but  that  —  "  she  gestures  towards  the  fries,  "  —  really  is  good  …  considering  it's  bar  food.  "  it's  an  absentminded  thing  she  does,  when  she  brings  her  thumb  to  her  lips  and  licks  the  residue  salt  from  the  pad.

he's surprised by her voice . he doesn't often talk to his marks ( actually, he never does ) , especially while on a job . it's part of his nature . to be silent and swift . get shit done and keep it going . hearing her voice startles him for a moment . she has a nice voice . it's friendly . omar raises an eyebrow at her as she swaggers closer . she moves in the way that a person intoxicated does . he's familiar with this . his eyes calculate the exact way she drinks steadily and leans in closer , then thuds her glass back down a bit too loudly . it makes the corner of his mouth peel upwards in bemusement .

he looks down at his fries , then slowly draws his gaze up to meet her ( and carefully avoid the way her body forms , as it leans over ) . her nose scrunch makes him falter . omar is not a guy who thinks of people as people . he sees them as walking targets . he doesn't talk to many of them , and he most certainly does not think of them as beautiful . but unfortunately , hannah is edging her way into that category . instead of properly replying , omar leans back , then uses one hand to push the tray of fries closer to her . he can't exactly tell her that beggars can't be choosers . nor that food is really , just nutrition to him at this point . he doesn't think about ' good ' versus ' not good ' . a larger part within him knows not to offer her the fries , nor any reason to linger and stay chatting to him . or flirting . omar is rusty , but his brain lingers on the very notion . FLIRTING . it's a seedy bar . she's a beautiful woman ( he can realise this , to his dismay ) . there is no other need for her to be here . omar clears his throat , then , for lack of anything else to do and finally takes a swig from his lukewarm beer .

[prcsecco]

—   ❛   𝐜 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐞 𝐝   𝐟 𝐨 𝐫  : @hcneybird

continued from  HERE.

HE'S  THE  EMBODIMENT  OF  PATIENCE  as  lucius'  voice  paints  a  vibrant  picture  of  the  events  of  the  night.  after  closing  the  door  softly,  he  makes  for  his  desk  —  leaning  against  it  while  familiar  laughter  brightens  the  darkened  room.  he  does  chime  in  with  the  occasional  hum  in  agreement  or  huff  of  laughter  of  his  own,  but  mostly  talcott  just  listens.  listens,  and  watches  with  half - lidded  eyes  as  his  best  friend  makes  himself  at  home  in  a  fashion  he  is  long  since  accustomed  to. "  i'm  sorry  i  missed  it.  "  and  truly,  he  is.  but  not  because  he's  harboring  any  particular  malice  of  his  own  towards  percy  alejos.  if  the  spectacle  has  lucius  still  beaming  with  glee  even  now,  he's  mournful  he  wasn't  there  to  witness  him  glow  in  excitement  the  moment  it  happened.  his  smile  is  only  half - apologetic  as  he  pushes  off  the  edge  of  the  desk,  turning  his  back  to  the  other  before  adding,  "  but  i  did  ask  kate  to  let  you  know  i'd  be  turning  in  for  the  night.  "  he  lifts  the  pitcher  of  water  he  keeps  on  his  desk  in  case  he  gets  thirsty  during  the  night,  and  fills  one  of  the  accompanying  glasses.  his  movements  are  slow,  weighted  by  slumber  he's  not  really  making  much  effort  to  shake  off. "  shame  indeed,  "  he  mutters,  though  there's  an  amused  tilt  to  his  words;  doesn't  need  to  have  eyes  on  lucius  to  recognize  that  he's  likely  to  be  sporting  one  of  his  distinctive  pouts.  turning  back  around,  his  gaze  fixes  on  the  lithe  figure  sprawled  on  his  mattress,  slowly  coming  up  to  study  his  face.  pouty  lips.  brown  curls  falling  into  eyes  that  are  endlessly  expressive,  even  when  glossy  from  intoxication.  still,  talcott  finds  it  difficult  to  discern  if  the  emotions  he  sometimes  gleans  from  them  are  actually  there,  or  if  he's  merely  seeing  his  own  feelings  mirrored  in  hues  of  blue  and  hazel.  he  wills  himself  to  ignore  the  way  his  throat  is  inexplicably  dry  when  he  swallows. "  promise  i'll  keep  you  in  mind  if  i  need  someone  to  read  as  the  woman  in  green,  though.  " he  comes  to  stand  by  the  bed,  in  between  his  guest's  knees.  bending  down  so  they're  at  eye  level,  talcott  gently  takes  the  script  from  his  hands,  and  replaces  it  with  the  glass  of  water  he's  poured  for  him.  the  script  is  put  blindly  back  on  his  bedside  table  before  he  rights  himself,  chin  lowered  so  their  gazes'  remain  locked.  something  tender  and  deliberately  unnamed  stirs  behind  the  barrier  of  his  ribs.  "  drink,  "  he  prompts  after  a  moment's  pause,  allowing  a  smidge  of  that  something  in  his  chest  to  color  his  drowsy  smile.

[prcsecco]

HANNAH  IS  BORED.  her  friend  left  twenty - something  minutes  ago,  engrossed  in  conversation  with  a  guy  from  hinge  she  was  meeting  for  the  first  time.  she'd  agreed  to  tag  along  as  discreet backup,  in  case  the  guy  turned  out  to  be,  you  know  —  a  murderer.  but  as  luck  would  have  it,  stephen  ( 32 )  was  who  his  profile  claimed  him  to  be,  albeit  a  few  inches  shorter.  she  could  go  home of  course,  but  that  would  be  a  waste  of  the  two  drinks  already  in  her  system.  not  to  mention  the  third  one  still  in  her  hand. her  attention  wanders  as  she  absentmindedly  twirls  her  glass,  making  the  ice  cubes  clink  softly.  a  hunched  over  frame  in  one  of  the  booths  makes  her  sit  up  a  little  straighter;  a  man  going  absolutely  to  town  on  a  burger  and  fries.  impressed,  more  than  anything,  her  lips  curl  in  amusement  as  she  watches  handfulls of  fries  disappear  off  his  plate.  when  he  looks  up  —  somehow  immediately catching  her  blatantly  staring  —  the  warm  buzz  in  her  veins  allows  her  to  keep  her  eyes  locked to  his,  even  as  his  face  remains  devoid  of  the  slightest  flicker  of  interest.  that's  okay,  though.  amplified  by  always  so  reliable  liquid  courage,  hannah's  own  interest  already  has  her  up  from  her  seat  at  the  bar  and  making  her  way  towards  him. "  i  guess  i  was  aware  they  served  food  here,  "  she  muses  out  loud  once  she's  reached  his  table;  elbow  braced  to  lean  against  the  corner  of  it.  a  quick  glance  is  thrown  over  her  shoulder  at  the  boards  hanging  overhead  of  the  bartenders,  listing  beers  and  spirits  and  wines  and  cocktails.  and  there,  easily  missed  if  you're  not  actively  looking  for  it,  is  a  small  selection  of  your  typically  greasy,  bar - style  meals.  "  —  just  never  thought  anyone  would  actually  order  it.  "  turning  back  as  she's  finishing  her  thought,  hannah  catches  his  gaze once more  before  lifting  her  half - emptied  drink  to  her  lips,  holding  his  eyes  over  the  rim  as  she  does.  a  slow  second  passes  before  she  lowers  her  glass  back  on  the  tabletop  with  a  '  thud  ',  her  focus  eventually  following  and  settling  on  his  plate.  a  lock  of  hair  falls  forward  as  she  leans  in  slightly  to  get  a  closer  look.  for  a  moment,  a  covert  smile  presides  on  her  face,  before  her  expression  becomes  tinged  with  curiosity;  nose  scrunched  a  little  as  she  looks  up  at  him.  "  any  good ?  "

starter for @prcsecco !! 𝘧𝘵 . 𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘳 & 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢𝘩

the beer stands untouched - ordered more out of obligation than any desire to really drink it . it's the fries and double burger that omar works at shovelling down his mouth , unceremoniously . work like this means a lot of tailing people and a lot of hiding or lurking in the shadows . it doesn't make eating regular meals all too easy , which is why omar takes any chance he can get for anything fried , greasy and large . now , he picks up 8 fries at a time and shoves them into his mouth . he's a man on a mission : inhaling food , with his shoulders rounded in a way he's perfected to say ' don't fucking talk to me ' . every now and again, his eyes will sweep up , to look for his mark : hannah . but for the most part , he's comfortable not keeping her in his gaze at all times . he's done this shit too many times to count , and knows exactly when to panic , when to shoot , when to ask questions , and when to shut the fuck up .

he leans back against the squeaky leather booth of the bar and watches the television aimlessly . it takes him maybe a beat too long to realise that someone is staring at him . as omar swallows , he looks to his left and realises that hannah is watching him . he masks his face with any surprise ( she shouldn't know who he is ) , and instead blankly stares back , hoping it'll deter her ( she shouldn't know why he's here ) . then , he shoves a few more fries down his mouth .

[prcsecco]

—   ❛   𝐜 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐞 𝐝   𝐟 𝐨 𝐫  : @silkchvffon

continued from here.

BRANDON  IS  STILL  PULLING  FACES  and  making  less  than  family - friendly  gestures  at  the  pair  of  assholes  across  the  room  when  amina  pulls  him  to  his  feet.  "  i'm  spitting  in  both  of  your  drinks,  "  he  promises,  kicking  their  chair  for  good  measure  as  she  steers  them  into  the  next  room. the  boy  couldn't  tell  you  what  the  two  of  them  are,  no  matter  what  you  offered  him  to  put  a  label  on  it.  but  he  finds  he  doesn't  mind  too  much.  he  enjoys  being  around  amina,  and  doesn't  want  to  worry  about  what - ifs  and  what - could - bes.  if  anything,  what  he  does  worry  about  is  what  it'd  do  to  them  if  those  questions  were  to  be  raised  without  the  linger  of  alcohol  and  need  on  both  their  lips. " you  know  mirren's  got  like  —  ...  trays  and  stuff  ?  probably  one  of  those  rich  people  bar  carts  with  wheels  ?  "  he  shoots  the  girl  at  his  side  a  slightly  narrowed  look,  managing  to  keep  a  straight  face  for  all  of  three  seconds  before  his  expression  cracks  to  make  way  for  a  shit - eating  grin.  "  could've  just  asked,  if  you  wanted  me  and  my  strong  arms  all  to  yourself.  "

[prcsecco]

—   ❛   𝐜 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐞 𝐝   𝐟 𝐨 𝐫  : @silkchvffon

continued from here.

MIRREN  KNOWS  HER  FRIEND  MEANS  TO  COMFORT,  but  the  eastmans  have  always  been  more  horrible  on  a  regular  wednesday  than  most  people  are  on  the  worst  day  of  their  lives.  still,  she  offers  a  grateful  smile.  she's  painfully  aware  she  fucked  up  by  inadvertently  turning  her  friend's  thoughts  to  her  ex.  but  she  can  make  it  right  again,  she's  sure. "  ouch  ?  "  the  blonde  pouts,  feigning  heartbreak  for  a  moment  as  she  clutches  her  free  hand  to  her  chest,  before  a  laugh  spills  out  of  her.  "  you  say  that  now,  but  once  we've  got  this  mat  out,  i'm  convinced  my  mad  twister  skills  will  have  you  eating  your  words.  "  leaning  in,  she  presses  a  quick  peck  to  daphne's  cheek,  big  smile  on  her  face  as  she  pulls  back. "  come  on,  if  we're  really  gonna  go  for  twister,  you  and  i  need  to  start  spreading  the  word  and  building  morale,  so  some  people  don't  decide  to  skip  game  night  altogether.  "  giving  daphne's  hand  a  gentle  squeeze  to  mirror  her  earlier  gesture  of  support,  mirren  tugs  her  towards  the  other  room;  walking  backwards.  "  because  i  don't  wanna  call  house  rules,  but  i  will,  if  i  have  to.  "

[prcsecco]

—   ❛   𝐜 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐞 𝐝   𝐟 𝐨 𝐫  : @silkchvffon

continued from here.

THOUGH  SCOTT  DOESN'T  SAY,  he  appreciates  mack's  gesture  more  than  he  would  know  how  to  put  into  words.  he  also  appreciates  the  other's  easy  change  of  subject,  and  gladly  follows  along  as  the  two  of  them  trudge  through  the  snow,  back  towards  the  lodge. "  i'm  scared  of  kendra.  "  it's  an  easy  admission;  more  than  anything,  it's  just  a  fact.  to  this  day,  hers  is  one  of  the  sharpest  minds  he's  ever  encountered,  and  more  than  once  scott  has  gotten  himself  out  of  a  tricky  situation  by  asking  himself  '  what  would  kendra  do  ?  ' "  wouldn't  be  so  sure,  actually.  mirren's  been  obsessing  over  that  one  super  intense  pilates  class,  remember ?  she  also  fights  deceivingly  dirty  for  someone  who  grew  up  without  siblings.  "  scott  had  scratch  marks  down  his  calf  from  her  fingernails  for  weeks  after  last  year's  easter  egg  hunt.  "  and  you  don't  think  all  of  us  —  "  grinning  now,  he  waves  his  hand  to  indicate  the  rest  of  their  friends,  though  none  of  them  are  currently present,  " —  wouldn't  side  with  her,  just  for  the  chance  to  get  our  lick  back  against  you ?  "

[prcsecco]

—   ❛   𝐜 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐞 𝐝   𝐟 𝐨 𝐫  : @silkchvffon

continued from here.

"  COOL,  "  BRAN  SAYS,  looking  at  —  but  not  reading  — the  words  on  the  back  cover.  catching  on  just  a  little  too  late  on  the  actual  theme  of  the  book,  he  glances  over  at  bennett.  "  or  —  not  cool,  i  guess  ?  "  he's  never  been  the  booksmart  type,  but  he's  turned  out  okay.  brandon  knows  a  thing  or  two  about  a  thing  or  two. "  what  you  get  for  sneaking  off  to  read.  "  grinning,  he  flicks  his  wrist;  sending  the  book  flipping  through  the  air  towards  the  other.  "  we'll  get  you  caught  up  soon  enough  though,  no  worries.  "  wiggling  to  the  edge  of  the  couch,  brandon  slides  onto  his  knees  on  the  floor,  then  stands  — the  only  way  he  knows  how  to  escape  the  perilous  mountain  of  decorative  throw  pillows. free  at  last,  he  reaches  down  for  benny's  hand,  dragging  him  up  from  the  couch  as  he  speaks.  "  first  step  in  preparing  you  for  twister  is  gonna  be  to  get  some  liquid  courage  in  you,  so  you  don't  flee  the  room  if,  say  —  ...  you  happen  to  get  particularly  twisted  up  with  someone else.  "  brandon  doesn't  even  try  to  hide  his  knowing  smirk.

[prcsecco]

—   ❛   𝐜 𝐥 𝐨 𝐬 𝐞 𝐝   𝐟 𝐨 𝐫  : @silkchvffon

continued from here.

"  SINCE  WHEN  ARE  WE  TRUSTING  BRANDON'S  OPINION  on  things  being  edible  ?  "  ronnie  attempts  to  unsuspiciously  rearrange  the  groceries  in  the  cart  once  more,  crowding  the  cereal  box  so  it's  further  hidden  from  kendra's  keen  eye. "  i've  seen  him  finish  a  half - eaten  taco  bell  burrito  he  picked  up  off  the  ground. on  two  separate  occasions. "  brows  raised,  she  lets  a  second  pass  in  silence,  before  finishing  with  a  slight  shake  of  her  head,  "  so  no,  bran  doesn't  count. " satisfied  that  their  point  has  been  properly  proven,  ronnie  pushes  the  cart  along  just  enough  for  the  two  of  them  to  end  up  next  to  each  other,  and  for  them  to  glance  down  at  kendra's  shopping  list. "  are  we  almost  done  ?  d'you  need  me  to  get  anything  you've  got  on  there  ?  "