camilapardo

[camilapardo]

camila's smirk deepened, eyes glinting with that fierce mix of humor and challenge. she tapped her fingers lightly on the table, considering. “yeah, wild’s a good word for it,” she said, voice low and steady, like she was letting him in on a secret. “and no, i’m not about to let you off the hook that easy. i want pancakes from this little hole in the wall diner on 5th. the one with the greasy booths and the jukebox in the corner that only plays old rock. you know the one.” she shifted, leaning in just enough so he could catch the spark in her gaze. “it’s simple. i’m gonna show up, nail this thing—whatever ‘this thing’ turns out to be—and then maybe, just maybe, i won’t fall flat on my face. but if i do, well...” she shrugged, voice dropping into that cool, casual tone that made you believe she’d handle it no matter what. “then you get to laugh. and record. but mostly, i get pancakes—and maybe some of that legendary rhys charm to keep me company.” she took another sip from her untouched drink, eyes never leaving his. “so, what’s your move, cowboy? gonna watch or get in on the mess?”

"Jesus, Cami." He laughed watching as she so effortlessly downed the last shot. She was captivating in a way. How she held herself with such confidence. "You're fuckin' wild, you know that? Never doubting you holding your own again." A smirk crept over his lips, oddly proud of her. "Pancakes, huh? Sounds like you're just lookin' to get more time with me-- but I'll oblige. I assume you have a place in mind? Unless you're looking to get me to cook for you." He laughed, downing another shot of his own before setting it back on the bar top. "So what's your plan, sweetheart?"

[camilapardo]

camila didn’t say anything for a beat—just let ellie talk, let her fill the space the way she always did when things got too heavy too fast. it was her way of softening the edges, painting over the cracks before anyone could look too closely. but camila saw them. she always did. and instead of pointing them out, she simply offered warmth in return, like patching the drywall with her bare hands. the shoulder push made her sway slightly, but she didn’t pull away. if anything, she leaned back into it—soft, grounding, real. “you grovel cute,” camila murmured, lips tugging into that subtle smile again, the one that never gave away too much but said just enough. “but for the record, i wasn’t mad. not really.” her voice was low, even. “just... worried.” she turned toward the front again, giving ellie a little space but not stepping far. “that taco truck’s solid. you really do know me too well, hm?” there was something unspoken in her voice, a weight behind the playfulness, like it surprised her how easily ellie had learned the little things. camila reached for her tablet, flicking through the schedule with a quick glance. “alright, sit tight. i’ll power through these next two patients and then you’re stuck with me for lunch. and if i go into a sugar coma afterward, you’re legally responsible for dragging me back inside.” she looked over her shoulder, eyes catching ellie’s again—warm, steady, a little tired, but undeniably there. “and snacks tonight,” she added. “i’m talking full gremlin mode. sour candy, chocolate, chips… whatever we can carry.” then, quieter, like it was only meant for ellie: “you’re staying this time, right?”

camilas light teasing was always a good sign in ellie's mind, something she could latch on to. something she could use to her advantage, to make herself feel slightly better. although selfish, it all came from a genuine place. her body visibly relaxed, shoulders slumped as she pushed one into her friend. like it was her final white flag, her one last unspoken promise. camila offered the brunette something real, something—that for the first time, made ellie actually want to stay. as if she had offered her all of the family she had lost, all in the form of one person. "definitely sugar coma, you can't be mad at me if you're in one of those." a true statement, however meant lightheartedly. "okay, i'll sit tight. i have nothing else going on today, i was pretty much ready to spend the rest of the day groveling, to be completely honest. so the schedule has been cleared." she had to joke, make light of the situation. it was the only way she knew how to deal with anything in her life. "as for where, i was thinking that taco truck down the road. i know you don't go far when you're here—" she smiled, brown eyes still searching for any hint of anger that could have remained. "and then when you're off—we definitely are raiding the store isles for all of our favorite snacks."

[camilapardo]

camila’s breath hitched, just faint enough to be missed by anyone else—but not by willow, not now. not with her head resting in her lap like that, not with her gaze trained on her so closely, so deliberately. a flicker of something passed through camila’s eyes—heat, maybe, or hesitation. but she didn’t look away. she couldn’t. “savvy,” she echoed with a soft scoff, the corners of her lips twitching again, though this smile was different. it wasn’t all mischief and tequila. it was something else. something warmer. “so that’s your move? guilt them into buying rounds with chaotic pig jokes and charm?” her fingers never stopped. they moved slow, sure, the way someone might trace a path they already knew by heart. and she could’ve made a joke—should’ve, maybe—but there was something in the air tonight that dared her to lean into the silence instead. camila exhaled, her gaze flicking once more between willow’s eyes and lips, then back again. her voice dropped low, but steady, barely louder than a whisper. “if we had met in a bar… i don’t think i’d have let you walk away.”

willow's lids grew heavy, admiring the feel of the others fingers playing with her thick blonde locks. she could lose herself in the feeling, in fact--she had. but it was a whirlwind, something that had caused a flutter low in her belly. she hummed, selfishly taking as much as the girl would give--and in the most innocent of ways, without even knowing it. atleast thats something she always chalked it up to, uncertainty. yet, she melted. "if you had told me that joke in a bar, we would have ended up drunk." the truth slipped beyond her reaches, spoken aloud between them without even a second thought. but for once in willows life--she was being observant. catching the way the brunettes eyes dragged slowly along her lips, it was blatant, like she had wanted it to be seen. and maybe she did, maybe the tequila had merely upped the antics tonight. her teeth tugged her bottom lip between them, cheeks adorning a new shade of pink that had been no thanks to her blush. "so not an imbecile. not in the slightest. perhaps even like--savvy. free drinks." she teased lightly, soft yet still confident. that edge still hung between them, tethered to each woman, like a dare left unspoken.

[camilapardo]

Camila couldn’t help it—she laughed. Not the quiet, sarcastic kind she usually gave people to keep them at arm’s length. No, this one was real. Warm and unguarded, slipping past the cracks she usually kept sealed tight. “You really are something else,” she said, watching Harper with the kind of expression someone might wear when looking at a puppy that just barreled into a wall but bounced right back up, tail wagging. The blonde’s joy was infectious. Camila could already feel herself easing into it, her usual weariness softening under Harper’s relentless optimism. She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You do have trustworthy face energy. Dangerous, but trustworthy.” When Harper mentioned the sequins again, Camila let out a groan and gave her a mock glare. “I knew it. I’m gonna walk out of that place looking like I belong on stage with a pop group from the early 2000s.” Still, her smile lingered. As Harper promised not to do anything crazy, Camila gave her a look. “That’s what every person says right before they do something insane. Don’t think I don’t know your type.” But the amusement in her voice betrayed her again. She lifted her drink, offering it between them like a toast. “To showing up solo and leaving with less regret than usual.” She clinked it gently against Harper’s now-empty glass, her eyes catching the way Harper beamed at her. “Yeah,” Camila said after a beat, voice quieter now, almost thoughtful. “It’s good to see you too.”

It seemed like the grin that appeared on Harper's face was permanent, never wanting to leave in the presence of Camila. She had that effect on her, from the moment they first met. The blonde had hoped they would become friends. After she had finished talking, she stopped briefly to grasp the drink and down it in one, like many times she had done that night. Simply letting the liquid slide down her throat easily. Her question didn't affect her, shaking her head, another giggle in response. She could tell it was only teasing. Listening at her words, her smile only grew if that were feasible. It felt like her cheeks were starting to ache. Her hands clapped together in excitement, with a soft squeal of joy emitting from her throat. "Please...If you can't trust me and mine. Who can you, hmm? I mean look at me," she stated confidently. "Although...we do actually have a lot of sequin tops and skirts," she added under her breath. Harper took her comment in stride, with a shrug. "Thanks," she beamed. "Okay, great. I promise I won't do anything crazy. I'm buzzed, not a complete hot mess yet," she chuckled. A low hum escaped as she bumped her shoulder. "As if I could ever do that to you again. It's good to see you," she admitted with a grin.

[camilapardo]

Camila took her drink from the bartender with a little nod of thanks, raising the glass to her lips as she listened to Harper's rapid-fire thoughts spill out like a dam had broken. Her eyes never left the blonde’s face, studying the way her nose scrunched slightly when she was flustered, how her smile came so easily—like breathing. She hadn’t expected tonight to turn into anything remotely social. But here Harper was, all light and warmth and chaos, brightening Camila’s otherwise quiet night like a sudden sunrise she didn’t ask for, but couldn’t ignore. “You’ve got no filter, hm?” Camila muttered with a shake of her head, though there was no bite to it—just a tired sort of amusement as she sipped her drink. The teasing about the store did earn a short laugh from her, low and rough from the back of her throat. “Alright, alright. I’ll trust your fashion sense. But if I end up in sequins or crop tops with glitter, we’re gonna have words.” When Harper said she liked her too, Camila nearly choked on her drink. She set the glass down with a small clink, staring at the girl now with one brow arched, a hint of disbelief mixed with something softer—something she didn’t let show too often. “You’re wild,” she murmured. “But… yeah. You can stay. I don’t mind.” She glanced over her shoulder at the packed crowd, her mouth curving into a rare, relaxed smile. “Besides, I could use someone to make this place less miserable.” Her shoulder bumped gently into Harper’s. “But if you disappear on me again for months after this, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you next time. Fair warning.”

The amount of energy coupled with the pleasant buzz that coursed through her veins, Harper was truly enthusiastic about anything. She was pleased to finally see her again after so long. She left a memorable impression, that's for sure. The adrenaline rush pumping, as she fidgeted. Camila's statement floated to her ears, her eyebrows raised, but that was fair, she supposed, she simply shrugged it off. In her lifetime, she had been called worse things, and she took it as a compliment. "Why, thank you," she answered with another soft chortle escaping. Clearly having no filter whilst under the influence, the words that come out of her mouth are sometimes utterly ridiculous, but she doesn't care. Her lips formed a frown. "I'm so sorry, but you still look good," her fingers brushed away stray strands of golden locks. "Thanks again. I try, it's been great so far," she stated with sheer excitement in her voice. Shaking her head at the question, "don't be silly. Hey, I take offense to that. I'll have you know the store has some very awesome attire. Lots of hidden gems here and there," she added with a beaming smile. A soft hum expelled from Harper's lips. "You shouldn't, it's make fault, but thank you," she beamed appreciatively. "Of course you like me," she cooed. "I like you too," she stated gleefully. "Oh..uh, yes. My friends were supposed to be coming, but it's been hours, and they're still a no-show," she mumbled. "Is it alright if I stay with you?" she questioned nervously.

[camilapardo]

camila’s breath caught in her throat—not because she was flustered (okay, maybe a little)—but because willow always knew exactly how to toe that line between ridiculous and dangerous. that playful glint in her baby blues? it was a weapon, and camila had absolutely zero armor tonight. she scoffed, loud and dramatic, one hand flying to her chest like she’d just been accused of something truly vile. “excuse me? i have taste, thank you very much,” she fired back, though the curl at the edge of her smirk betrayed her. “my pants are selective. they do not drop for pig jokes. no matter how... creatively obscene they might be.” still, her gaze lingered on willow’s for a beat too long, the kind of silence that danced just barely on the edge of flirtation, something unspoken but buzzing in the air between them. it always did when the tequila hit, and the laughter softened, and their bodies ended up a little too close to pretend it was casual. camila’s hand had found its way back into willow’s hair, fingertips gently scratching at her scalp like it was second nature. “and for the record,” she added, voice dropping just a bit, “if you told me that joke at a bar? i’d probably call you a menace.” she paused, eyes flickering down to willow’s lips before returning to her gaze, lazy and unhurried. “but i’d definitely stay for another drink.” she grinned again, this one slower, softer. “so maybe that makes me the imbecile.”

the sound of their laughter had quieted enough, she wiggled her eyebrows playfully before taking the bottle of tequila back‐-taking another swig. this time it had been a lot bigger, the sting it had left behind in its wake made willow cough. the back of her hand meeting her own lips as she attempted to cover it up. she could already feel the alcohol taking its hold over her, marking its territory. warmth blooming wildly in her chest as she could feel the blush creep up into her cheeks. "camila, please tell me you are not genuinely asking me if i went home with mr. piggy joke. because the answer is hell fucking no." her own laughter found its way back to the surface, bubbling up her throat as it sounded out once more. willow settled in, her body leaning into the girls. her own body moving on autopilot as she leaned against her, head leaned comfortably as it had asked for her touch to return. the thought of it alone caused a hum of appreciation to sound from her. "also--hello, what kind of girl would that make me? an absolute imbecile. i couldn't be that desperate even if i had been black out drunk." tilting her head back, her baby blues searched for the brunettes gaze, needing to see the girls reaction at the question that was about to leave her lips. the smallest hint of mischief hidden behind her sweeter than honey demeanor, utilizing her charm to get her out of even the stickiest of situations. "would that joke work on you? come on--dont lie to me. it totally would have made your pants drop, huh?"

[camilapardo]

Camila blinked, then gave the kind of smile that started slow and crooked but burned its way in deep, softening her whole face. It was dangerous, the way Nina could still throw her off balance with something as casual as “coming 'round sometime.” The same way she used to toss out a “stay for dinner” like it wasn’t a big deal, like she didn’t already know Camila would say yes before the words even landed. “I don’t know,” she said, dragging out the words with a teasing squint, “depends—does the ziti come with unsolicited advice and a glass of wine you’ll pretend not to finish?” She was joking, but her voice had dipped low, thoughtful. There was a warmth behind it that hadn’t been there earlier—like the walls she kept so neatly stacked around her had cracked a little at the corners. Her fingers tapped lightly against the cart, a familiar twitch when she was deciding whether or not to let herself hope for something. “I’d like that,” she said finally, quieter this time. “Been a minute since I had dinner that didn’t come out of a microwave. Or, y’know, a vending machine in the break room.” She glanced at Lacie, who was now trying to get her sock off, too. “And I miss this little chaos gremlin,” she added, grinning. “Even if she does have a vendetta against tropical fruit.”

Nina huffed out a laugh, one hand brushing over Lacie’s curls as the toddler kept tapping her socked foot in rhythm, entirely unbothered by the chaos she’d caused. “I genuinely don’t know where she gets that temper from.” She began, voice light but laced with affection. “I've never thrown fruit at anyone...” But even as the words left her mouth, a vivid memory surfaced—of a rehearsal studio in San Francisco, the sharp echo of a pointe shoe slamming against the wall after she’d launched it at a smug fellow soloist who’d called her 'too soft' to ever dance Odette. That had been different, though, a more refined rage... Maybe. Her mouth twitched, almost a smile, before Camila’s words about the puppies caught up to her. “Oh god, I’m so glad I’m not a dog… One was bad enough.” She muttered, grimacing at the mental image of eight newborns yowling for attention. She gave a little shake of her head trying to rid her mind of the mere thought, then nudged the cart forward an inch to keep Lacie distracted with movement. After a moment, she spoke again. “It’s no lasagna, but… I got a baked ziti in the freezer if you ever feel like coming 'round sometime."

[camilapardo]

camila didn’t look away—not even when ellie dropped her gaze, tracing imaginary lines in the scuffed tile like it could offer her an escape. she knew that move. knew the way people tried to make themselves smaller when they felt like they’d taken up too much space. camila had felt it herself, more times than she could count. so she let the silence stretch, but not break, holding the space gently until ellie’s eyes found hers again. the return nudge made her breath hitch, just slightly. Just enough. “loads of churros, hm?” she echoed, one brow lifting. “you trying to give me a sugar coma or win me back?” she leaned into the question with a teasing edge, but it didn’t hide the softness underneath. camila wasn’t good at holding grudges. she wanted to be, sometimes, but when it came to ellie? it was harder. the girl had wormed her way into places camila didn’t know she’d left unguarded. at the offer, she glanced at the wall clock, then at the stack of files waiting behind the counter. her shoulders slumped, just a bit. “i’ve got two spay consults and a chihuahua with anxiety in like”—she checked her watch—“twenty minutes.” then her voice dropped, conspiratorial. “but... if you don’t mind coming with me on the post lunch rounds, i could sneak away for a bite. where are you taking me?” she bumped ellie’s knee again—deliberate this time. “and no, it’s not bribery if i let you pay.” her smile lingered, eyes on ellie like she was memorizing the moment. like maybe this time, she was letting herself believe that ellie really was staying.

ellie could feel her own guilt ebb, hanging off of every word that fell beautifully from camilas lips. like promises uttered in the still of the night, as if they were something ellie could genuinely hold on to. and a part of her did, part of her clung on to each one with a white knuckled grip. her gaze dropped for a moment, studying the pattern on the floor, something she had seen a million times before, but never cared to take notice of until now. like it had been a perfect distraction, something else she could focus on. but she quickly tugged her attention back, allowing her knee to follow the one that had just left hers so quickly. "fine, no therapy payments. but loads of churros. like so so many." she laughed, quick, soft, like it hadn't really meant to be heard. "are you by yourself all day today? how much longer do you have? i thought maybe i could take you to lunch. definitely not as bribery, no." her lips flattened into a line, attempting to hide the smile that threatened to take over. "unless it works in my favor." another nudge of her knee followed, eyes dragged along the girls face as she studied her reaction.

[camilapardo]

she nearly choked on the popcorn she’d just tossed into her mouth. her eyes widened in horror, disbelief, and pure delight all at once, and she threw her head back in a loud, genuine laugh that echoed through the apartment like a thunderclap. "nooo—" she groaned between gasps of laughter, one hand flying to cover her mouth as if that could somehow reverse the mental image that had now branded itself permanently in her brain. “willow! you can’t just drop that on me with zero warning!” she bent forward slightly, still laughing, her forehead gently resting against the top of willow’s head where it leaned against her leg. “jesus christ, and you say my jokes are bad,” she mumbled through the giggles, her fingers finding their way lazily into the other girl’s hair. a comforting, absentminded thing. pulling back just enough to meet her gaze again, camila’s smile softened. “okay, fine. that one wins. but only because it made me fear for my soul,” she teased, voice low and a little gravelly from laughing so hard. she took the tequila bottle from willow’s hand without hesitation, giving her a look like this is your fault before knocking back a quick swig. the burn hit, and she exhaled through clenched teeth with a hiss. “god, we’re gonna regret this tomorrow.” then, her expression shifted—eyes narrowing playfully, lips twitching with a smirk. “so did you actually go home with him? mr. piggy joke?”

willow lost herself in the fit of giggles that had followed camila's joke. head falling weightlessly onto the brunettes knees. her company always something of willow's favorite. everything was so effortless everytime the two of them had gotten together. the weight of her day dissipated into nothing, the worries that had plaqued her own mind--forgotten. lost within the tipsy giggles the pair had shared. finally she pulled herself out of it, blue orbs red and teary, met the woman's brown ones. cheeks sore from smiling for far too long, she finally wiped the stray tear that had seemingly escaped. "i am so stealing that, it is locked away into the notes stored deep in my brain." her pointer finger tapped softly along her temple as if she had been trying to make a point. she grabbed the earlier discarded bowl of popcorn, tossing a few pieces into her mouth before responding. "no, no no. it was so good. there are no such things as bad jokes. and if someone says theyre bad, they just have no taste." she held out the bowl in her friends direction, grabbing the bottle of tequila. she took a swig straight from the bottle, unbothered enough at this point to even think about shot glasses. her eyes clenched shut as she welcomed the burn the alcohol provided. "ok ok ok, someone used this on me once at the bar. i almost think they were trying to get me to go home with them. but--anyways. he said 'why can't miss piggy count to 70? because at 69, a frog gets stuck in her throat."

[camilapardo]

THE LAST OF US Season 2, Episode 4: Day One

[camilapardo]

Camila snorted, the kind of quiet laugh that cracked through her usual guardedness, like light slipping in through a half closed door. She leaned a little on her cart, arms folding lazily over the edge as she tilted her head toward Lacie, watching the toddler’s one shoed rhythm with something close to admiration. “Honestly? I think she might be the blueprint for how I wanna handle adulthood. Explode when I need to, and then vibe like nothing happened.” Her eyes flicked back to Nina, softening. “But yeah… life’s been alright. Clinic’s busy. I helped a grumpy golden retriever deliver eight puppies last night, so I slept about three hours and probably smell like warm fur and disinfectant.” There was a pause, a subtle shift, the kind of silence that felt more familiar than awkward between them. Camila let herself look at Nina fully now, taking in the messy hair and tired but still too kind eyes. It tugged at something in her chest, something she'd learned to ignore. “You still making lasagna for the neighborhood like it’s your part time job, or have you finally realized none of us deserve you?” she teased, lips curling at the edges. But there was something quieter in her voice too—something that hinted at missing this, missing her.

Nina let out a breath that was half laugh, half exhausted sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she looked from the bruised mango to Camila’s face. “Yeah, well... I think the mango’s holding it together better than I am today." She admitted with a tired smile, tone warm despite the chaos. Lacie, seemingly unbothered now, was humming to herself and tapping the cart with one shoe. When she'd managed to remove the shoe, the young mother couldn't say. “Y'know, she loved that thing like it was a pet until about a minute ago. Then apparently it committed a personal offense.” Oh toddler logic... More than once a day, Nina wished she could even understand a fraction of her daughter's thought pattern. "At least she got mad at the mango this time. I was her target this morning because her oatmeal was too wet." A beat. "She poured her apple juice into it..." Her gaze lingered on Camila for a beat as she adjusted the strap of her bag, just long enough to take her in properly. "How 'bout you? Life treating you well, kid?” It felt like just yesterday Camila had been the new girl on the block; and Nina was fussing over her like some strange mashup of mom and big sister, showing up with homemade lasagna and no concept of boundaries.

[camilapardo]

Camila let the nickname slide with a barely-there eye roll, but the edges of her mouth twitched upward again. Cami. No one really called her that—at least, not anymore. But coming from Harper, it didn’t sound annoying. Just… familiar. Easy. She watched Harper with a sort of bemused curiosity, taking in the flush in her cheeks, the alcohol fueled rambling, and the way her eyes sparkled like they didn’t know how to dim. Camila tilted her head slightly, that signature guarded smirk creeping across her lips. “You’re a walking hurricane,” she said, but it wasn’t meant to be an insult. If anything, there was an edge of affection buried somewhere beneath her dry tone. The compliment caught her off guard, though. She blinked once, then gave a little scoff as she glanced down at her wet crop top and shrugged off her jacket in one fluid motion. “I look like someone dumped a margarita on me, but thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself, considering you’ve apparently been dancing like your life depends on it.” Her brows lifted slightly at the mention of Coastal Closet. “Is that a bribe or a trap? 'Cause I’m not sure what kind of top I’m walking out of there with if you’re choosing.” But despite the sarcasm, Camila stepped up beside Harper now, resting her forearms against the bar as she waved the bartender down. “Vodka soda,” she said, then glanced at Harper. “And another whatever she was having. I’ll take the hit. It’s not every day I get tackled by someone I vaguely remember liking.” She turned to face her more directly, her tone softening just a touch as she added, “You’re here alone?”

As Harper's hands worked furiously on patting them down, the poor woman couldn't be any more apologetic if she tried. It wasn't until she recognized them, and they seemed to do the same, thankfully. Her orbs sparkled under the lights, and her smile simply grew even more infectiously. Her demeanor perked up a little. After spending the last hour by herself, it appears now hopefully she could have a new friend to spend time with. "Cami?" she blurted out the nickname. Of course, she'd remember her. How could she not? Many moons ago at a bonfire, but she had fun. Camila was nothing short of welcoming and sharing stories. It felt like she had made a friend for life, despite not seeing much of her since. "S-sorry about that," as she took the hint, her cheeks flush with embarrassment. Another hearty chuckle fell from the blonde's lips. Her blood was pumping from the alcohol she had consumed. "Oh, maybe it's just you," she teased with a wink. After a moment, her orbs gave her the once over, "Girl, it's been awhile. But damn you look good," she commented, grinning brightly. "No- no, of course. Absolutely. Whatever you'd like. It was terrible of me to stain your top," she added. "If you come to the coastal closet, I'll treat you to something," she offered, "What were you having? Or were you waiting for someone?" she bombarded the poor girl with questions. But, it appeared as if her friends weren't going to show, so she was going to be alone the rest of the night.

[camilapardo]

camila didn’t say anything at first. she just stared at her—at the girl who had vanished without a word and now stood in front of her with cafecito and cheese filled peace offerings, trying to hide her guilt behind sarcasm and those wide, nervous eyes. that was the thing about ellie: she never ran away out of malice. it was fear, plain and simple. camila had learned to spot the signs. still, it didn’t stop the ache that came with being left behind. again. she reached for the food with steady hands, brushing her fingers against ellie’s just briefly, her expression unreadable. “you think this buys you back into my good graces?” she asked, not coldly—just level, like she needed to be sure. but her mouth twitched at the corners, and she took a bite before ellie could answer. “it’s still warm,” she added, quieter. “good start.” camila let the contact linger. she listened without interrupting, letting ellie talk it out in her messy, self deprecating way, the way she always did when emotions were too close to the surface. when she finished, camila let out a soft breath and turned to look at her—really look at her. “you don’t owe me therapy payments, ellie. just... honesty. next time that voice in your head tells you to disappear? call me instead.” her voice was soft but firm, the way she talked to scared animals who didn’t know they were safe yet. “i don’t care if you don’t know what to say. just don’t vanish.” and then, because she could feel the guilt still clinging to ellie like a second skin, she bumped her knee with hers. “but yeah,” camila added with a shrug, “you still owe me emotional damages. i’m thinking churros next time.” the corner of her mouth finally tugged up into a full smile.

ellie worked up the courage to finally show her face. she usually didn't make a habit of falling off the face of the earth, but this time--her own insecurities had gotten the best of her. that little annoying voice in the back of her head encouraging her to run, get out of dodge, forget all of what she had built and start fresh. but she persisted, dealt with it in her own way. she didn't see how it would indirectly affect her friends, those she cared about, because frankly--she wasn't used to having people around for so long. but here she was, coming to right her wrongs. her first stop, camila. coffee and her favorite food in hand, she was certain it simply had to work. or at the very least, help. the moment the sound of the bell filled the waiting area, she held up the items as if they had been her sheild. chocolate orbs peeking up over them to clock her reaction. "i come bearing gifts, and how dare you think so lowly of me. gas station coffee? i wouldnt drink that tar myself, let alone buy it for you." her jaw grew slack, a look of faux hurt laced along the woman's features. but just as quickly, her smile returned, moving to sit. she began pulling the food from the bag, holding it out for her to take. that familiar comfort had begun to fill her again, returning the gesture--ellie nudged the brunettes shoulder with her own. "you have my word, no more ghosting from me. i just uh--had to deal with whatever it was going on in my head. and honestly--its a deal. i will pay up, and add a little extra because therapy or whatever it the cool kids do now a days." a smile offered itself up along her own features, eyes studying her reaction.

[camilapardo]

Camila blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confrontation in the middle of the grocery aisle. She was holding a basket filled mostly with pet food and a couple of cans for her dog, Zoe, who was probably snoring at home. The mango in the cart had landed near her feet, slightly bruised but otherwise fine. She gave a slow, easy smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes at first—she wasn’t much for small talk, especially when her mind was juggling the day’s clinic cases and the lingering worry about a stray dog she’d found earlier. But something about Nina’s frazzled expression tugged at her. “Hey, Camila said, stepping forward and crouching to pick up the mango, brushing a bit of dirt off it. “No harm done. Mango’s a survivor, I guess. Like me.” She stood up, meeting Nina’s eyes directly now, her voice steady but warm. “You alright? I can tell it’s been one of those days.”

closed starter for @camilapardo location: local grocery store

It had taken five minutes, two rejected avocados, and one very dramatic floor sit-in before Lacie had finally chosen the mango—round and golden with just enough green to make her believe it was still 'a baby', which apparently mattered. She’d cradled it the way most toddlers might a favorite stuffed animal, whispering to it, insisting it needed to stay in the seat with her. Nina hadn’t argued. She hadn't had the energy, not after the morning's great toothpaste debacle. The young mother was just relieved the fruit aisle hadn’t ended in another tantrum... until it did. Somewhere between the cereal and canned goods, something shifted in the universe (or maybe just in Lacie’s mood); and the beloved mango quickly became the enemy. With a huff and a wild little arm, Lacie launched it from the cart like a shot put. Nina gasped, grey hues tracking its trajectory as it soared, thumped, and landed right in the wire basket of another shopper’s cart. Mortified, she quickly abandoned her cart and crossed the short distance to retrieve the rogue fruit from the other's basket, voice already halfway to an apology, cheeks burning and words tumbling over themselves. "Fu—Fudge. I am sooo sorry about that. I—" Her gaze shifted up to the cart's owner, recognition instantly spreading over her features.

"Oh, uh, hey stranger..."

[camilapardo]

she leaned forward, forearms resting on the sticky table between them, her dark curls half tucked into a bun and falling loose around her face. the corner of her mouth quirked upward, a slow smirk forming like she’d already planned for this exact moment. her eyes—sharp, knowing, with just enough mischief to be dangerous—locked onto rhys with a quiet challenge. “i’d be offended if you didn’t,” she said, voice low and even, tinged with that teasing warmth she always carried. then, without looking, she reached across the table and grabbed her next shot—her sixth—and tipped it back like water. she set the glass down with a soft clink, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “but when it doesn’t go to shit—and it won’t—i’m making you buy me pancakes. and i mean real ones. not that dry-ass diner you keep dragging me to.” camila leaned back, finally settling into the booth’s corner, arms crossed as she watched him with a knowing glint. “c’mon, rhys. you know better than anyone—i don’t do stupid without a plan.”

Location: Luxe Starter Status: Open (assume connections)

"You really think that's a good idea?" Rhys laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back against the booth. His arm wrapped around the top, shot in his other hand before he downed it. "You're on your... what? Fifth shot now." A smirk spread across his lips, eyes locked on theirs. "I mean, yeah, I'll support you--I guess. But I'll definitely laugh and record it when it goes to shit."

[camilapardo]

TAGGING ┊@elliesurvived

LOCATION ┊ four paws wellness.

camila moved through the clinic with practiced ease, her scrubs smudged with fur and something she didn’t care to identify. she’d just finished cleaning up after a nervous terrier with a busted dewclaw, and the scent of antiseptic clung to her skin. the place was quiet now—just the low whir of machines in the back and the occasional shuffle from the kennels. she stood at the front counter, jotting notes into a chart, though her focus kept drifting toward the door. when the bell finally rang, she looked up without meaning to, and there she was—ellie, hoodie wrinkled, curls damp from the humidity, holding a paper bag and a coffee like she hadn’t vanished for three weeks. camila blinked once, then set the clipboard down with a thud. “you’re late,” she said, brushing her hands on her thighs as she stepped around the counter. ellie shrugged like it was nothing and dropped the bag on the desk. “bribery?” she asked. camila raised an eyebrow, accepting the coffee with a soft grunt. “if this is gas station coffee, we’re done.” camila watched her for a moment longer than she meant to, then joined her with a tired exhale. she nudged ellie’s knee with her own. “you ghost me again, i’m charging you for emotional damages.” it was a joke, mostly. but when ellie didn’t answer right away, camila didn’t press. she just leaned back, sipping her coffee, letting the silence fill up with the sound of ellie being here again.

[camilapardo]

camila’s grin tugged at the corner of her mouth, crooked and full of mischief. she was half sitting on the arm of the couch, her legs lazily draped over the cushions like she belonged there—which she kind of did now, in the unspoken way people do after one too many late nights and shared breakfasts. “that bad, hm?” she mused, a brow arched like she was already plotting her next terrible punchline. her voice was low, warm with amusement, a little raspy from the long day she'd had at the clinic. there was a smudge of something—probably dog fur or maybe a little dirt from the stables—on the sleeve of her oversized flannel, but she hadn’t noticed, and honestly, neither did willow. camila leaned in just a bit, like she was sharing a secret. “okay, okay. i’ll give you a fighting chance. let’s bring the quality up a whole half notch.” her hand gestured vaguely, drawing an invisible line in the air. she paused for dramatic effect, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “why did the duck go to therapy?” her dark eyes sparkled, waiting. “because it had deep seated quackxiety.” she didn’t even try to hold back the stupid grin that followed, teeth and dimples and all, her shoulders already shaking with silent laughter. “c’mon,” she said through the giggles, “that one was at least bad enough to be good, right?”

starter status — open ; assume connections. location — willow's apartment.

willow's bubbly laughter had filled the room. baby blues blurred with unshed tears, as it had finally began to slow, her head lulled back against the back of her couch. her gaze lingered on theirs for a beat before she had finally spoken aloud, "you know, i don't know if i have ever heard a joke quite as bad as that one. so bravo, you absolutely knocked it out of the park." her breathing had finally begun to even out, a dopey smile still etched along her lips as if it had become something permanent. "i don't think i could even attempt to top that, you're going to have to give me something a little bit less terrible that i can compete with."