demirxaslan

[demirxaslan]

His mouth curved, but it wasn’t his usual half-smile—this one had a sharper edge. She thought he was retreating? Cute. That competitive fire in her eyes almost made him laugh, except he knew better than to underestimate a woman who could cut him open with a sentence. Too good to be true, his instincts warned, the same instincts that had kept him alive in Devil’s Junction longer than he should’ve been. But he wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of watching him fold. “Forfeit?” he echoed, leaning in slightly, his voice low and steady. “Not my style either. You should know that by now. I don’t start something unless I intend to see it through.” It may have been what he'd done, backtracking thanks to being a bit too honest with her, but he couldn't admit to that--not easily.

He let the words hang for a moment, letting her catch the double edge in them. A challenge. A promise. A warning. “Second best isn’t in my vocabulary either. I like to win. And if you think I’m the type to retreat when things get interesting, maybe you haven’t been paying as close attention as you think.” He tilted his head, gaze unwavering, letting her see he wasn’t going to blink first. “Handle the heat?” His smile returned then, slow and deliberate. “I thrive in it. You’ll have to bring more than clever jabs and good conversation to scare me off.” There it was—the part of him that always pushed back, even when caution whispered that everything about her spelled trouble. Especially because it spelled trouble. And with Anais Ortiz, Demir was absolutely falling in trouble, day by day, moment by moment.

He was retreating already - cute. She could practically see him mentally backpedaling from his comment about her being around for awhile, like he'd accidentally shown too much of his hand. "Planning to forfeit already? That's not very confident of you," she said, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice. "And here I thought you were all about rising to challenges." She wasn't going to let him off the hook for that slip about wanting her around - it was endearing how flustered he got when he revealed more than he meant to. Making her squirm since the grocery store though - he wasn't wrong about that. She'd been off balance from the moment he'd smiled at her in the produce section, and apparently she wasn't hiding it as well as she thought.

"Second best has never been my style," she said, taking another sip and watching his face for his reaction. The coffee really was exceptional, which was both annoying and impressive. His competitiveness comment made her raise an eyebrow - now that was interesting. Most men found her competitive streak intimidating rather than attractive. "Ms. Ortiz? Are we being formal now? And here I thought we were past the professional boundaries." She leaned back in her chair, studying him with renewed interest. "You know what I find attractive? Someone who doesn't back down when things get interesting. Think you can handle that level of heat, or are you just going to keep retreating every time you say something real?"

[demirxaslan]

Demir leaned back slightly, letting his gaze settle on Ulysses with a mixture of calm and something harder to read—experience. “I get it. Protecting what’s yours… that’s not just pride, it’s survival. You can’t hand over pieces of yourself just because someone decides to poke at it.” He let the words hang for a moment, then added more softly, “And yeah, sometimes the cops only make things messier. You’re better off knowing what you’re up against before calling anyone in. Makes the victory… cleaner.” He gave a faint smirk, shrugging. “My story? Let’s just say I’ve been in a few situations where someone underestimated what I could handle. And by the time they realized their mistake, well… it was already too late for regrets. That part usually makes people feel better—knowing someone else’s made it through without losing what mattered most.” He leaned forward slightly, tone deliberate but not unkind. “Just remember, it’s not about letting them scare you, I know you're not scared but it’s about making sure when they do mess with you, they learn it’s a mistake they won’t repeat.”

ulysses knew he was right but sometimes, it was just hard for him to be the bigger person when they went after something that he'd worked so hard for. he inhaled a deep breath, "i just don't want a bunch of cop sniffing around my place either." he had shit to hide and he wasn't sure if reporting whoever did this was going to be worth it. "but you're right. i'm definitely going to make sure whoever did this, gets what's coming to them. they're going regret ever fuckin' with me." he paused, glancing over at him. "i don't know. kind of sounds like you know. come on, maybe your story will make me feel better."

[demirxaslan]

Demir’s mouth curved into that grin she hated admitting she missed, all slow confidence and just enough danger stitched into it. “Somewhere we’re not supposed to be?” he echoed, tilting his head like he was weighing just how much trouble she could handle. Then he reached for her hand without warning, fingers closing warm and sure around hers. “Alright then. No funnel cake. No half-measures. Let’s see if you can keep up.” He didn’t give her time to question it before he was pulling her along the shadowed edge of the tents, weaving past coiled ropes and stacks of crates until the noise of the midway dulled into the hum of generators and distant applause. A guard strolled by with a flashlight, and Demir yanked her against him, pressing her into the velvet drape of a curtain until the light passed. His breath brushed her ear, a whisper laced with amusement. “Still think I’m overselling the mysterious guide routine?”

When he finally tugged the curtain aside, it wasn’t some backlot mess. It was the heart of the circus—the giant striped tent from above. He’d found a hidden ladder up to the catwalks, the kind of place only performers and riggers would ever be allowed. “You wanted risk? Welcome to the best seat in the house.” He climbed first, then offered her a steadying hand as she followed, the whole place opening beneath them once they reached the narrow platform. From there, the world looked surreal—the glitter of the ring, the acrobats mid-flight, the audience gasping in unison. It was dizzying, breathtaking, dangerous. Exactly like she was to him. Demir leaned close, his shoulder brushing hers as if they were the only two people who’d ever seen this view. “Worth it?” he asked, voice low, eyes catching the golden light from below. There was challenge there, but also something unguarded—like he wanted her answer more than he’d admit.

He really wasn't going to make this easy for her, and part of her liked that more than she should have. "Well, when you put it like that, hazard pay does sound significantly better than sugar," she said, matching his tone with just enough challenge to keep things interesting. He kept talking about magic tricks and mistakes like they were the same thing, and honestly, that tracked with most of her recent decisions anyway. "Trapdoors and shadow corners ... you're really selling this whole mysterious circus guide thing, aren't you?"

She could feel herself leaning into whatever game they were playing here, which was either smart or spectacularly stupid, but she'd figure that out later. "I have to say, boring was never really an option with you, was it? Even at the grocery store you managed to make buying milk feel like some kind of adventure." She understood his question implied a choice: safety or adventure. "Look, if I wanted funnel cake, I would have stayed home and ordered dessert delivery. I'm here because you promised to show me something worth the risk." She stepped closer, close enough that she had to look up to meet his eyes. "I want to see you deliver, Demir. Take me somewhere we're not supposed to be."

[demirxaslan]

Demir leaned back, running a hand over his jaw like he was smoothing out something jagged. “Yeah… Izel isn’t just some name in the past. And I didn’t exactly leave things on a high note. I was reckless, selfish—hell, I thought I was bigger than the city, bigger than her. And she paid for that more than I did.” He let out a hmourless laugh, shaking his head. “So if she shows up, it won’t be easy. There’s bad blood. Some of it’s on me, some of it’s her knowing exactly where to cut when she wants to draw blood back. That’s who she is—sharp enough to make you bleed without even raising her voice.”

Demir’s eyes narrowed slightly, but not at Cedric—at the memory itself. “But here’s the thing: I didn’t come back to repeat my old mistakes. I can’t undo what I did to her, but I sure as hell can keep it from bleeding into what I’m building now. You’ve got my word on that. Whatever’s between me and Izel—it stays outside these walls. Business first. Always.” He paused, then smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just don’t expect me to roll over entirely and play nice if she decides to twist the knife. That’s one of her talents I never forgot.”

Cedric nodded, setting the notebook down between them. "Alright, so you've got history with her. That's not automatically a problem unless you make it one," he said, keeping his voice steady and practical. Most people tried to pretend their past didn't exist when it came to work, but Demir was being upfront about his mistakes which actually made things easier to navigate. "When she shows up here with business to handle, can you keep whatever went wrong between you two out of my operation? Because I need to know you won't let personal drama mess with how debts get tracked or fights get scheduled." He'd seen too many good setups fall apart because someone couldn't separate their feelings from the work that needed doing. The kid seemed determined to do better this time around, which was promising, but determination and actually pulling it off were two different things entirely. "Everyone's got people in their past they'd rather not deal with, but in this business those people have a habit of walking back into your life whether you're ready or not."

[demirxaslan]

Demir really did enjoy Forrest's sense of humour and while he knew he shouldn't be enjoying this whole thing--until it got bad, he didn't have to interfere. "Look at you, thinking three steps ahead already, admirable quality really." Demir grinned at him explaining the profits he'd make from this merch line he was planning. "I think you're on the right track for sure. Admission fees, hike those up but give them a discounted couple for buying merch to justify the pricing. You know what I mean? And bad nachos for the annoying demanding customers, but some decent ones for the normal people." He chuckled, "they'll be left confused why their food tastes like crap while others love it." Demir grinned before contemplating the other's words. "I'll run commentary, feels more my style anyways."

“Hey, if they start rooting for the underdog, that’s just free drama we don’t have to pay for,” Forrest said, grinning like he’d already figured out how to spin it. “Means I can roll out a ‘miracle comeback’ merch line when the favorite wins anyway. Overpriced, limited edition, completely pointless ... exactly the kind of thing people love.” He liked the way this whole exchange felt like they were building a fake empire out of nothing - way better than dealing with anything that actually mattered. Real work didn’t come with this kind of entertainment value. “So yeah, we slap on admission fees, set up a merch table, maybe even a concession stand with nachos so bad they’re memorable. We’ll be legends in our own very specific niche.” He nodded toward the chaos. “What’s it gonna be. .. you calling the shots, or am I running the commentary?”

[demirxaslan]

FIN.

"Exactly right, mate. The ones who don't need a bloody manual to understand you." Nox finished his whiskey, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. This conversation had run its course, hadn't it, and they'd said what needed saying, found that common ground between two people who understood what it meant to carry baggage without letting it define every choice you made. Christ, when had he become the type to sit around analyzing relationships like some philosopher—it must be Elisa's influence, making him think about things beyond the next job. He'd made that stupid wager with her, a hundred quid that he wouldn't get tired of her company, and here he was planning his entire future around Devil's Junction like some lovesick fool, but maybe that's what sticking around actually looked like when you found someone who didn't need footnotes for every conversation. "Well then, I should let you get back to it," he said, pushing back from the table and standing. "Take care of yourself, yeah? And don't let the chaos swallow you whole." He gave a brief nod, then turned and walked away.

COMPLETED

[demirxaslan]

"If you're anything like this in the kitchen, maybe I'll forfeit," Demir chuckled as he looked at her and shook his head. "It might not be a bad thing because it means you're planning to be around for awhile." He realized quickly how much that sounded like him being a bit clingy and quickly retreated. "But honestly Anais, it's not hard for you to get me to squirm," he admitted with a small smile. "You've been doing it since that night in the grocery store." Demir watched the way she took that sip of the coffee and prayed she enjoyed it. "You see it in the same way I do. Once you find the best...you know better than to settle for second best."

He didn't pretend her words didn't hit him in the right spot but he also didn't put too much emphasis on them right now, eager to ensure she knew he was comfortable taking this at her speed. "Hmm, you drive a hard bargain Ms. Ortiz," he smiled before scoffing at her words. "I'll buy the next round even if you think it's not smoke and mirrors because I can be a gentleman." He told her with a grin before raising a brow at the level of competition she was exuding. "You know--ask me later and I might not admit it, but this competitiveness if yours is quite a turn on."

“You’re really confident for someone who hasn’t seen me cook yet,” she said, mouth curving like she already knew she’d get the upper hand. “If you lose, I’m never letting you forget it. I’ll bring it up at the most inconvenient times just to watch you squirm.” She took a slow sip, more to give herself a second than because she needed it. He had a point about comparisons - once you get used to better, settling feels impossible. That applied to more than coffee, but she wasn’t about to hand him that piece outright. “And yeah … once the bar’s higher, everything else looks different. Makes choosing who you let in a little trickier too.”

It was easier to keep that line casual than admit it landed closer than she meant. His job description comment pulled a small grin from her. “Charm as an official duty? Guess I’ll need to see the pay bump before I start putting in the extra hours.” The legendary magic line made her shake her head, though her curiosity was already working against her better judgment. “Alright, magician, I’ll play along. But if it’s all smoke and mirrors, you’re buying the next round - and I’m ordering top shelf.” She liked the way this was unfolding, even if part of her brain kept trying to remind her she wasn’t supposed to like it this much. “You wanted competition? You’ve got it. Just hope you’re ready for the kind of game where I don’t let up until I win.”

[demirxaslan]

Demir’s grin edged slow, like he knew she was testing him and enjoyed every second of it. “Safe’s overrated,” he said, voice dipping lower as though sharing a secret in the middle of the noise. “Besides, hazard pay makes the night sound a lot more interesting than cotton candy ever could.” He let his gaze linger, unhurried, before he glanced at the flashing lights around them. “Backstage, hm?” he repeated, as if weighing her challenge. “If you wanted sequins and smoke breaks, you should’ve gone with someone boring. I’m talking trapdoors, shadow corners, the kind of place that makes you wonder if you wandered into a magic trick or a mistake.” His tone made it clear he wouldn’t be drawing the line between the two for her.

He leaned a fraction closer, just enough to blur the sounds of the crowd into a hum. “And if you’re curious whether I’ve got pull or I just like pushing us past where we’re supposed to be—” his smile crooked sharper, teasing, “—you’ll have to let me prove it. But fair warning, once the curtain drops, it’s not sequins you’ll be watching.” He tilted his head toward her, dark eyes holding hers. “So tell me—are you here for the funnel cake, or are you here to see if I actually deliver?”

“You really know how to make a girl feel safe,” she said, her mouth curving as she matched his look without blinking. “Good to hear the clowns are banned from this little tour, though hazard pay is still on the table if needed.” She wasn’t sure when she’d stopped thinking about the bigger picture and started just enjoying throwing lines back at him, but it had happened fast. He talked about that edge like it was a place he lived, and it made her want to see what that looked like up close, even if she shouldn’t. “Front-row to disaster sounds like you’re hoping I’ll cheer it on,” she added, her tone somewhere between mocking and intrigued.

The mess-keeping-you-moving bit landed harder than she wanted, though she didn’t let it show. “Guess standing still isn’t really my thing either.” She caught the promise under his voice and decided not to pick at it. “Alright, no flaming sleeves, but if we’re going backstage, I expect more than a peek at some rigging and a guy in sequins sneaking a smoke.” It was half a joke, half a challenge, and she knew he’d hear it that way. “You’re making it sound like there’s this whole hidden level to the place, and I’m curious if you’ve actually got the pull or if you’re just planning to talk us into somewhere we’re not supposed to be.” Her smile lingered, sharper now. “Either way, if you’re promising a night worth the risk, you’d better deliver more than a story about how the funnel cake was the real winner.”

[demirxaslan]

Demir leaned against the hood of his car, watching the scene play out like it was some poorly written street play—Adem yelling, merchants scattering, counterfeit trinkets left behind like confetti after a parade. He didn’t even flinch when the gun came out. That was the Solis way: quick to anger, quicker to brandish power. He knew this of course since he'd been trying to get an in with the family from the start. It was how he and Adem knew each other as well. “Tripling the amount, huh?” he said finally, voice low but edged with a wry amusement. “Bold strategy. Shame they chose flight over fight—you might’ve actually made enough for coffee money.” He nodded at the pile of knockoff Labubus—Lafufus, whatever nonsense branding they were trying to pass it off as—and shook his head. “Only you would nearly start an international incident over stuffed animals.” His mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. “But hey, maybe you’re onto something. These fakes might actually sell better than the real thing. People love an illusion, costs less to believe in it.”

He picked up one of the counterfeit toys, turning it over in his hands, studying the crooked stitching and cheap fabric. “Funny. Whole district fights for control of gems, guns, trade routes… and here you are holding a plush toy like it’s worth pulling a trigger over.” He dropped it back onto the stall, brushing his hands clean like even touching it left residue. “Careful, Adem. One day you’ll forget which battles matter—and by then, you’ll be the one standing in front of a gun for the wrong reasons.” His gaze lingered a moment longer before he straightened, as if shrugging off the weight of his own words. “Still… I hear Lafufus are collectible. Maybe you’ll make a killing yet.”

❛ ☾ ◟━ LOCATION: trade district

❛ ☾ ◟━ TIME: noon

❛ ☾ ◟━ STATUS: open to everyone - no cap

It was shipment day for the Solises and Adem needed to deliver some items to the Trade District hence why he was driving his car. Upon arriving, he parked and could already feel a wave of dread as he noticed a stall that was out of place. "Ne siktiğimin işi bu!?" he exclaimed in his native tongue while he got out of his car. While he knew that the merchants wouldn't understand him, he still said it anyways. "If you want to sell here, you need to pay a deposit up front and cash only. Just for that I'm tripling the amount. Pay up." However, the seller began cleaning up as if they were going to leave instead which only pissed Adem off even more. Pulling out his gun, he pointed it at them directly and instructed them to drop everything and leave. Within seconds, they all scurried away leaving him with a stall of unwanted merchandise.

Walking towards the table, he picked it up to assess the item and noticed they were counterfeit Labubus. "Hm, if only they were real, I would have given this to my employer..." Remembering how obsessed Marisol was about it. Turning to one of the bystanders he then asked, "—You want one? They're all the rage even if they're fake. They're Lafufus."

*Ne siktiğimin işi bu!: What the fuck is this bullshit?

[demirxaslan]

He laughed, the sound easy and genuine as he shook his head. “You’re something else, Forrest. Convenience fee for dodging flying chairs? That’s a premium charge if I ever heard one.” He glanced around, watching the chaos unfold with an amused but knowing eye. “VIP insults, huh? Sounds like you’re angling for the top spot in this circus.” He took a slow sip from his bottle of water, letting the noise of the crowd fade into background buzz for a moment. “You’re right though — there’s something about harmless chaos that feels a hell of a lot better than the kind that comes with paperwork and trouble. I’ll take popcorn and ringside commentary over a busted jaw or a ruined deal any day.” Demir gave Forrest a sideways grin, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. “Start charging admission, split the profits, and maybe we’ll have ourselves a proper business model. You're speaking my language, my man." Demir grinned at Forrest once more before clearing his throat. "Just don’t blame me when the crowd starts rooting for the underdog.”

“For the invoice, go ahead and add a convenience fee for not having to dodge any flying chairs,” Forrest said, smirking like he was already halfway amused by his own nonsense. “Front-row’s nice, but I’m holding out for the VIP experience where I get to pick the insults.” It crossed his mind how rare it was to just enjoy noise without anyone ending up with broken teeth, and yeah, he’d take this over work any day. Harmless arguments were like finding loose change - not life-changing, but worth keeping. “Wrong business? Maybe. But chaos that doesn’t come with paperwork is my kind of retirement plan.” He glanced between the two combatants, secretly rooting for neither because the fun was in the stalemate. “Blood feud or not, we switch to popcorn and ringside commentary, we’ll have the best show in town.” He flicked a look at Demir, grin edging wider. “Might even start charging admission... split the profits, keep it professional.”

[demirxaslan]

His eyes flickered briefly as Cedric mentioned Izel, a subtle tension tightening his jaw and settling deep beneath his skin. He took a slow breath, the weight of the name dragging him back to a chapter he wasn’t eager to revisit. “Izel, huh,” he murmured, voice low and careful, as if speaking the name aloud might summon the ghosts of his past mistakes. “She’s someone I know. More than I probably should.” His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the notebook, a restless gesture betraying the calm he tried to wear. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms,” he admitted quietly. “I made a mess of things — screwed up in ways that still catch up with me now.” There was no excuse for what happened, no quick fix or easy explanation that could erase the fallout between them.

Demir’s gaze drifted for a moment, distant as if seeing that past version of himself through a fogged window. “Funny how the past keeps dragging its weight around, even when you’re trying to move forward. It’s not just about knowing the ropes anymore — it’s about facing what you left tangled behind.” He looked back down at the notebook, the task at hand suddenly heavier with personal history. “But maybe that’s the point,” he said with a quiet determination settling into his tone. “This isn’t just a job to learn, it’s a chance to do it right — not just for me, but for everyone who got caught up in the wreckage I left behind. I’m not planning to make the same mistakes twice.” He closed the brief moment of reflection with a firm nod, straightening his shoulders as if steeling himself for what was to come. “So yeah, it’s complicated. But if I’m going to be here, I’m going to handle it — all of it — the right way this time.”

Cedric nodded, appreciating how Demir just took the notebook without making a big deal about it. "Start with the Solis family, they're your easiest learning curve," he said, pulling his chair closer to the desk. "Izel handles most of their business here, keeps things professional, pays on time, doesn't try to negotiate rules that aren't negotiable." Most people wanted to jump straight into the complicated family drama, but starting simple made more sense when you were trying to build up a working knowledge of who was who around here. "She usually brings one of her men with her depending on what kind of dispute needs settling, but they're all straightforward—show up when they're supposed to, fight clean, settle their debts without drama." Honestly it was nice explaining this to someone who understood why record-keeping mattered instead of rolling their eyes about paperwork—too many people thought this job was all about looking tough and throwing punches when really half of it was just basic organization and knowing how to talk to people without setting them off.

[demirxaslan]

He nodded slowly, the weight of Nox’s words settling deep. “Yeah, it’s rare, isn’t it? Finding someone who just accepts the mess without trying to fix it or score points off it.” He took a slow breath, feeling the sting of past mistakes but also the quiet strength that came from not having to explain every piece of brokenness. He wanted to know deep down if Anais could be that person for him, but he was scared to admit his truth to her. That was enough for him to know how real he felt about her. “I guess that’s what keeps you going—knowing you don’t have to carry it all alone, and that not everyone’s keeping a ledger of your screw-ups.” His gaze held Nox’s steady. “Those are the ones you make space for. Because at the end of the day, it’s not about clean histories or perfect stories—it’s about the ones willing to stand in the wreckage with you.”

"Absolutely right, mate. Someone who sees the wreckage and doesn't immediately start planning renovations." Nox took another sip, letting the burn settle while his mind wandered to that bloody wager with Elisa and how he'd bet a hundred quid he wouldn't get tired of her company, which seemed mental at the time but now felt like the smartest gamble he'd ever made since she never asked him to explain every scar or justify why he carried three phones. "Most people need a full bloody biography before they'll share a drink with you. Want to know every mistake you've made so they can decide if you're worth their time." He set his glass down, meeting Demir's gaze directly. "But the ones who stick around without needing the whole story first, those are the ones you hold onto. They get that we're all carrying baggage and some of it's better left unpacked."

[demirxaslan]

Demir let out a low chuckle, the kind that softened the edges of his usual guarded expression. “It's definitely a challenge I’m willing to take,” he said, eyes meeting hers with a mix of mischief and something quieter beneath the surface. “But fair warning — once you’ve tasted the good stuff, it’s hard to go back without comparing every other cup to it.” He leaned back slightly, a slow smile playing at his lips. “I’m looking forward to seeing if you can back up that kitchen confidence. Competition’s good — keeps things interesting.” There was a pause where the noise around them seemed to fade, and for a moment Demir let himself appreciate how easy it was to be here, like this, without walls up or defences ready.

“You’re right about the ‘no going back’ thing,” he admitted softly. “Once you know the ins and outs — whether it’s coffee or life — you start seeing things in a different light. Makes you think twice about the choices you make, and maybe who you choose to share them with.” Demir gave her another look before shrugging, "you have all the charm Anais, I'm not surprised it's going on your job description," he grinned before looking back at her. "My magic is legendary in its own right, I can't wait for you to see it all." It was crazy to think about how nervous he'd once been around her and now--he felt like they were actually building towards something very real.

Anais finally took a sip, letting it linger just long enough before setting the cup back down. “Rewrite boring? That’s ambitious. But I guess if anyone could make me reconsider the definition, it’d be you,” she said, tone easy but threaded with a little challenge. “And I’m not in the habit of refusing good coffee, so yeah … maybe I’ll let you take the blame when every other cup starts tasting like a downgrade.” Inside, she could recognize how quickly he pulled her into his rhythm - not because she didn’t see it, but because it was easier to let it happen than to fight it. Certain people just had that pull, and Demir seemed to live in that territory. “No secrets yet, huh? Fine. I can play along. But just know, if you’re inviting me to cook with you, I’m competitive. If I can beat you in your own kitchen, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

The thought of actually being in his space like that was… distracting. Her own rules about staying casual with him felt way less solid than they had an hour ago. “And as for this whole ‘no going back’ thing, my job’s taught me that once you’ve seen the inner workings of something, you can’t unsee it. I guess that applies to coffee too.” There was a flicker of curiosity she didn’t bother hiding; not about the drink, but about whatever he thought she’d find there. “Security downstairs already thinks I’m running half the city’s petty scandals through my office. If they stop me, I’ll just add ‘civic charm maintenance’ to my job description.” She took another sip, as if weighing her next words, then let a grin curl in. “Alright then … guess the only thing left is to see if this magic of yours actually holds up outside a coffee cup.”

[demirxaslan]

Demir’s grin deepened as he caught the spark in her eyes—the kind that said she was daring him just as much as she was daring herself. “Marginally less sensible, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment,” he teased, sliding his hand back into his pocket while keeping his gaze locked on hers. “And don’t worry, the clowns are strictly off-limits. I’ve got a personal vendetta against anyone who thinks pieing someone in the face counts as comedy.” He followed her glance to the juggling pins, nodding slowly. “Yeah, those pins are definitely flirting with disaster. But there’s something about pushing that edge—the risk, the rush—that’s hard to walk away from. You don’t get adrenaline without a little chaos, right?” His tone softened for a beat, almost reflective. “Sometimes the mess is exactly the thing that keeps you from feeling like you’re standing still.”

When she challenged him, his eyes flickered with amusement and something deeper, a silent promise of the unexpected. “No sleeves catching fire tonight, I swear. But since you’re skipping the safe stuff, there’s a whole side of this circus most people don’t see—backstage secrets, stunts that don’t make the show, and maybe a few gambles that pay off better than funnel cake ever could.” He nudged her gently with his shoulder, voice dropping just low enough for her alone. “Consider this your official warning Miss. Ortiz, I’m about to show you a night worth the risk. And if I don’t, well... I’ve got a sweet tooth for funnel cake too.”

Anais giggled before she could stop it. “Braver? Try marginally less sensible,” she said, glancing at him like she already knew he’d claim credit for that. “And yes, please keep the clowns well out of sight or I’m billing you for emotional damages.” Her gaze flicked toward the jugglers and lingered - not on the fire exactly, more on how close the pins flew to the people in the front row. She’d seen that kind of push-the-limit energy before, more in people than performances, and it had a habit of pulling her in even when she knew better. “Those things get any nearer and we’re looking at a side show called Stop, Drop, and Roll,” she said dryly.

The familiar part he mentioned stuck in her head longer than she wanted to admit - she wasn’t about to let the conversation sink into any self-revealing territory, but there was a part of her that got it, in a way she didn’t want to unpack here. “You’re right though. Sometimes it’s hard to walk away from the mess when it’s got just the right amount of adrenaline in it.” Her default was to keep a buffer around herself, yet here she was, indulging the pull forward without resistance. “I can handle more than a little risk,” she added, tone light but carrying its own quiet dare, “but I’m not signing my name to the incident report if you set your sleeves on fire.” A part of her liked the idea of him testing her, which was both irritating and oddly energizing. “Let’s skip the safer spots,” she decided with a small shake of her head, “sugar’s predictable. Show me something worth the gamble, and if I walk away thinking it wasn’t, you’re buying me funnel cake as compensation.”

[demirxaslan]

He huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or entertained himself. “Glad the establishment could provide your evening’s entertainment, Forrest. I’ll send you an invoice for front-row seats.” His tone was dry, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him with the faintest smirk. He glanced back at the two still arguing, letting the noise of it wash over him for a moment. There was something almost comforting about how low the stakes were—no one posturing for power, no knives hidden behind smiles, just stubborn pride over who tripped who first. “You know,” he said, tilting his head toward Forrest, “if this is the kind of chaos you like, you might be in the wrong business. Give it five minutes and somebody will figure out how to turn this into a blood feud.” Still, there was a flicker in his expression—some part of him that clearly preferred this kind of harmless fire to the real thing. After all, Demir knew these two and knew they were not the type to wreck havoc and cause chaos, partially why he enjoyed watching them go at it. “But hey, if it stays at this level, I’ll buy the popcorn. We can make a night of it.”

CLOSED STARTER

LOCATION: Grudge Box FOR: @demirxaslan

“No, please continue. I’m actually enjoying this,” Forrest said, a lazy grin spreading across his face. He didn’t even try to hide how entertained he was - watching two guys bicker about who technically tripped over the other first was better than cable. “Seriously, I haven’t seen this much passion since my brother tried to convince me he was taller.” He shot a look at Demir, raising his eyebrows as if to say, Can you believe these guys? He always had a soft spot for pointless arguments, especially when nobody was bleeding. yet. He thought it was nice to see people getting worked up over something that didn’t end with a trip to the ER. Honestly, this was the kind of chaos he could get behind.

[demirxaslan]

His mouth curved into the faintest grin, the kind that didn’t quite give away whether he was amused or just quietly filing something away. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone even, but with a weight that suggested he was actually listening—maybe more than most. “I’m not here to reinvent the wheel, just see how it turns… and maybe make sure it doesn’t roll over me in the process.” He let the words sit there, not rushing to fill the silence. Bastian’s easy shrug and matter-of-fact tone didn’t feel like a dismissal, more like an open door he could step through when it made sense. “Learning’s not a problem. I figure if you watch long enough, you see where the cracks are—and who’s good at patching them.” He met Bastian’s gaze briefly, not challenging, just acknowledging the offer. “I’ll ask if I need something. No point in pretending I’ve got it all handled before I even know what ‘it’ is.” For a moment, he glanced past Bastian toward the rest of the space, taking in the quiet hum of movement and conversation. This was one of those places where people showed you who they were without trying, and he knew better than to force his own reveal too early. “Appreciate it,” he added, and it sounded like he meant it.

Bastian let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, fair enough. Sounds like you know what you want, or at least you’re not afraid to find out along the way. Honestly, that’s more than most people bring to the table around here.” He didn’t bother pressing for more details - if Demir wanted to stir things up, he’d see it soon enough. People come through all the time acting like they’ve got some grand plan, but half of them just want to see if they can handle the pace. No reason to make it complicated. “If you’re here to learn, you’ll pick things up fast. Everyone’s got their own way of handling the mess, just don’t be surprised if yours ends up looking different from the next guy’s.” He shrugged, not trying to read into anything. No point guessing what he’s after. If he sticks around, he’ll figure out where he fits. If not, he’ll move on. Simple as that. “You need anything, just ask. People usually do.”

[demirxaslan]

It was so refreshing to see Anais assimilate so well into his world, into a corner of his life that he'd kept so hidden from most in his life. It showed him that maybe, just maybe, they could make something work here. "Oh wow--you're giving me high praise," he chuckled watching her reaction as she swirled the cup in her hands but hadn't taken a sip yet. “Boring isn’t exactly in my vocabulary, Anais. If anything, maybe I’m learning to rewrite it... but only when it matters.” He leaned in a little closer, eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity that held more than just playful banter. “As for being ruined for other cortados… well, I’ll take full responsibility if you find yourself refusing anything less than what I make. But honestly, I’m not ready to give away all my secrets yet. A magician never reveals all his tricks.”

There was a brief pause as he searched her face, wondering how much of this she’d see—and how much he wanted her to. “Consider this your official invitation to test those kitchen skills. But be warned—once you get a taste, there’s no going back.” His voice dropped just enough to feel like a shared secret. “And as for security downstairs, if they start questioning, tell them it’s all part of the job… keeping the city’s charm intact.” His smile softened, just a little, like he was letting down a carefully held guard—hoping she might see the man behind the façade, and maybe, just maybe, let him in a little more. Though even thinking that wasn't okay. He needed to tell her his truth. Being a former felon wasn't something easy for just anyone to accept and while Anais had been brilliant at accepting everything he was throwing her way--he was still nervous about that truth of his. 

Anais took the coffee, quirking a brow at Demir’s confidence, letting his words hang between them just long enough to make him wonder if she’d call his bluff. “You? Boring? Please … I’d pay to see you try. But I don’t think you’ve got it in you,” she teased, swirling the cup in her hands. She caught the way he leaned in, the little spark in his eye when he talked about accountants and being ruined for other women, and it was so easy to fall into the banter that she almost forgot why she was supposed to keep him at arm’s length. God, he was good at this. Too good. There was a time when she’d have seen that as a red flag - a man who could talk anyone into anything - but now it just made her want to see how far he’d go if she kept pushing.

It was almost frustrating how much she liked the game, how her need for control faded around him in a way that felt dangerous and freeing in equal measure. Maybe that was the real risk—not that he’d break her rules, but that she’d want him to. “You know, you’re making it really hard for me to stick to my ‘no charming men in government buildings’ policy. Security downstairs probably thinks I’m running an underground dating service at this point.” She let her tone drop, voice conspiratorial. “So, this magical coffee … am I supposed to thank you now, or after I’m ruined for all other cortados? Because I’m not above bribery if it means getting a lesson in those secret kitchen skills. Or are you the type who likes to keep a few tricks up his sleeve?” She smirked, daring him to answer, already planning her next move - though she’d never admit how much she wanted to see what he’d do next.