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[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

.

“ not a single one of those traits make a good business man, ” he counters, tone sharp as if to poke holes in this mask of hers. the one that makes her seem cordial and kind, like the kind of person anya would be naturally drawn to, but he can hear what truly lines beneath. those words are meant to be an insult. he knows it. serious – what does serious have to do with anything? that is an emotion, not a skill. dedication can sometimes be inefficient. it doesn’t always produce the desired result. he had been dedicated to his family, dedicated to restoring his family’s honour and reputation, but he has made no progress and his parents still sit in jail. and incorrigible? again, not a valuable trait.

and then, stella strikes again. imagine, imagine, imagine. it’s starting to make sense. stella must live a fanciful life, one that exists in her head where all one would need is a brush of hope for the juiciest apricots and oranges to appear in her hands. “ dull? you think people who have no use for hope live dull lives? perhaps you could stretch your imagination a little more to assess why that may not be the case. ” unfortunate, yes, there is no debate there. but dull?! he wishes his life was more dull. taking public transport is horrifying. he misses the dullness of a chauffeur driven car. “ what a … ” he clicks his fingers together as he thinks of the word, “ privileged way of thinking. ”

his brows twitch when stella refers to sabina as a business woman. a generous term for what she really is but he keeps that thought to himself. they are, after all, gangsters. “ yes. here and there. for obvious reasons. ” he states, and he hopes it’s more obvious why he doesn’t elaborate. the younger one looks innocent, maybe she hasn’t been clued in. “ we will be meeting soon. ” and he can’t risk stella running back and sabotaging everything so, though it pains him to do so, he asks: “ how are the apricots here? ”

Stella is surprised by how poor Nico is at taking a compliment. Just because those aren’t traits Stella actively admires doesn’t mean what she said was untrue. She could defend her statement with her father alone, guns or no guns he keeps his business afloat, but she won’t make that connection out loud. “Perhaps it is the way you’re looking at it that’s prohibiting you.” She thinks briefly about the person her mother used to be before one of the bloodiest street shoot-outs in her family’s history, before Frankie Mahoney lost her father and her lover. Seriousness is something that can be learned. Dedication is not the same as loyalty. Incorrigible, well, can be another word for consistent. 

“I did not mean dull as in boring. I meant dull as in colorless, without brightness.” Stella says quickly not from nerves, but a need to defend herself. No one has ever made Stella feel the way Nico does, like she has to prove herself to someone she doesn’t even particularly care for. She has never wanted someone she dislikes so much to like her, but she knows why. Before that feeling can ever settle, he snaps his fingers and calls her privileged and her face twists. She knows she can’t deny this, but her life has never felt like a privilege. She opts for not listing her traumas. “It’s very clear, Nico, how little you truly know about me.” 

Lucrece, on the other hand, has always been a good listener. She does so now, but not out of politeness, mostly out of discomfort. Her eyes bounce between them and she still can’t pin if she’s supposed to like Nico or not. To disrupt it, Lucrece unexpectedly reaches between them with her free hand for two more oranges and tosses them into her bag. “Pan d'arancio.” She says with unprovoked, with a kind smile. Stella also smiles when Nico talks about Sabina, even if it’s forced. 

“Of course.” Stella says. Obvious to who? Sabina ought to hope she’s not home when her two younger sisters return. The concept of Nico and Sabina meeting for a chat soon make’s Stella’s back tense. “Right, I’m sure Sabina and I will talk more about this at dinnertime.” A promise. It’s the mention of dinner that makes Lucrece pop with energy, reaching into her bag for her grocery list, and handing her copy to Stella as if she didn’t give Stella one earlier. “We ought to get going, Estella, this list won’t check off itself.” Nico asks about the apricots and finally Lucrece feels like this is something she can contribute. “Perfect.” She looks to him and smiles. “The best in this pocket of Italy.” And she means it wholeheartedly. Between the three of them, it’s probably the most honest thing said all afternoon. She reaches kindly to hand him the one she’s been holding like a peace offering. “If you buy anything.” She nods, vanished hand tugging lightly on the back of Stella’s dress. Stella’s reminded again that, even though they have done bad things, they are good people. “It was insightful to see you, Nico.” Stella nods kindly as well. “Alla prossima.” Stella, always this. “Buona giornata!” Lucrece, as an addendum.

[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

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i know you work hard. it sounds like a reassuranceand an acknowledgement all in one breath, swept up in the warmth of a voicebelonging to a man who’d seemingly understood her without really knowing her. there’sa tingling sensation at the bottom of her spine, and it slowly creeps all theway up until it reaches her eyes, and only then does she allow herself to feelhow overwhelming it all is. it trickles into her chest as she looks away, suddenlyfeeling as hot as the overcooked cheeseburgers she’d been serving all day. she wishesshe hadn’t tied her hair up. it would’ve been easier to look up from her feet ifshe could use her hair as a curtain to hide the fact that she’s trying hard notto cry. but she can’t shake off how comforting that’d been. it was like an armhad brought her in to be cushioned by their chest, relieving her of some weight, gently patting her back as if to say: it must not be easy, you’redoing great. when he grabs her arm, she immediately tenses, rolling her shoulder back to slip her arm from his hand. an instinct, caused by presumptuous customers. when he starts talking again, her features harden, failing to fathom what the other page could be since she’d made up his mind in her own. so what she hears next feels like a dream, but she wills herself to focus on every word he says. his intentions are honest, no empty promises were made, but she’s still staring at him as if she’s trying to figure him out. her thumb slips between her teeth, biting on her nail as she looks past him for a few seconds. she feels the prick of her tears but she’s desperate not to cry in front of him. taking a deep, shaky breath, she lets it out slowly before meeting his eyes again. “ do you want to get some coffee? ” she asks sheepishly. he’d driven all the way here and she’d assumed the worst in him. that wasn’t fair of her, she realises that now. maybe if they could go back to that night at the bar where they’d talked all night until close, it’d be clearer for both of them what it would mean to make things work. 

Orlando got into his first fight in second grade. It was quick and he didn’t defend himself out of lack of experience, out of not seeing it coming, but his father made sure to correct that the night he got home. Though the highs and lows of it fluctuated throughout his life, he’s been fighting ever since. Fighting has been one of the most consistent things in Orlando’s life, even more consistent than his favorite people, even more consistent than home. Fighting has taught Orlando a few things: 1. He can take a beating and still walk the mile back to avó’s. 2. There’s money in anything. 3. How to see shit coming. He thinks he’s good at anticipating people’s next moves, when someone’s going to strike him, can spot a fist and measure the force of it. But there’s something mildly unpredictable about Sasha. Especially right now when the way the rest of their lives will look is lingering over them like a crib mobile. He knows a lot about her already, but he doesn’t think he’s learned yet how to know what she needs. Doesn’t even realize that, in his own way, he already kind of has. So when she rolls her arm from his touch there’s a panic in his chest, trying to gauge her temperament, trying to predict what he needs to do next. He keeps his eyes on her even though he feels like he shouldn’t, as if she were naked and he should give her some privacy, but he can feel the adrenaline in his body. Sees her look away, sees her thumb meet her lips, and he’s about to speak out of default before she makes her offer. He feels the wind knocked out of him and exhales almost comically. “Fuck⁠—yeah. I mean, Fuck Yeah.” He rubs his jaw, recovering. She’s trying hard not to cry and he’s trying hard not to smile. “Let’s not go back to the...you know.” He wiggles his finger in the direction of her diner. He figures she doesn’t want to talk baby at her place of work. He looks around in a full circle, puts a hand over his eyes like a visor. Squints. But they both know he doesn’t know the area. He turns back to her. “We can go wherever you want. I ain’t in a rush.” He smiles softly, and he’s not trying to rush this. Also, he just doesn’t know if this is the best time to tell her he packed a bag.

[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

a subtle jab from estella – how refreshing, how new. it reaches him with the softness of a memory foam pillow, one that is designed to give you chronic neck pain. he is not like anya, who is like a bee to the sickly sweet syrup stella drenches herself in. he has always seen through it, and now she has proven him right. perhaps italy brings out the worst in her, too. “ i see. ” a failed business, a lost court case, an empty bank account – nico remains unflinching. there’s an imperceptible lift of the chin which forces his gaze to narrow as he peers down his nose. “ tell me, estella, in your eyes, what makes me quite the businessman? ” he will draw it out of her with pliers if he must, and dissolve her façade with acid until she reveals what she truly meant: if you were a good businessman, you’d be in america. if you were a good businessman, your parents wouldn’t be in jail. “ a futile emotion. ” a beat. “ one might say. ” what a ridiculous waste of time and energy. semester dates are set in place. rules are rules. no amount of hope would ever change that. estella must not have much to worry about in her life. the sound of the blonde’s voice mixed with his own throws him off guard. nico blinks a few times in complete bewilderment, and his confusion only grows after she makes that sound. frown deepens in a way his brows hang heavily over his eyes as they exchange knowing glances and puzzling words. gaze flits back and forth between them, wondering when their audacity would end. “ we barely spoke at all, ” he confirms candidly, not particularly enjoying what just happened. he was missing something. he could feel it. it was very rude of them not to explain but he has no choice but to let that feeling rot in his chest. “ lucrece, ” his voice is flat as she fiddles around with her apricot, clearly unimpressed. “ pleasure. ” he does, however, politely shake her hand. “ i wasn’t aware you had another sister, ” he says, looking at stella as he takes back his hand. sal had only briefly mentioned sabina. then, because he’s not rude like them, he leaves his question open for the both of them, “ sabina is doing well, i hope? ”

With Nico having over a foot of height on her, Stella tries not to tilt her chin to look up at him, but she kind of has to, so she’ll have to deal with it. “Fishing for compliments?” She gives him a soft, borderline friendly smile, as though more amused by him than bothered. “You are somewhat fitting to what I imagine it.” She adds kindly with a hint of contemplation; he would have to do more to bait her into saying what she might really think of him. 9/10 times Stella will bite her tongue around Nico god forbid anything bad get back to Anya. “Often serious. Rather dedicated. Incorrigible.” Like her father, she thinks, and nothing like her brother. When it came to tactics, she had always preferred Marcelo. He was more considerate, but maybe that’s why he’s dead. Perhaps Nico is a better business man than he thinks, maybe that’s why he acts the way he acts. Stella’s brows knit tightly at his absurd claim. Here’s that 1/10 time. “I can only imagine those who might say that are living dull, unfortunate lives.” Stella knows what it’s like to have no hope and it’s a darkness she has no interest reuniting with. 

The girls look back at him at his clarification, it almost makes Stella smirk, and Lucrece finds the distinction helpful. She’s more convinced when he says it like that. For a moment Lucrece thinks she can understand how the whole mess with the Casiraghis happened. Nico has a serious, believable face. She secretly wonders how much he is a liar. Lucrece lets him shake her hand and Stella keeps her eyes on him so that when he switches to her she’s already focused. His question doesn’t surprise Stella, she wouldn’t have expected him to know, but she wonders if he should. Lucrece assumes neither are looking at her, so she doesn’t hide the way the corners of her lips soften. She is not unfamiliar with not being known. At least, not in the matters of business. “I have three.” Stella says proudly. When he asks about Sabina, Stella is quiet a second too long: she doesn’t know how to answer. She never knows how Sabina is. She moves to say something generic, polite, as Nico obviously doesn’t truly care, but Lucrece saves her mental hiccup. “Sabina is wonderful.” She’s been limping. “Eating well.” Lucrece bakes her three breads a week. Most goes to the birds. Stella nods in agreement and finally adds, “Busy. She works very hard, being a business woman can be so taxing.” A beat. Skeptical: “Have you two been in touch?” 

[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

nico should’ve worn a hat. then maybe this could’ve been avoided. but he is already wearing a linen shirt that burns against his skin, even more so as stella slowly approaches him, so he never would’ve made it to this little town in a hat. “ estella. ” he acknowledges begrudgingly and spares a brief glance at the other one. why did she think she would be seeing him at all? did she know something he didn’t? had she spoken to sal? these are all questions he no longer has the luxury of voicing out loud. it seems the life of a poor working adult is more harrowing than one of a poor student. why had no one told him about this? “ well, i did graduate and it seems no misfortune is so cruel to force my hand in applying for an american visa. ” nico may not be able to control the way his eyes betray him as they remain sharp and guarded, naturally, for he didn’t think he’d be reunited with this manchesi, especially when he’s trying to be incognito, but he chooses his words with precision. “ no, she is not. she is in her third year so she is at university. have you forgotten? ” clearly they don’t know each other as well as she had made out. nico would’ve made a comment about how gallagher wouldn’t allow anya to leave campus for a visit to the market in italy, but it’s this kind of context that separates gallagher from an ordinary university and he doesn’t like to make assumptions. however, if his memory serves him correctly, estella is awful at introductions. “ nico, ” he sighs, almost rolling his eyes at estella as he turns his attention towards the other one, extending his hand towards her. “ nico casiraghi. ”

Stella’s not surprised by Nico’s formalities, but she finds herself straightening and tightening her jaw involuntarily. His joke, on the other hand, is actually rather funny. She smiles. “I had assumed you might take work through some networking you’d made while studying. I know you’re quite the business man.” She smiles again, but less entertained, even if it’s coated in Stella’s natural careful kindness. “But I can understand a much needed break from the states.” Stella’s head half-tilts, seeing Nico brought her back to Gallagher and she hadn’t taken into account the season. “I have not forgotten. Just a bit of hopefulness.” She tries not to sound defensive, for the most part. As they speak Lucrece spots them from her distance by the apricots. When she sees Stella talking to a skinny man with familiarity her immediate thought is, not another Gallagher boyfriend. But from the tension she can sense Stella hold in her knees, it doesn’t look like it ended well. 

When she comes over nosily and stands at her sister’s side she waits before anyone speaks to her, like she’s used to, and when Nico introduces himself she smiles dumbly. Then she looks from him to Stella, from Stella to him, as if she’s supposed to know something? “Nico Casiraghi.” Stella says in the same moment Nico does, and Lucrece’s eyes widen. “Ooooooh.” Nico could be walking down the street and she wouldn’t know a thing, but Casiraghi she could recognize. Lucrece isn’t like Sabina, and so she didn’t have a front row seat during the scandal that shook the Manchesi family a while back, but she knew the details, and she’d heard that name shot around their home for months. Stella nudges her lightly with an elbow. “He is a peer. He went to Gallagher.” Lucrece tilts her head at Stella despite herself, almost appalled, eyebrows pinching, seriously? Flirting with the enemy? Stella takes a second to understand why Lucrece bears that face, and the whole exchange lasts but a few sisterly moments before Stella stifles an offended laugh. She doesn’t even think Nico is someone capable of romance. “We spoke a few times on campus.” She clarifies the only way she knows how and Lucrece’s features calm, pinkened by the slight embarrassment, before she turns to him and reenacts what she’d learned as a little girl: politeness. Even though she’s really freaking confused. “Good afternoon, Nico. I’m Lucrece. One of Stella’s sisters.” She smiles warmly and, skeptically, reaches out her hand. But she’s holding an apricot. So she puts it away first and tries again. 

[gallagherchels]

Reintegrating into her life before Gallagher has been as bumpy as Stella had predicted before she returned home to Italy. Aside from having to stand her ground and sort things out with the marriage annulment, she’s felt the pressure to make up for lost time. It doesn’t bother her, one of her biggest motivations for returning home was how much she missed her sisters, and it’s not like she’s retained too many friends in Italy, which just means she’s been spending almost all of her free time with the three other little women in the Manchesi mansion. That means signing jokes to Graziella in the garden, and sitting in the same general space as Sabina while not talking, and accompanying Lucrece on her errands. “Do you need a copy of the list? I’ve written two copies of the list.” Lucrece says while reaching into her reusable grocery tote, and then touching her dress pockets searching for it.

“I think I can remember to gather a few oranges, Lucrece.” Stella says with a soft smile, already half-way wandering off and putting things in her bag that were absolutely not on the list.

The afternoon market in their town is a gathering hub, and today it’s crowded and still oddly peaceful. So much so that Stella loses track of Lucrece and when she spins to search the shoppers she notices someone she wasn’t expecting in the slightest. She would have been perfectly content not having made awkward eye contact with him, but now she can’t pretend she didn’t see him. “Nico?” Her head tilts and she approaches the short distance, hand dropping to her side and clutching a ripe orange. “I did not realize you were back in Italy. I wasn’t sure how soon I’d see you again.” What she means: I hoped I wouldn’t see you again. “Is Anya here, too?” Wishful thinking.

[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

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his comment makes her look up at him, but this time she’s forced to study him. how much did he not sleep? he’s too far for her to tell if his eyes are red. suddenly she’s hit with a pang of annoyance. it was dangerous for him to drive a long distance on little sleep. was he going to drive back? was he going to stay? maybe he’ll go to the bar again, or find another town nearby. it feels out of place to voice her concern for him, but she can’t stop it from showing in her eyes. “ black coffee’s nice. ” she’ll have to make one for him before he leaves. on the house. it’s not particularly nice, but from the way he said ‘black’, she assumes he recently switched to black coffee. “ do you do that a lot? ” reckless driving. “ drive without sleeping. ” she can sense the way his energy had wound up around him, which in turn has made her energy unwind around her, making the space between them a little more manageable. at least, for her. she can’t tell if it’s deliberate, and if that was how she’d ended up talking to him for hours. she hadn’t felt that comfortable around someone in a long time. the jacket over her shoulders isn’t quite enough to snap her out of her own thoughts, so when she looks up at him to mutter a small thanks, all she can think about is whether he’s a good guy or not. his kind eyes makes it hard for her to listen to her head – this is also how she ended up pregnant. “ thanks, ” she says quietly, and swiftly looking away from him. had she gotten this horribly wrong? what if he isn’t only being nice to soften the blow. doesn’t, she corrects him again. “ sure. ” she pulls his jacket over her a little to wrap it more tightly around her frame. a part of her wishes that he’d just get it over and done with, but she can’t tell whether that’ll leave her feeling more humiliated once he drives off. her mind has been spinning the second he’s called, catching every worst case scenario in it’s wind, and it’s tiring. she’s exhausted. “ it’s … okay, by the way, ” she’d started without meaning to, but she’s looking up at him with a small smile on her lips. brave face, brave face. “ so, um, whatever you came here to say, you can just say it. you don’t have to … pretend. i’m really fine, and i’m going to be fine. ”

Orlando can’t shake that he keeps saying the wrong thing. He’s never really cared all that much how someone takes him; there’s never really been a lot at stake. Or maybe he’s never cared enough about how it ends. But this, whatever this is, how it ends is all he can think about. So the urge to impress Sasha, to please her, hits different. And if being a little tired has her looking at him like that, who knows how he’ll make it through the end of the conversation. The next bit feels like a trick question. “No, nah.” He answers quick because he knows that’s the right answer, even if it’s not the truth. “Sometimes.” He shrugs after, because if he starts lying to her about the little things so soon think of how quickly he’ll turn into his father. “I mean you gotta do what you gotta do. You ain’t never did something on low sleep? I know you work hard.” They’ve both spent parts of their lives in the grind. Taking care of shit, or something, or someone. Sure, maybe he’s lived a little more reckless, but he likes to think she understands tired, understands restlessness. Her little ‘thank you’ after lights him up. A small victory. He gives her a proud, goofy smile, and feels a little more at ease. She looks pretty, he thinks, cradled by his coat. Makes the breeze against his back worth it. The time comes to put his thoughts into coherent sentences (never his strong suit, his third grade teacher agreed) and he takes a deep breath, knuckles tight in his jean pockets. 

But Sasha beats him to it. She starts and his brows knit. He catches her face and her small, defeated smile makes his arms tingle. Suddenly, it clicks. He halts, knuckles unclenching and leaving his pocket to reach softly for her arm so that she stops walking too. “I don’t think we on the same page.” Assuming, asses, however the phrase goes. “I really wanna...” His throat tenses. He remembers third grade again, the year his mother told him never to mention his father around her. Said once you say things out loud they become real. His jaw raises and he nods. “I want to make this work.” A beat. “Deadass.” His hand drops to find his own body. “And I...I’mma be honest, Sasha, I don’t really know what that looks like, or if it’s gunna. But if I’mma be a dad, I’mma actually be a dad. But I uh-” That low-sleep migraine hits and everything he’d recited on his drive goes out the window. “Had this shit thought out but I’m blanking, fuck.” Half a smile. His hand presses the bridge of his nose and he stumbles over his words before looking back at her. “Look. I ain’t perfect. But you already know, I’m shit at pretending. If I din’t wanna be here, I wouldn’t a come. All I can do is be real with you and love the baby. That’s what I got, if you want it.” 

[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

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he receives a glare, pointed and flustered, before she dips her head to cut it short, all too aware of her natural reaction to compliments of that kind. she’d overheard some guys at a diner talk about how different girls look when the lights of a club come on. she can’t help but feel like she’s under a big, hot, white spotlight. “ no i- ” saved by the clipping of her own breath, she takes a small, sharp inhale. denying it would only give him a reason to repeat himself, or at least feel obligated to, and they’ll end up in a horrible cycle she doesn’t have the energy for. it was nice to hear when they first met. the people in this town have looked at the same faces all their lives but he’s from a big city.everything he said felt real. but today he’s lying and she knows it. “ you don’t have to say that. ” she looks up at him again with softer eyes. she’ll demonstrate: “ you look tired. ” maybe if he hadn’t woken up early for the car wash, he could’ve slept in a little more. too much on the table. she looks away from him again, brushing back the baby hair out of her face. “ i understand. ” she doesn’t, actually. she doesn’t understand anything from why he drove all the way here to the way he sounds so sincere. it’s confusing her to the point where she feels a little agitated but it doesn’t show. “ no, you’ll be fine. ” there’s an imperceptible twitch of the brows at his leg day comment. she pauses, giving him a plain look, though it just looks like she’s waiting for him. well, she’s not going to follow him, is she? unless he knows the way? “ um- ” she looks over her shoulder towards the diner, wondering if she should run in and grab her own jacket. she doesn’t usually like taking jackets from guys but- “ a little, yeah. ” she’ll never ask, so she looks at him once then starts walking. she doubts this will be a long conversation anyway. “ how was the drive? ”

In his attempts to add warmth to their conversation they still feel distanced, even standing at an arm’s length. The conversation doesn’t feel as natural as it had in the bar, which makes sense since he’s sober and she’s pregnant, but he hopes it’s not something he can’t fix. He still isn’t entirely sure he’s made up his mind about things, but whichever way he plays it in his head still involves being around Sasha for a long time. So he wants to do it right. She says to him the opposite of what he’d have said, because Orlando knows how to take a compliment, but he plays it cool and shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I know I don’t.” Said it anyway, though. Thinks that means something. When she pays it forward Orlando’s brows raise, eyes wide with a faint smile, suddenly aware of how he might look right now. If he were anyone else, he might’ve stopped to fixate on his morning choices, on tossing together a weekender and arriving unannounced, on showing up outside her job with bags under his eyes. But right now he doesn’t really care how he looks because he is here. He made it. “Damn, Sasha.” He jokes, a slight playfulness returning, like he was treading water with her. “Thanks.” He adds, because he knows how to take a compliment, and finishes honestly with, “Didn’t really sleep.” Too much on the table. He nods and closes his car door, beeping his keys to lock it and scanning the scene once more. He doesn’t know how safe Floyd is, but where he’s from you gotta be careful where you leave your shit. “But no sweat, I drank some coffee. Black.” He adds coolly, as if it makes him sophisticated, but really there just hadn’t been any milk. They stand there waiting, him looking at her, her never quite looking at him. He wonders if maybe he should step first, feels a sense of obligation to lead her even if he doesn’t know where they’re going, even if he doesn’t know how it ends. At first, he had wanted his jacket. But when she gives a vague invitation of needing it Orlando feels a sting of excitement, like this is his chance, an opening. But she’s walking away before he can act on it. He’s not a quitter, though, so he falls into step and towers over her in height, reaching and draping his coat over her shoulders while she’s talking. He tucks his hands into his jeans. “Long.” Not long enough, hence the car wash detour. “But it don’t matter. I’m here now. I wanted to talk to you about...well, y’know.” Orlando shrugs, his confidence starting to falter. “And I didn’t wanna wait. Well--I couldn’t.” He’d go crazy sitting with his thoughts. Orlando’s never been the type to keep things bordered up. 

[gallagherchels]

hqgalpal·:

LOCATION && WITH WHOM :: CAFE IN BERLIN W / @gallagherchels·

“Okay, I need your opinion,” he began, arms resting on the café table, leaning forward just a bit to really show how serious and important this was. “Should I get a dog, yes or no?” 

“My op-n-on?” Wilder mumbles, Jerome catching him in the middle of a huge bite of his pastry. He thins his lips and tries to lick the excess sugar off, full cheeks chewing, trying not to eavesdrop on the German couple behind them. It’s been nice having Jerome around, like his little piece of Gallagher in his own country. His eyes widen curiously and he leans in when Jerome leans in, choking as he swallows when the other man asks a question he wasn’t expecting. "You scared me!" He didn't expect Jerome to ask something with only one right answer. “Dude, get a dog and you’ll never get rid of me.” He jokes, eyes glistening at the thought of it. Doesn’t bother leaning back.

[gallagherchels]

wcnderlxnd·:

There’s a boyish grin curving up Levi’s lips as the first thing Trinity says is none other than a complaint. At least that hasn’t changed about her, but then again, with a personality like that, change is difficult. He leans down to press a kiss to her cheek. “It’s good to see you, Ibarra. How much have you missed me?” His question reads Tell me you missed me and I’ll tell you I missed you, too. “I think you’re getting old,” he teases, clicking his tongue and narrowing his eyes at her as if he’s focusing on her face to pinpoint signs of growing old. He has no idea when he last saw her, to be honest. With how busy both their lives were, meeting was becoming less often. However, none of that mattered, because here they were already poking at each other’s egos with grins so wide. He does take the chance to let his eyes travel down her frame to see the dress. “Now that’s a nice dress. All for me?” He chuckles lightly. “Come on, let’s go in.”

Trinity enjoys time with Levi because he always takes her as she is. She does her worst and he smiles, just like that. Trinity tilts her cheek up when he comes over, knowing what his lean is for and meeting him half way expectantly. “Hit me with some new information, babe, it’s always good to see me.” This must be a universal feeling for people. “Not as much as you missed me, I’m sure.” This is her inadvertent way of saying I missed you as much as I’d like to think you missed me. “Stop that.” She’s half between a frown and a laugh, pouting and flicking his shoulder for trying to spot creases in her concealer. “I might not be great at math but if I’m old you must be real old, since you got a few years on me.” Her hand finds his chin tenderly, turning his face side to side to inspect him. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.” She adds, smile peeking, “And stacked. The girls you’re seeing must eat you up.” Aye, money talks. Trinity rolls her eyes as he trails her, but she’s obviously loving it, lips pursed to prove it, even flips her hair off her shoulder. She puts her hand out for him to walk her in, and once inside she gets a rare wave of nervousness. These are the people that matter, the people who are doing the shit she wants to be doing. She’s gotta impress them. That’s why when she says what she says next, she leans a little closer so she’s quiet, “If you like how the dress looks on me, you’d kill to see what’s under it.” She plays. 

[gallagherchels]

Trinity's at a point in her career where she doesn’t do any of the dirty work. As in, she hasn’t planned her own vacation in years, she doesn’t book her own flights, she doesn’t schedule her conferences or her appearances, and when her manager pitches a partnership with a boxing apparel brand that makes her ass look good, all she has to do is say yes or no. So, of course she says yes, even if she hasn’t sparred since her Gallagher days. Her branding department said it would be a good idea to work with local studios around the states, get some publicity in and donate free equipment and products before launching her own line of fitness gear as her next business move. She’s already talked to Martina about designs, so as far as she’s concerned, this is just a small step in the process. She’ll visit a studio in her hometown in Florida, a studio in Cali, a studio here and there and firstly, a studio close to her alma mater, even if that was some eight years and change ago. Concepts like aging make Trinity real glad she can’t count. 

Trinity inhales in a deep, dramatic way like she’s on a reunion set, but chokes at the smell of sweat and feet and nearly gags. Did DC always smell this bad? Even her expensive perfume is gasping for air. “Paul, you smell that?” Her trusted assistant scurries beside her, clutching his clipboard expectantly. “It smells like you gonna have to bring the car around.” Trinity’s brow perks, like, what the hell did you sign me up for? When Paul explains that they’ve already signed a contract, and that there’s a lot to be done, Trinity sighs and bumps her hip against his. “Loosen up, Paulie, acting like you need to put some laxatives in your coffee...” She cackles, that loud laugh that nearly made her famous, and her odd friend smiles in knowing her, before heading out to bring in some of her things. She fully steps into the studio, her out-of-place stilettos clicking against the floor as she takes it in skeptically, her petite frame circling, and raising her hands at potential changes. She talks to herself — “It’s a lil dingy but nothing we can’t put some lighting on. Maybe we can paint the walls? Or is that the look we’re going for...we could also...eh..” She trails off, one hand pressed to her hip as her marketing brain ignites, so that the back of her blazer’s pushed up. “Ooo, just needs my magic touch.” @dailygodmod​

[gallagherchels]

hqgalpal·:

LOCATION && WITH WHOM : : ANYWHERE W / @gallagherchels·

“So how are you liking the new headmaster? They better than Sutton or no?” 

Trinity’s attention is out the car window, half appreciating getting to ride passenger for once, and half wondering if this is as fast as he’s willing to drive. Ain’t like they’re in a school zone anymore. “Let’s just say, the newbie is the reason anal gets a bad rep. Whole staffs been up everyone’s ass ‘cause of the shit y’all pulled last year.” She’s not dropping any hints or anything, but Levi did graduate so she’s been in need of a white boy replacement. 

[gallagherchels]

gensrps·:

          when  the  head  of  r-tech  is  in  town,  it  never  goes  without  commotion  in  the  business.  not  that  they  hire  independent  workers  like  himself,  keeping  the  personnel  tight - knit  for  obvious  reason,  although  the  backchecking  system  would  go  pretty  quickly  with  them.  still,  when  people  talk,  viktor  does  what  he  does  best  :  listen.  the  time  and  place  of  the  conference  is  the  easiest  part,  learning  the  time  of  arrival  to  catch  her  before  she  has  to  fly  off,  surprisingly  easier.  he  has  gallagher  to  thank,  stockholm  too,  he  supposes.  or  her  entourage  has  to  learn  to  keep  quiet  about  those  details,  but  he’s  not  one  to  badmouth  anyone.  

          it’s  hard  to  keep  the  thoughts  about  lack  of professionalism  quiet  when  all  it  took  was  saying  he’s  a  friend  to  slip  right  past  her  security.  maybe  standing  a  solid  handful  of  inches  taller  than  the  biggest  guy  on  her  staff  helped  him  out.  he’d  never  pick  a  fight,  but  no  one  had  been  interested  in  finding  it  out  for  themselves.  or  the  unbudgeable  frown  his  brows  carry  also  had  something  to  do  with  that.  it  does  ease  up  when  he  finally  reaches  the  familiar  figure  he  came  to  see.  viktor  can  count  on  one  hand,  the  people  he  wished  to  keep  contact  with  after  his  solo  year  at  gallagher.  rei’s  part  of  it.    ❛   you’ve  got  a  questionable  team.   ❜    he  makes  sure  to  knock  on  the  opened  door,  knows  better  than  sneaking  up  on  her.  the  dry  humor  they  share  is  tinted  with  slight  bitter - sweetness,  partially  to  blame  for  that  state  her  staff  is  in.          /     @gallagherchels·

Rei knew the risks when she took on the top position in her family’s company. She was raised around risk, and she had idolized her father long enough to know what his life was really like, so when rising to CEO of R-Tech was finally under her belt she was already prepared for what was in store. International conferences, constant flying back and forth, scavenging for quality time with her girlfriend, media coverage and demanding clients, scarcely seeing the select integer of people she considered close friends, and of course--always being on guard. “You didn’t have to knock.” She says dryly without budging, without bothering to look behind her to acknowledge a physical presence. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate it, and it perhaps saved Viktor a potential pocket knife to the shoulder blade, but she could hear someone approaching that didn’t match the weight and stride of her team. “You’re heavy on your heels.” She notes, something she had told him once during a sparing match in their younger days. There’s a smirk in her voice he can’t see by the time she turns around. 

A tenet of their friendship has been matching each other’s dry wit, keeping a straight face, but it’s been so long since she’d last seen him in person that Rei can’t help the slight curve of her lips to catch him at the doorway. She cocks an eyebrow, “Are you stalking me, now? I can’t imagine it was that easy to find me.” Likely not hard for people like them, she can admit Viktor is good at what he does, but he’d had to have put in work to get here regardless. “I’ve got a team that trusts me.” She snaps back swiftly. Her trust has never been something she gives lightly, and that’s why Regine had been deliberate when choosing who would be a part of her security. That’s why she had offered him the job. “The last thing I would want is a bunch of peers babying me, watching my every move, and assuming I can’t handle my own.” Plus her staff also knows who is allowed to pass through without supervision, but she won’t give him that much satisfaction to know he apparently made the cut. 

[gallagherchels]

miyamotos·:

𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙷𝙸𝚅𝙴𝙳  :  //  ren_r

“  i  think  that’s  just  something  you’re  gonna  have  to  get  used  to  ,  ”  satomi  cheekily  points  out  .  they  can’t  fault  their  girlfriend  for  being  paranoid  .  given  their  field  of  work  ?  it’s  normal  to  be  paranoid  .  and  highly  vigilant  .  trusting  rei  was  daunting  at  first  .  they  weren’t  in  the  business  of  trusting  a  lot  of  people  .  and  they’ll  admit  that  there  was  a  level  of  uneasiness  that  eventually  grew  to  affection  for  the  other  woman  .  “  i  wish  i  got  it  on  video  for  you  when  i  pointed  out  how  hypocritical  they  were  .  ”  and  hopefully  tommy  will  never  ask  about  what  they  did  to  secure  him  an  offer  to  MI6  .  but  that’s  a  problem  for  future  satomi  to  deal  with  .  “  honestly  not  sure  ,  ”  they  shrug  at  her  question  .  “  did  we  wanna  be  tourists  for  the  day  or  go  on  a  bar  crawl  ?  ”  either  option  sounds  good  in  their  opinion  .  “  i  have  considered  that  question  but  we  both  know  that  gallagher  is  not  ready  for  you  .  ”

“I know.” Rei says flatly, because they’ve talked about this enough times before, and it’s something they’ve both accepted. The funny thing is, Rei never cared much about how dangerous her future would be because she never intended to have the kinds of bonds she’s made with people at Gallagher. She didn’t plan to have people she didn’t want to lose and now she has so many it’s a hard pill to swallow. Still, she wouldn’t want anyone telling her what to do with her life, or that her job was too dangerous, so she gives Satomi the same respect back. “As long as you’re being smart.” Rei doesn’t doubt Satomi is, but she knows her girlfriend to be reckless in the name of the people they care about, but being calculative is just as crucial. “No one likes to hear the truth.” She laughs, running her wet soapy finger down Satomi’s resting hand against the bathtub. “Celebratory wine?” She quickly reaches for the already opened bottle behind her, pouring a glass for them to share. “To Thomas Black owing you big time.” Regine wouldn’t mind spending the day in bed with Satomi, but as dreamy as that sounds she knows a few hours in and they’ll both be restless. “There’s an underground antique tool market past downtown. I’ll sneak you in.” She smirks, sneaking Satomi in is a joke, and the mention of Gallagher reminds Rei again of what she’d been wanting to talk to Satomi about. She chooses to push it off a little longer, the conversation feeling too serious. Maybe later that night.

[gallagherchels]

wcnderlxnd·:

The moment he mailed the letter, he found himself counting down the days before he received Stella’s reply. He’s never been a patient person and a lot of times, he contemplated calling her, but there was something entertaining, more personal about the letters. He’d know, the effort put into a letter couldn’t be compared to a simple phone call. But he missed her voice, he missed the sound of her laugh, and these were valuable things he couldn’t have in a letter. 

He still kept it a secret from Raul, maybe he wasn’t ready for the plethora of questions. As far as his brother knew, it had all ended with their summer trip and they weren’t in contact anymore. And maybe he’s right, it did end, but the latter is, of course, untrue.

“Earth to Christian,” Raul calls out, throwing a paper ball at his brother.

“Hm? Mature of you.” Christian chuckles. 

“What’s distracting you?” Raul’s brows furrow, eyes studying his younger brother’s features. He knows something’s up, but whether Christian will say it is another story.

“Nothin’, hey wanna head out later?” 

Raul knows he’s trying to change the subject, but he lets him - for now.

The letter comes the next day, thankfully when Raul’s at work, which again gives the younger Torres all the time he needs to properly read the letter - once, twice, thrice… and then take his time writing it.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Raul with everything going on in his head right now, because he does, but talking to Stella was always different. He always felt she understood him on a different level, who saw things from every single angle. Sharing his days and hearing how she’s doing was giving them something he had thought he lost when they parted ways, something he missed way more than words could express. And now that he has it again, he doesn’t want to lose it.

Hey,

Thank you for the pen, I’m writing using it right now. Does my hand writing look better to you?

Maybe letters are formal, but it doesn’t mean it has to be that way, does it? I don’t think I can handle being so formal in a letter. That’s asking way too much from me. I’ll admit it’s good to know you haven’t forgotten about me, very relieving, especially after the summer we had. Or else I would be thinking you didn’t have as good and as memorable of a time as I did. 

Busy is good, right? Surprising it’s coming from me, I know, but after months of this… limbo, I would rather be busy and distract myself from all of it. Yeah, I’ve been feeling that way for a while now, though I do know what - answers. But it’s maybe also more than that. I hate to know I’ve been making enemies, Stella. You’ll need to put in a few good words. You’re pretty good at convincing. I would know.

It almost seems like you’re letting me down easy… Don’t worry, I know you’re busy with a lot. And I need to figure my shit out. It’s what this summer was all about, right? One final escape from everything before we had to face it all. I know we have a lot to figure out and get done, but sometimes, I wish we’d go back to that summer. I miss feeling this light and free. 

I’m looking into working in something in the automotive industry - that way I’m still surrounded by cars, even if I’m not going to be actively race anymore. Raul suggested I professionally race, but something about it being so bound by rules and regulations has me hesitant. I’ve never been one for rules - you know me, but maybe that’s something I need to work on, as part of tackling the world head on, as you put it.

I’m not surprised one of your sisters isn’t a fan of mine, but hey, that only means I’ll have to prove it to her otherwise? I’m not as bad as she thinks I am. Seems like she needs her sister to help her break out of her shell too. What I recall, the Stella I first met at Gallagher wasn’t exactly spontaneous either… and then she surprised me day after day. Brave Stella, remember? Maybe we are kind of crazy, but the summer is not one I’ll ever forget and wouldn’t trade for the world.

You should see my face right now reading your questions. Good to know you’re still the dreamy girl. The life I imagined is free, fast… lowkey. But I can’t tell you what it smells like because I have absolutely no idea what that even means. Are we going to have another deep conversation here?

Christian T.

Perhaps Lucrece had set herself up for failure. In trying to forget the few letters exchanged between her and her sister’s past lover, she had left herself with consistent reminders all over her day-to-day. She was reminded of Christian on the rare occasions Stella woke up before her and in the small panic as she raced to gather the mail, and she was reminded of him whenever Gabriele smiled unknowingly as he watched her rake through the day’s letters, and she was reminded of him most intimately at night when she journaled — reaching for her favorite pen that was not there. 

Lucrece is spending the afternoon with the two coldest women in her house: her eldest sister, and her mother. They mimic each other, Lucrece notices this in her silence as she watches them move around the big house they all live in. The way they walk, the power in their stance, the way they communicate in gestures; they feel so distant from her. Francesca and Sabina Manchesi are both strong, fierce, fiery women whose fingers know every curve of a pistol. Lucrece wonders what it might be like to be violent or ferocious, but not in the same way that Stella desired it. Lucrece wonders how someone could be so hard edged and not crave comfort, not crave someone’s warm hand on their back, or small kisses on their forehead. Sure, being independent and unconstrained sounds freeing, but all Lucrece has ever wanted was to be cared for. Sabina walks past and Lucrece frowns; she cannot remember the last time she hugged her sister. 

“Sei ferito.” She notes. You’re hurt. 

“You’re nosy.” Sabina responds flatly, continuing toward the front door.

“I am perceptive. Either you’re hurt, or your pants are far too tight.” 

The look Sabina shoots her would’ve made Lucrece feel small, had she not grown up with her sister. “Boo, don’t be a bully. I am only playing, let me see.”

“No.” Sabina insists, but Lucrece is already perched against the couch, eyeing Sabina in the entry way. “You’re not a doctor, Lucrece. I got a little scuffed up a few nights back on the job, but I’m a big girl. I don’t need you to--would you just---cut it out!” Sabina protests, watching Lucrece skip to her with excited palms, and flinching when her younger sister presses against her bruised hip. 

“I have something for that.” 

“Yeah, it’s called walking it off.”

“You should rest. I can make you tea?” 

“You’re relentless.” Pushing past Lucrece, Sabina swings open the door to see Gabriele with the day’s mail which is enough to apparently get Lucrece out of her hair. Lucrece pushes past her in order to get to Gabriele first.

“I’ll get the mail, you sit, you rest.” She insists, this time more selfishly, flipping through the mail until she reaches the letter she’d been meaning to intercept. She’s too playfully riled up to differentiate the unplaced delight, and her sweet smile when she looks up at Gabriele and thanks him. “I’ll leave you be now, Your Wretchedness.” She taunts Sabina, who scoffs and rolls her eyes before Lucrece is off to her room. 

This will be the last of them. That’s what she says when she opens it up. There’s no way he��ll have said something worth replying to. But perhaps Lucrece set herself up for failure; her pen’s become a double edged sword. She suppresses the smile at even his first lines, but there’s a brief laugh at the sight of his handwriting. He’s said so many good things about his plans, but he’s also mentioned Stella letting him down easy...it would be wrong if she didn’t reply. But Lucrece has already lost a little bit of grip on who the “she” in question is, her own voice slithering through. 

Christian,

You are so welcome for me letting you borrow my pen. Perhaps you are holding it wrong.

I have given some thought to what you said about letters not having to be formal. No, I suppose they don’t have to be that way. I wouldn’t want to tire you out with formalities. I much rather get you at your rawest, most informal form. You know, like, tell me your worst joke. I’ll go first: What do you get from a pampered cow? 

Busy can be good. Sometimes I’ll make a to-do list for the day and it will be so long, but I always get a little distracted by thinking about things, no matter how busy I am. Do you have that problem? Sometimes I feel like it’s just me, that I think too much, but never for long enough to come to any conclusions. It’s lead to a few burnt pies. 

Christian, what kind of answers are you looking for? Maybe Gabriele can help you, he knows a lot of people given his profession you know... Right, I can be very convincing, of course. However, I trust his judgment. Maybe you will just have to impress him. 

Nothing about our parting was easy. It’s still been very hard for me to assimilate back into my old life, and my future life, given everything. Maybe I’m letting myself down easy, have you considered that? My favorite thing about summer is that it always comes back around, and the sun always feels like a warm hug from an old friend. 

Oh, from what I know about you, you would love that! I’m glad you’re not giving up on working with cars. I know how passionate you are about them. You know, rules and regulations aren’t the absolute worst thing in the world. Tell me, what would your worst case scenario look like? I’m trying to imagine you now...racing at full speed...nice cars...winning without having to worry about safety. Your brother must love you a lot since he’s trying to meet you halfway. I know a lot about loving a sibling so much that you would do anything to make sure they’re okay.

She doesn’t think you’re that bad. She just...I don’t think she trusts you. I don’t think she believes you have my best interest at heart. I’m not saying I believe that, you know how I feel about you, but can you blame her? What do you think I’d have to tell her to change her mind? Hm...I like crazy. I can be crazy. 

I’m trying to imagine it. I’ve been thinking a lot about this, about the life I imagined. I think free...fast...lowkey sounds nice, you know, independent sounds nice, but it also sounds a bit lonely. Doesn’t everyone just want to be taken care of? I think that’s what I want. To take care of people, and to be taken care of in return. Also, mine smells like pistachio panna cotta...and morning coffee. Try using your imagination. There is always space for deep conversation.

Estella Manchesi

[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

.

are, she corrects him mentally, you are at work. just something she’s noticed in the past, what, twelve-ish hours. she really thought she’d have more time to feel okay about doing this alone before he called back. maybe he just needed a night’s sleep before having this conversation. he sounds a lot better than he did yesterday. is he … smiling? it makes her entire body tense, like she’s the butt of some joke. what is there to smile about? there’s nothing pleasant about this. who is he smiling to? did he bring a friend? “ okay, ” she says evenly, “ bye. ” she chooses not to look at the mirror before walking out of the staff room but when the time comes for her to finish her shift, she spends a few extra minutes retying her hair and getting rid of the flaky mascara from under her eyes. brave face, she tells herself, taking deep breaths to calm herself down before stepping out into the parking lot. the look on his face is unexpected. she doesn’t know how to feel about it. “ hey. ” she slowly walks towards him, arms lightly wrapping around her body, every step more cautious than the one before. she looks down at his car, then back up at him. “ it looks clean. ” a pause. “ you didn’t have to come all the way here. i would’ve understood. ” eventually. a soft exhale as she fleetingly glances at her feet before eyes flicker back up to meet his. “ there’s a small park further down the road. we could go there. ” unless he’d rather be close to his car. “ or we can go round here. ” by the dumpsters. “ i don’t mind. ” 

Orlando might be a bit of an idiot but he can tell she’s standoffish when she comes over, and he can’t blame her but it still makes him a little tight. It sobers him, the way she crosses her arms and avoids eye contact, and it settles on him that whatever high he was riding since his talk with Tigs is about to hit a dead end. He clears his throat, like he should be more serious. Serious, like fathers are. “Thanks.” He takes the chance to breathe out, feels like she didn’t really appreciate how clean his car was, and he probably coulda pocketed the twenty he spent on it. “You look nice.” He adds, and she does. Not as nice as the last time he saw her; she lookin’ a little tired and her uniform has a grease stain, but Sasha’s just one of those girls that always looks pretty just because. His eyebrows knit when she says she would’ve understood, but he figures she means she would’ve understood if he’d just called her with his proposed plan, not because she thinks he’s gonna tell her no. I mean, if he was gonna tell her he didn’t want to be involved, would he have really driven all this way? She can’t possibly think that. “Nah, of course I came. It didn’t feel legit, just calling you. Too much on the table.” Kinda thought she’d be a little more excited to see him, but maybe she was hoping he’d pull out, maybe she wishes it wasn’t him. His eyes look down the road at the imagined park, and then he tilts to eye the dumpsters, making a grossed out face like hell nah. He looks at his car skeptically before looking back at Sasha. “I could leave my car here right? I ain’t uh...gonna get a ticket?” Wouldn’t mind if he hadn’t spent money on the underappreciated car wash. “I could go for a walk in the park, it’s leg day.” He shrugs. “I’ll follow you.” He finally closes the car door, moving to swiftly pull his jacket on before stopping midway and eyeing her in her diner uniform. “You cold?” It’s not too cold out but he’s not gonna be an asshole.  

[gallagherchels]

dailygodmod·:

.

he’s calling. why is he calling? is he crazy? he said he needed some time. it’s barely been a day. he said he needed some time, and for some reason she believed him. he mustn’t have had that much to figure out. she gave him an easy out, but was it that easy? couldn’t he have at least pretended to think about it? oh. he’s bad at pretending. well, he was good enough to make her believe that he was genuine, that their strange moment of honesty wasn’t an illusion of desperation. she watches the phone ring from the counter as she unties her apron, visibly stressed. one of the boys from school sat on a table nearby points it out to the whole diner. she wonders if she should go sit by them when she answers so orlando doesn’t feel bad about taking the out. no, she’d want him to feel stupid for calling back in the first place. but she doesn’t. not really. though she wishes she did. finally, she picks up the phone, pressing her back against the staff door to shut it. “ i know, ” she says, voice quiet and a little frosty. if only she could freeze her nerves. “ what? ” it comes out as a sharp whisper. how does he even know where she lives? her parents are home. an audible sigh. “ i’m at work. do you mind coming here? it’s called rodney’s diner. i should be done by the time you arrive. ” 

The way she answers the phone doesn’t do much to make him go back on his intentions, running on pure adrenaline alone, but also because Orlando’s not entirely picking up that she’s busy or in a situation where she can’t speak even when he can hear a door closing. He’s here to talk to her about their...entanglement, not put two and two together. But hearing her voice doesn’t exactly calm any of his nerves either, only riles him up a little more when she whispers back sharply. “Said I’m outsi-Oooh.” He really thought she just didn’t hear him, “Well, fuck.” He said out loud, realizing he’d caught her at a bad time but knowing he was either going to follow through with this now or never. “You at work.” He repeats her, like he’s clarifying mostly for himself, and he’d have half a mind to think she was conning him if she hadn’t immediately invited him there. There’s a smile in his voice when he replies, unable to hide the rush of her invitation, “Yeah, I could do that. I’ll pick you up.” And take her where, he has no clue, but he’s already in his car on the way. And when he gets there he doesn’t know if he should call her back, and he definitely ain’t trying to go inside the joint, so he waits to see her in his side mirror parked out front. He opens his door and pops out, leaning on the car to look at her, not knowing what to do now that’s he’s got her in his line of view. “Hey..." He pauses, looking down at his car, “Just got her washed this morning.” He was stalling, that’s why. “But we could uh...” Talk by the dumpsters? “Whatever you wanna do, Sasha. I just wanted to talk to you.” 

[gallagherchels]

Orlando didn’t waste a lot of time after his talk with Tigs out of fear his adrenaline might wear off and he’d talk himself out of his ridiculous plan. When he got back to the flat they shared he barely slept, and the morning after he packed a bag without a return date (and not nearly enough clothes to last how long he’d be gone), tossed it into his rinky-dink car, and got on the road to Floyd. But of course, not without his cheap coffee and the last bit of the pumpkin spice creamer in the fridge. He didn’t replace the milk before he left. Halfway to Sasha’s place, or where he vaguely remembered it from having dropped her off the only time they’d met in person, he almost turned back around at the scratched up Welcome to Floyd billboard on the highway. “Hey.” The phone’s still ringing, he’s just practicing how he’s gonna answer if she picks up. “Sasha. Hey...Sasha. Yo, Sasha. Nah.” Thank god he’s in the car alone. “S-” When she answers he snaps up, “Uh, what’s up? It’s Orlando.” In case she hasn’t saved his number yet, he wouldn’t blame her, but he would feel some type of way. “You home? I’m parked outside your spot, can we talk?” He’s actually parked three houses down across the street, but he tried.