silkfms

[silkfms]

she arched a perfectly sculpted brow, eyes glinting with that sharp mix of amusement and challenge. “chiaroscuro, darling, is the art of playing with light and shadow — mostly so pretentious photographers like your mystery guy can pretend they understand depth beyond their dating app bios.” she flicked the brush with casual precision, spreading a thin line of the mask across her nose. “and yes, the emotional unavailability section is exactly that — earthy tones because nothing says don’t get too close like a ficus and a speaker system that blasts only moody indie playlists. as for the other zones,” she continued, tilting her head like this was obvious, “there’s the minimalist existential crisis corner, where the walls are white and the furniture is too expensive to touch. then the chaotic glam penthouse zone — think sequins, glass, and just enough mess to keep you guessing.” she gave him a sidelong glance, smirk softening just enough to be almost sincere. “and before you ask, no, the zones don’t each have their own rooms. i’m not running a gallery here. it’s more… curated chaos.” finally, she leaned forward, voice dropping into that mock-serious tone. “as for the pores of the people thing? i wouldn't fret too much about it. now spill — what’s your latest disaster? make it good. i’m feeling generous.”

“no  one  thrives  alone,  serin,  no  matter  how  much  you  like  to  tell  yourself  that  you  do,”  humans  weren't  solitary  creatures,  that  much  julian  knew.  and  though  serin  wouldn't  admit  it,  he  knows  that  his  company  here  was  more  than  appreciated.  who  wouldn't  appreciate  his  company,  after  all  ?  “each  aesthetic  zone,”  he  repeats,  laughter  breathed  through  his  words.  it's  something  that  would  only  come  from  her  mouth,  and  somehow  exactly  what  he  figured  she  would  say.  “how  exactly  is  a  space  emotionally  unavailable  ?  is  it  because  you're  using  earth  tones  ?  also,  if  that's  one  zone,  where  are  the  other  two  ?  does  each  room  have  their  own  aesthetic  zones  or  are  the  zones  limited  to  rooms  ?”  all  of  his  questions  ramble  together,  nearly  a  single  stream  of  thought.  he's  not  sure  how  her  mind  works,  but  it's  fascinating  to  him  and  he  can't  help  but  wonder.  he  wants  to  pay  attention  to  her  woes,  and  share  the  emotional  load,  he  really  does,  but  he's  stuck  on  chiaroscuro  and  can't  stop  his  brows  from  furrowing.  “chia  -  whatta  ?”  head  tilted,  “what  the  hell  is  that  ?  and  just  cause  you  called  me  ‘  pores  of  the  people, ’  whatever  that  means,  you  get  nothing  until  you  tell  me  what  chia  -  whatever  is.”

[silkfms]

her lips quirked into a half-smile as she studied agata’s disheveled appearance. “well, that’s one way to make an entrance,” she remarked dryly, her gaze flicking over the artistic makeup and the evident discomfort it caused. “looks like you’re auditioning for cats, the musical.” she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a deliberate calm. “so, what brings you here? some kind of undercover operation?” her tone was laced with amusement, but her eyes remained sharp, assessing. “either way,” lenny continued, her voice softening slightly, “you’ve got my attention. but if you’re looking for help, you’ll need to be more honest than that.” she gestured to the seat across from her. “sit. let’s see if your story holds up.”

    “   whichever   story   i   tell   you   will   sound   ridiculous   ,   true   or   not   ,   so   you'll   believe   it   if   you   want   to   .   it   doesn't   matter   .   point   is   :   i'm   not   a   furry   .   i   did   lose   a   bet   and   had   to   let   them   do   this   to   me   for   a   segment   about   artistic   makeup   .   ”   and   worst   of   all   ,   she   had   no   idea   how   to   take   it   off   .   her   makeup   had   always   been   the   simplest   ,   light   coverage   everything   .   one   drop   of   cleansing   oil   could   solve   her   problem   on   a   regular   day   but   this   ?   she   wouldn't   know   where   to   begin   .   “   should   i   stay   in   character   and   order   something   with   fish   ?   ”

[silkfms]

her smile didn’t waver — sharp, polished, a blade disguised as silk. she leaned in just a fraction, voice low and smooth, dripping with sweet venom. “oh, gianna, you wound me. you make it sound like i’m terrified of a little company.” her eyes flicked to the wine glass she still held, then back to gianna, amused. “besides, if i wanted to avoid you, you wouldn’t have made it this close.” she took a slow sip, savoring the wine like it was a secret. “but you’re right about one thing,” she added, voice silk over steel. “i do hate to see you here. it throws off the ambiance.” her gaze sharpened, calculating, before she dropped the smile for just a moment, eyes glinting with challenge. “and no, neither of us owns this place. yet. but between the two of us? i’d say i’m the one who knows how to make it bleed profit.” she tipped her glass slightly toward gianna. “here’s to surviving the night without losing our minds — or our edges.”

gianna    has    been    rather    lucky    to    secure    the    final    spot    at    the    wine    bar    tonight  ,    one    corner    of    her    mouth    tugged    into    a    menacing    smirk    as    soon    as    she     sees     serin    on    the    seat    next    to    her  .    it    feels    like    a    cruel    joke    indeed  ,    knowing    how    often    the    two    clash    despite    looking    like    they    belong    to    sit    together  .    glancing    over    at    the    girl     she    takes    a    sip    of    her    wine    once    it’s    served  ,    taking    her    time    to    savor    the    taste    before    serin’s    remark    makes    her    laugh  .     “    helps    if    you’re    blessed    with    collarbones    like    mine  ,    ”     she    retorts  ,    red    lips    spreading    into    a    smile  ,    one    that    doesn’t    quite    reach    her    eyes  .     “    and    serin  ?    there’s    no    need    to    play    nice     with    me  .    i    could    tell    you    hate    to    see    me    here  ,    it’s    all    over    that    fake    smile    of    yours  .    ”     with    that    being    said    she    clinks    her    glass    against    serin’s  ,    mocking    her    action    earlier  ,    then    takes    another    sip  .     “    likewise  ,    i    don’t    wanna    sit    here    next    to    you    either    but    fuck    it   ,    right  ?    it’s    not    like    one    of    us    owns    this    fucking    place  .    ”

[silkfms]

she took the thermos with a quiet nod, fingers curling around the warmth like she might actually let herself have it this time — not just the tea, but the moment. the peace. adisila’s words settled in her chest like something gentler than she was used to carrying, and for once, she didn’t swat it away. she took a slow sip, then passed the thermos back, eyes tracking the horizon where sky met sea in a clash of colors that didn’t apologize for their mess. “you ever notice how fire makes everything look alive?” she asked, voice low. “even the stuff it’s burning to ash.” her fingers drummed against her knee, restless in the way people got when they weren’t used to being still. “truth is… i used to think surviving meant outpacing it. being sharper. louder. setting the fire before someone else could strike the match.” she tilted her head toward adisila, the edges of her mouth tugging into something like a smile — crooked, but real. “but you? you make it feel like maybe you can just sit in the middle of it sometimes. not flinch. just… breathe.” the air shifted again, carrying with it the scent of salt and something almost like freedom. she let herself lean into the shoulder beside her, not much, but enough. “next time i start running, you got permission to trip me. just give me a heads up first so i don’t land face first.” her grin widened, teasing now, but her gaze flicked back to the sun-slashed waves, something quiet lingering in it. “’cause i think maybe… maybe i’m finally tired of building my whole damn life out of escape routes.”

she  didn’t  speak  right  away,    her  fingers  curled  around  the  thermos,     cool  metal  against  sun-warmed  palms,     as  she  listened  to  lenny’s  words  settle  between  them  like  driftwood  —  washed  up,     worn  smooth  by  time,    but  still  heavy  with  where  it  came  from.     there  was  no  pity  in  her  eyes,     only  the  quiet,     steady  knowing  of  someone  who  understood  that  kind  of  weight.     the  kind  that  clings  to  your  ribs  long  after  the  moment  has  passed.     the  kind  that  doesn’t  let  go  so  much  as  it  just  gets  quieter  with  time.     she  passed  the  thermos  over  without  hesitation,     a  small  grin  flickering  at  the  edge  of  her  lips.    “  it’s  yours.     no  more  secrets  required.  ”     she  said  softly,     voice  catching  in  that  space  between  warmth  and  reverence.     “  but  for  the  record...     that  was  one  hell  of  a  fire-walk  you  just  laid  down.  ”    adisila  leaned  her  shoulder  gently  into  lenny’s,     not  enough  to  demand  anything  —  just  enough  to  say  i’m  here.    the  sun  was  bleeding  color  into  the  waves,     staining  the  sea  with  streaks  of  gold  and  blood-orange,     like  even  the  sky  was  aching  to  be  honest  for  once.    “  you  know,  ”     she  murmured  after  a  moment,    “  i  think  you’re  right.     maybe  it’s  not  about  going  back  and  changing  it  all  —  'cause  we  can’t,     anyway.     but  we  can  stop  letting  it  chew  us  up  from  the  inside  out.     can  learn  to  sit  with  it.     let  the  fire  burn  off  what  we  don’t  need  and  keep  what  we  do.  "

[silkfms]

she let out a short laugh — one of the rare ones, low and genuine, the kind that didn’t sound rehearsed or weaponized. it wasn’t the kind of thing she gave away often. but mags earned it. “you would run a cult,” she said, tapping her nail against the table once, deliberate. “but it’d be the aesthetically pleasing kind. everyone in linen. matching fonts. betrayal written in cursive on moodboards.” a beat. “i’d still join.” there was something about being around magnolia that let her exhale a little. not drop her guard completely — serin wasn’t reckless — but relax enough to let someone see her without immediately calculating what that visibility might cost. “it’s not superficial,” she said plainly, voice softer now. “it’s curated. it’s storytelling. anyone who thinks otherwise isn’t paying attention.” then, with a glance up and a sly tilt of her mouth, she added, “and honestly? if they’re not smart enough to keep up, they don’t deserve the behind-the-scenes tour.” her phone buzzed, but she ignored it. instead, she leaned back in her chair and gave mags a once-over — not critical, just contemplative. “you do know you’re the only person in this town i don’t secretly want to throttle after ten minutes, right?” the smirk returned, but it didn’t quite erase the honesty in her tone. “i don’t like people. but you? you’re good.” serin reached for another bite of croissant, then paused like she just remembered something. “and don’t think i didn’t notice you almost touching the edge of my folder earlier,” she said, pointing her fork like a warning. “next time you get curious, bring a peace offering. almond tart. no less.” then she took a bite and added, mouth half-full but still elegant somehow, “...and i swear to god, if you ever say i make it look effortless again, i will make you sit through my entire camera roll before posting. unedited.”

“i  am  a  girlboss  cult  leader,  in  my  own  head  !”  she  declared,  voice  full  of  confidence  yet  in  reality,  magnolia  was  exiled  from  her  own  island  –  biding  her  time  in  palmview  until  it  accepted  her  back  in.  “you  say  that  like  you  wouldn't  show  up  and  have  a  good  time.”  she  nodded  along  to  serin's  words,  the  exact  same  thought  reoccuring  in  her  brain  only  a  mere  second  ago  –  serin  understood  her  in  ways  other  people  failed  to  and  it  was  something  she  did  not  take  lightly.  “exactly  !  you  get  it.  god,  it's  such  a  relief  not  to  have  to  translate  my  soul  whenever  i'm  around  you.  you  understand  the  layers  –  the  narrative.  everyone  else  just  gives  me  crazy  eyes  or  thinks  i'm  being  superficial.”  magnolia  took  a  sip  of  her  coffee  and  resumed  the  task  at  hand,  the  moment  ending  just  as  quickly  as  it  started.  “you  really  don't  play  around  with  your  drafts  folder,  huh  ?  fine…  i  can  control  myself.  –  and  yes,  i  do  but  only  because  you  make  everything  look  so  effortless.” 

[silkfms]

her smile didn’t falter. it never did. not when people barked louder than they bit. not when they started flailing in the deep end, desperate to pull her in with them. serin simply arched a brow, just enough to convey amusement without stepping fully into mockery. restraint, after all, was an art form — and she had mastered it young. “well,” she said lightly, taking another sip of wine as if this conversation were no more disruptive than a breeze rustling the vines, “i suppose we’ve found the edge of your comprehension. tragic, but not uncommon.” she leaned back slightly, just enough to bask in the sunlight and her own composure, eyes scanning summer like she was part of the decor — pretty enough from afar, but underwhelming upon closer inspection. “if you're going to throw around words like nonsense, you might try keeping up with the conversation first. context is important. unless you just enjoy sounding lost.” the therapist comment almost earned a laugh — almost. but serin didn’t give out reactions freely. instead, she offered a tight, knowing smile, the kind that always hinted she was five steps ahead and thoroughly bored. “oh, darling,” she purred, “i’ve already been to therapy. the best money could buy. they called me uncompromising. i took it as a compliment.” she set her glass down with precision, fingers resting on the rim like she might snap it clean if provoked. “but you,” she added, tilting her head to mirror summer’s — not a mimic, but a warning, subtle and stylish. “you came all this way just to what? insult me? psychoanalyze me in broad daylight with that mall-bought confidence and nothing clever to back it?” a beat. then, her voice dipped, just slightly. “you walked into the lion’s den and expected a therapy circle. bold.” she smiled again — that quiet, killer smile. “but if this is some sad attempt at trying to flirt? through negging of all things, you should know i don’t fall for the ones who flinch first.”

“you  know,  that  doesn't  surprise  me,  actually.”  she's  sure  the  other  had  GIVEN  UP  seeking  approval  many  years  ago.  she  had  to  pity  her  just  a  bit.  it  must  be  tiring  looking  for  approval  and  never  receiving  it.  and  summer  begins  to  wonder  if  there's  a  specific  reason  why,  because  all  of  a  sudden  the  words  coming  out  of  her  mouth  make  zero  sense.  she  glances  behind  her,  hoping  there  was  someone  the  other  could  possibly  be  speaking  to,  but  nope.  she  was  unfortunately  on  the  receiving  end  of  a  bunch  of  nonsense.  “what  the  hell  are  you  talking  about  ?”  she  cocks  her  head  to  the  side,  blinking.  “do  you  really  consider  this  flirting  ?”  the  poor  girl  was  farther  gone  than  summer  could  even  imagine.  “do  you  need  a  therapist  ?  i'm  sure  there  are  some  good  ones  in  this  town.”

[silkfms]

“smart man,” she said, pushing off the dresser with a grunt that said she’d definitely feel it tomorrow but wasn’t about to admit it out loud. “you play it right, and next time someone asks you for moving help, you just gesture vaguely and say war wound from the vélez job like it’s some mob shit.” her tone was dry, but the glint in her eye gave her away — that rare kind of amused she didn’t hand out to just anyone. she moved toward the kitchen, bare feet padded on hardwood, and cracked open the fridge like a woman on a mission. pulled out two beers, popped the tops off with the magnetized opener on the side of the microwave, and offered one over her shoulder. “cheers to surviving bad decisions and heavy furniture,” she said, clinking her bottle lightly against his when he took it. “and to part-time muscles with full-time patience.” his response — hopeful, warm, impossibly decent — settled into her ribs in a way she didn’t let herself linger on. not often. people like isaiah were rare. people who meant it when they said things like it’s only right. lenny didn’t believe in saints, but she believed in good people trying, even when they didn’t have to. and isaiah? he was trying. with her. dangerous habit, that. “you know,” she said after a beat, dropping onto the couch with the grace of someone finally giving in to gravity, “if more people thought the way you do, the world might actually be tolerable.” a beat. “still wouldn’t trust ‘em with my furniture, though.” she kicked her feet up on the coffee table, tilted her head toward him with that familiar smirk — the one that always came with a challenge baked in. “you want to pick the pizza or leave it to fate and let me order something ridiculous?” pause. “and no, i won’t get pineapple. i’m reckless, not a war criminal.” lenny reached for her phone, already tapping through her go-to pizza spot like she’d done this a dozen times before — and maybe she had. but tonight was different. less lonely. “pepperoni, sausage, and one that’s just plain cheese in case you suddenly develop a moral stance on toppings,” she muttered, sending it off before he could argue. “twenty five minutes, give or take. we earned it.”

A soft chuckle and single nod of the head came from him as if to somewhat seriously agree to point Lenny in the direction of small decorative items in the future to avoid having a repeat of their current situation. "Sounds like I'm going to have to update my resume — add something in there about not getting defeated by a dresser, or at least not completely." Something told him that when he woke up the following day, it would certainly feel like the dresser won this little battle with the soreness that was sure to linger. That was a future issue, though, and not worth preemptively complaining about. "Is there such a thing?" It was more of a rhetorical question than a genuine one. Isaiah was well aware that there were times in his life when he was a little too nice and that sometimes his kindness was taken advantage of. Despite that, he was always willing to try again, opting to see the light in the world rather than dwell on the negative. It was a little naive, perhaps, but he saw no reason to change. His shoulder rose and fell in a casual shrug, "I would hope that someone would be willing to help me out if I was in a similar predicament, so it's only right that I do the same for someone else." His stance on the matter was a mix of 'be the change you want to see in the world' and 'pay any kindness you're shown forward.' He laughed again, this time with a bit more energy than previously, "After this near defeat, I wouldn't even try to argue against it. It'd give me a solid excuse to avoid trying to help someone else move something into their place." His words were nothing but a good natured joke, knowing it was incredibly unlikely for him to try to weasel his way out of extending the same kind of help to another. "Well, I was going to say no thanks necessary, but it would just be absurd to turn down free food, so I'll take you up on that."

[silkfms]

the corner of her mouth twitched. not quite a smile — lenny vélez didn’t offer those easily. more like a crack in marble, a small shift in something otherwise immovable. “stood up?” she repeated, voice dry enough to rival the martinis served two tables over. she reached for her espresso but didn’t drink. just held it between two fingers like a dare. “bold choice, throwing in pathos before introductions. either you think i’m sentimental… or you’re hoping i still have a weakness for pretty women with prettier stories.” the sunglasses came off then, slow and precise, revealing sharp brown eyes that didn’t miss much — and certainly didn’t trust easily. she took in zaira’s carefully curated appearance, the way the purse caught the light like a cry for attention. and maybe it was. “i’ve seen your face before,” she said simply. not a question. not praise. just fact. “probably on a billboard, probably in a lawsuit. the kind where everyone smiles through their teeth while they circle the drain.” she finally took a sip of the espresso, exhaling like it helped keep her spine straight. it didn’t. she was already steel. “you’re not here over dinner seating,” lenny said, leaning back in her chair. “you’re here because something smells like smoke, and you want someone who doesn’t blink around fire.” she nodded once, subtly — an invitation, not a kindness. “so go ahead, tell me what mess you’ve made… and what you’re offering to make it mine.”

“  neither  of  us  are  any  stranger  to  guilt  ,  ”  comes  the  swift  ,  if  not  serene  ,  response  .  the  model  clutches  the  sparkling  gemstone  of  her  small  purse  against  her  waistline  ,  a  brilliant  gem  in  bright  sapphire  tones  .  in  the  seeping  lights  of  this  place  ,  it  seems  as  though  the  literal  void  opens  up  around  her  —  and  thus  ,  this  might  speak  of  her  hidden  mood  .  despite  the  calm  smile  ,  her  mind  races  .  thinking  of  future  first  steps  ,  of  what  might  be  her  last  pitfall  out  of  her  long  -  standing  career  .  it  seems  as  though  ,  as  of  late  ,  many  little  rats  wish  to  come  out  of  the  woodwork  and  speak  on  her  past  .  say  as  though  they  were  there  ,  as  though  they  were  the  ones  wronged  by  her  .  the  slander  …  even  one  tabloid  is  far  too  much  for  zaira  .  and  yet  ,  it  also  tells  of  long  -  lasting  success  ,  and  so  truly  she  cannot  be  too  upset  .  but  would  it  truly  be  a  lie  if  she  began  softly  ?  “  if  i  said  they  cleared  my  table  because  i  got  stood  up  ,  and  now  they're  full  again  ,  does  that  change  your  mind  on  my  approach  ?  ”  perhaps  they  recognise  one  another's  faces  ,  from  a  previous  case  ,  or  it  might  be  we  advertise  on  billboards  ,  we  fought  for  our  space  in  this  world  .  either  way  ,  zaira  feels  that  flaring  in  their  chest  at  the  sign  of  somewhat  of  a  kindred  spirit  —  even  if  the  manner  in  which  they  are  kindred  ends  up  being  cutthroat  .

[silkfms]

a low, velvet laugh slipped past her lips — brief, amused, deliberate. “terror,” she echoed, eyes glinting with something that might’ve been approval. or maybe just entertainment. it was always hard to tell with her. “well. that is the more accurate translation for most people who’ve tried to explain it to me.” she turned slightly, angling her body toward sadie with the kind of grace that suggested she was being photographed even when she wasn’t. the scarf around her neck fluttered faintly in the breeze — chanel, of course, because what else would you wear to a place that boasted grape-stained romance? “you’ll find i have very few princess habits,” she said, tone feather-light but laced with something steely underneath. “but yes — that’s mine. and no, no one dares to plant anything near me unless they’re asking for a slow and excruciating lesson in manners.” serin lifted the glass between perfectly poised fingers, giving it another idle swirl before taking a sip. dry, crisp, notes of citrus. palatable. even if the ambiance was trying just a little too hard. she let the silence linger a beat, watching sadie the way one might watch a particularly interesting flame. “so,” she said at last, her voice dipped in silk and suggestion, “you hate the dirt, you hate the wine, you tolerate the cheese. i’m curious — what exactly are you doing here?” the smirk returned — sharper now, polished to a point. “or are you like me, pretending the setting is the point when really, you just enjoy watching people sweat under the illusion of charm?”

for  sure  ,  sadie  themself  would  not  go  so  far  as  to  remark  that  they  enjoy  the  dirt  .  they  fucking  hate  it  ,  to  be  real  ,  and  yet  there  they  were  ,  day  in  and  day  out  ,  as  though  programmed  like  a  supercomputer  out  of  the  nineties  to  do  such  work  .  alongside  the  fashion  editorial's  prime  choice  cut  rib  of  clothing  ,  sadie  ,  in  a  flowing  silk  blouse  tucked  into  no  -  nonsense  pinstripe  slacks  ,  had  some  —  decorum  for  the  setting  .  they  glance  towards  the  grapes  affronted  ,  back  to  her  ,  and  then  back  to  the  grapes  .  they  try  to  find  any  kind  of  blemish  and  just  see  slightly  smudged  (  GRAPES  ARE  FUCKING  OPAQUE)  fruits  .  “  yeah  ,  ah  ,  talk  about  a  reality  check  .  lots  of  people  don't  see  the  hard  work  that'll  go  into  a  single  bottle  of  fucking  wine  .  ”  she  then  glances  around  the  estate  ,  the  left  side  of  her  mouth  twitching  in  a  slight  grimace  .  a  loud  person  ,  prone  to  cursing  ,  perhaps  proving  that  she  entirely  lacks  decorum  .  and  yet  their  snobbishness  still  can  prevail  in  other  ways  .  “  rest  your  princess  nails  ,  because  i  don't  know  the  first  thing  about  terror  .  ” mispronouncing  the  name  on  purpose  .  a  little  smile  .  well  ,  terror  …  maybe  .  “  now  ,  what  i  can  wax  poetic  or  not  about  is  the  choice  of  cheese  .  i  tell  you  what  ,  some  of  their  stink  …  man  ,  it  can  just  drown  out  the  dubious  taste  of  the  wines  .  ”  there  was  a  snort  of  a  laugh  ,  a  wrinkling  of  their  nose  .  oh  ,  god  ,  it's  too  much  fun  to  be  a  problem  sometimes  .  old  habits  die  hard  .  and  they  don't  think  a  thing  of  it  .  they  then  gesture  ,  with  their  pinky  ,  at  the  glass  near  her  .  “  that  yours  ?  ” she  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  someone  had  subtly  planted  it  near  serin  —  as  in  ,  dumped  it  .  but  the  weather  was  nice  ,  despite  the  moisture  constantly  clinging  to  the  sea  fucking  air  .  sadie  wouldn't  give  a  complaint  about  that  .

[silkfms]

she let out a quiet, elegant snort — the kind that could almost be mistaken for a sigh if you didn’t know her. “bold of you to assume i don’t thrive alone,” she said, dipping her brush delicately into the mask like she was painting a masterpiece, not slathering clay onto a face she was only sometimes fond of. “but fine. your presence has been tolerated. marginally.” her eyes flicked up, and the smirk sharpened. “and yes, i have three purifiers. one for each aesthetic zone. obviously.” she gestured with the brush toward the corner of the loft where a ficus stood next to a vintage lamp and an absurdly expensive speaker system. “that’s the earthy but emotionally unavailable section.” she painted a careful stroke of the mask across her cheekbone before finally glancing at him again, one brow arched like a dare. “and of course you want mine first. everyone does. tragic chaos always goes better with a face mask and mockery.” serin leaned back, legs tucked under her in that graceful way only someone who’d studied ballet for three years and then quit because it bored her could pull off. “let’s see,” she mused, tapping the end of the brush against her lip. “last week i ghosted a hedge fund heir because he said i had strong eyebrows. which, frankly, sounds like a hate crime.” she shrugged, unconcerned. “then there’s the photographer who wanted to capture my essence but couldn’t spell chiaroscuro, and the pr guy who tried to network mid-kiss.” a beat. then, “so, all in all… a pretty light week.” she tilted her head, lips twitching with restrained amusement. “your turn, pores of the people. and don’t skip the part where you thought the bartender was flirting just because she smiled twice.”

“because  your  only  other  option  was  to  spend  the  night  alone,”  as  he  enters  her  apartment,  eyes  fixated  on  taking  the  floorplan  in.  the  space  is  nice,  each  square  foot  decorated  sleek  and  intentionally,  much  like  he'd  expect  from  her.  “it's  not  even  that  bad  !”  he  laughs,  settling  onto  the  other  side  of  the  couch,  hands  brushing  over  the  velvet.  he's  always  had  a  bad  habit  of  getting  distracted,  but  put  something  textured  in  front  of  him  and  you're  lucky  if  he  manages  to  remember  the  last  word  he  said.  pulling  his  attention  away  from  the  mindless  movement,  he's  eyeing  the  bowl  like  it  contains  a  foreign  object.  he's  not  sure  what  the  brush  is  for,  but  he's  sure  that  she'll  tell  him  (  or  he'll  watch  and  follow  her  lead  ).  “my  pores  are  thanking  you  already,  the  air  is  rich  in  here.  how  many  purifiers  do  you  have  ?  twelve  ?"  stirring  the  mask,  he  settles  back  into  the  couch  and  sets  the  bowl  on  his  lap,  saving  skin  care  for  later.  “yours,  because  i  know  better  than  to  give  you  the  hot  goss  before  getting  my  own  in  return.”

[silkfms]

serin didn’t answer right away — just tilted her head, expression unreadable as she held that look on magnolia like she was deciding between laughing or launching a verbal assassination. it lasted all of three seconds. “strategic and gifted,” she repeated, voice lilting with amusement. “look at you, branding yourself like a girlboss cult leader. next thing you know, i’m gonna be getting invites to sip & strategize brunches with crystal-infused planners and motivational moodboards.” she took a bite of her croissant, then flicked her gaze toward the planner on mags’ screen — the organized little grid of tones and textures, all perfectly aligned. it was so… clean. planned. it should’ve grated on her. but instead, she found herself… pleased. maybe even relieved. “you know, i used to think no one else got it,” she murmured, almost absently. “the layers. the way one post breathes into the next, how it’s not about who you are, but who you’re suggesting you might be.” she paused, then glanced at mags again, eyes a little softer. “you get it.” then, as if the moment never existed, she arched a perfectly sculpted brow. “...but if you touch my drafts folder without consent, i will revoke your latte privileges for a week. maybe two. even i have limits.” a smirk, then — genuine this time. “and for the record? if i do look like a vogue spread, it’s because i planned it that way. you think this hair just happens?”

“if  i  were  a  tech  overlord,”  she  started,  switching  screens  over  to  a  feed  planner  application.  they  were  done  choosing  the  basics,  now  it  was  time  to  plan  ahead,  of  course  !  if  magnolia  was  anything,  she  was  thorough  to  the  point  of  madness.  “my  watermark  would  look  very  different.  subtle,  chic,  mysterious,  perhaps  !  too  obvious  and  it  just  looks  tacky.  if  you  could  see  the  thoughts  running  through  my  mind  ?  like,  honestly,  you  should  be  grateful  i'm  only  asking  for  editorial,”  magnolia  knew  serin  allowed  her  to  do  this  only  because  she  geninuely  enjoyed  it  –  she  already  knew  how  to  perfectly  curate  a  feed,  her  digital  presence  just  as  captivating  as  the  real  deal.  she  truly  did  not  need  magnolia,  which  made  it  that  much  more  special  that  she  trusted  her  to  rearrange  a  few  pieces.  “well,  don't  say  it  like  it's  a  bad  thing  ! i  prefer…  strategic  &  gifted,”  she  took  a  sip  of  her  own  coffee  before  continuing,  “well,  it  may  be  timeless  but  so  is  denial.”  she  said  it  with  such  finality  that  if  she  hadn't  broken  into  a  laugh,  anyone  would've  believed  she  was  being  serious.  “i  can't  help  it,  okay  ?  you  practically  look  like  a  vogue  spread  while  sitting  there  drinking  your  coffee  with  your  croissant.” 

[silkfms]

lenny tilted her head at the question, her smirk steady as ever, but something in her gaze softened — not out of mercy, but curiosity. maybe surprise. she hadn't expected him to keep pace, much less meet her toe-to-toe with that grin like he knew it wouldn’t be the last time she gave him hell. “depends,” she said slowly, eyes dragging over his face like a scalpel, “is that your government name or just what your exes whisper when they warn people off?” she didn’t wait for an answer — didn’t need one — just shifted to lean against the bar, resting her elbow with the casualness of someone used to being on offense even when she was at rest. “and for the record,” she added, gesturing lazily toward the bartender who had clearly clocked the tension and was now hovering just close enough, “dry cleaning’s non-negotiable. some of us don’t buy delicate with department store coupons.” then, with the faintest ghost of a grin, “but hey — drinks, damage control, maybe even a voicemail if you play your cards right. sounds like a pretty good start to me.” she glanced sideways at him then, more assessing than flirtatious. but there was a gleam in her eye now, like she'd decided he wasn’t entirely a lost cause. a beat passed. “you got a real name, golden boy? or do i just call you trouble and keep it simple?”

“seems  to  work  for  most  of  them,  especially  the  ones  i  spill,”  michael  did  not  flinch  under  her  gaze,  rather  he  held  it  like  someone  used  to  landing  himself  into  situations  exactly  like  this  one.  had  he  seen  her  before  spilling  his  drink  all  over  her,  he  would've  predicted  a  different  outcome  entirely  –  one  that  did  not  involve  the  exchange  of  laughter  and  peace  offerings.  “i'll  cover  the  drinks  and  the  dry  cleaning  bill  but  i  think  the  strongly  worded  voicemail  would  be  unneccessary  by  then,”  he  joked,  letting  out  a  soft  laugh.  “golden  boy  not  doing  it  for  you  ?”

[silkfms]

lenny stilled at that — not visibly, not enough to draw attention, but enough. the kind of pause that lived in her shoulders, in the way her fingers curled loosely around the cup but didn’t lift it. she hated that he said it like it was a good thing. like the years hadn’t left their fingerprints on her, even if she didn’t let them show. “maybe not,” she said quietly, without the usual bite. “but not everyone gets the luxury of change.” her eyes met his then, less guarded. not soft, exactly — she didn’t do soft, not easily — but something flickered there. recognition, maybe. a truce of sorts. “you know what this town does to people, drew. it rewrites you before you even notice. tells you who you are, who you’ve been, who you should be. the trick is not forgetting what you believe underneath all that noise.” she looked away after that, toward the edge of the patio where a couple laughed too loudly over overpriced cocktails. the wind caught a strand of hair that had fallen loose from her bun, and for once, she didn’t bother tucking it back. “so yeah. maybe i still talk like i’m drafting closing arguments,” she added, tone lighter now, almost self-aware. “but it keeps people guessing. and i like a little leverage.” a pause. the corner of her mouth lifted. “you haven’t changed much either. still calling me out like it’s a goddamn love language.” and there it was — a crack in the armor, small but real.

“  len  ,  you're  not  on  the  clock  right  now  .  you  don't  need  to  be  slinging  prose  ,  ”  andrew  folds  his  hands  on  the  table  ,  feeling  like  he's  just  been  transported  to  the  old  mystery  books  he  read  as  a  child  .  it's  not  unheard  of  .  in  fact  ,  it's  on  brand  for  the  other  .  “  you  haven't  changed  a  bit  .  ” 

[silkfms]

she made a soft sound — not quite a laugh, but not far from one either. something wry, something almost indulgent. she let his words hang there, like a painting she wasn’t sure she liked but couldn’t stop examining. “so you’re estranged, charming, and utterly unbothered by women who speak in riddles,” she said, ticking the items off like a mental ledger. “either you’re lying, or you’re far more self-assured than your haircut suggests.” the jab was offhand, almost affectionate in its cruelty. she didn’t need him to flinch — she just liked knowing where the pressure points were. her gaze swept him again, slower this time. not flirtatious. diagnostic. “i suppose i should be flattered. most men squirm when they realize they’re not driving the conversation.” she took another sip of wine, this one smaller, like she was making it last. the breeze played with the ends of her scarf, and the sun filtered gold through the glass in her hand, catching on the edge of her sharp grin. “but then, i’m not really here to impress most men.” a beat. her head tilted. “why are you here?” she asked, dragging his name out like it tasted strange in her mouth. “not for the wine, clearly. not for the women — or at least, not for me. unless you’re here to get your heart broken on purpose, in which case... by all means.” there was that smile again — brief, razor-thin, dangerous if you got too close. “but don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

“  first  of  all  ,  i  am  charming  .  second  of  all  ,  ”  he  pauses  ,  realizing  he  doesn't  really  care  what  this  person  thinks  of  him  .  he  relaxes  his  posture  ,  keeping  his  cool  .  it's  like  his  siblings  are  in  the  room  with  him  ,  teasing  him  for  his  fiery  attitude  and  inability  to  chill  .  he  looks  back  at  the  other  ,  a  puzzle  with  a  few  pieces  missing  —  withheld  from  view  .  “  hi  serin  ,  ”  he  switches  gears  ,  faking  a  smile  ,  though  a  part  of  him  is  amused  .  “  you  don't  make  me  nervous  .  no  one  can  do  that  except  for  my  parents  and  i  haven't  spoken  to  them  in  years  .  ”  an  open  book  ,  perhaps  to  a  fault  ,  but  what  would  it  matter  if  she  had  a  glimpse  into  his  life  ?

[silkfms]

she blinked once, slowly. not out of confusion — no, she understood exactly what he was doing. it was the kind of answer no one expects in a vineyard, and for a brief, telling second, her smile sharpened with interest. “well,” she said, tone silk-smooth and bone-dry, “if you’re going to make an impression, that is certainly one way to do it.” she tilted her head, regarding him now with something keener than her earlier dismissal — not quite approval, but a marked elevation from background noise to potential. like he’d leaned in during a high-stakes game of poker and laid down a wildcard. “george always struck me as a bit dramatic, but i suppose we all want control over our own endings.” she swirled her glass, watching the wine catch sunlight in pale golden ribbons. “i personally would’ve chosen something less… bloating. but maybe that’s why i’ll never be nobility.” she took a sip, slow and practiced, then let the silence linger just long enough to be deliberate before continuing — her voice carrying the effortless, amused lilt of someone who hadn’t expected to be entertained today but wasn’t mad about it. “so, not a poet. not a sommelier. not in sales, i hope — god forbid. that leaves…” her gaze flicked up and down, thoughtful. “dark academia with a distaste for mingling? or maybe someone who likes knowing things just enough to make others uncomfortable.” her smile, then — sharp as the click of her heels when she finally stepped forward, closing the distance by an inch. “tell me something else,” she murmured. “preferably something scandalous. you’ve earned a sliver of my attention. don’t waste it.”

Henry himself wasn’t a big drinker, but it was a coworker’s birthday today; when they had invited him to the wine tasting they were holding in lieu of a birthday party, he felt constrained to say yes. But now everyone else had gone, and he was the last to leave, taking the opportunity to explore the estate without a coworker nattering into his ear. He drifted into the tasting room, only a little surprised when an employee materialized seemingly out of nowhere and pressed a glass of white wine into his hand. He was still smiling politely when Serin spoke to him. He turned his eyes to her, a shrug lifting his shoulders. “I doubt I could wax poetic about any aspect of wine,” he admitted. “The…” He paused in mild alarm as he spotted another employee bearing down on them, and he held up his wine glass, hoping to signal that he was good. Fortunately that seemed to work, and they turned in a different direction. “…enthusiasm of the employees around here makes me wonder how often they sample their own wares.” Typically, he wasn’t so blunt, but his social battery had already been depleted and so his tongue wasn’t as controlled. He did, in fact, know quite a bit about wine thanks to his prolific reading, but he sensed this was not the right audience for that. And frankly he resented the implication that he might not be interesting, along with the equally implied command to display whatever interesting traits he had. He considered for a moment. “There’s a common supposition that George, Duke of Clarence, chose to be drowned in a barrel of malmsey wine as his method of execution, when his brother, King Edward IV, had to remove him for reasons of political expediency.” He glanced at the glass in his hand. “I believe malmsey is a white wine, actually.”

[silkfms]

she let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief, leaning her weight on the now-lodged dresser like it might try to backtrack if she took her eyes off it. “yeah, no, same — i’m retiring from interior design catastrophes after this one,” she muttered, already feeling the dull ache settle in her shoulders. “next time i get the urge to spruce things up, just point me in the direction of a scented candle and call it a day.” she rolled her eyes playfully, tugging the last stubborn drawer into place and squinting like that might will the wood to behave. “and hey, don’t downplay your title — you’re officially my part-time muscle now. it comes with full bragging rights and a tragic backstory involving ikea and poor life choices.” lenny turned toward isaiah then, the corner of her mouth quirking as she caught the slight fatigue under his good-natured expression. the kind of exhaustion that came from helping someone else with their chaos and not once complaining about it. “you’re too damn nice, y’know that?” she said, quieter this time. not soft, exactly — lenny velez didn’t do soft unless someone earned it — but the edges of her voice had eased, just a little. “not a lotta people stick around when things get heavy. even fewer show up just to shove furniture around and make dumb jokes while doing it.” a beat. then a smirk. “...but if you did dent the frame back there, i’m telling everyone it was you and not me. just so we’re clear.” she stepped back, stretched her arms overhead, and let out a groan worthy of someone twice her age. “alright. pizza and cold beer sound like fair compensation? i’m not above bribery.”

"Whose place hasn't fallen victim to a clearance sale before?" There was a lightheartedness to his words as a way to try to maintain some sort of positive attitude in face of this challenge as if that would be enough to will the dresser inside. Isaiah was surprised he didn't somehow manage to accidentally hit the dresser on the doorframe and cause minor damage as he tried to keep up with the directions, get a small chuckle out, and feel a little fatigue from the circumstances creep in. "And here I was beginning to think we might not ever make any progress." A small part of him worried that celebrating this small victory would, by some terrible turn of events, cause the dresser to find a way to inch right back out. "Hire sounds too formal, you're free to just ask me to help out again." Despite how much of struggle this whole ordeal was, he was still willing to lend a hand in the future, predictably so. "With that being said, I might lean more towards the latter as a form of helping out. This may have slightly put me off to moving more furniture in the near future." At least that meant he wouldn't be adding anything new to his own place anytime soon.

[silkfms]

she didn’t flinch. didn’t blink. the smirk that touched her lips now was subtle — smoothed into something that almost looked like amusement if you didn’t know her well enough to recognize the blade beneath it. “ugly duckling,” she repeated softly, her gaze drifting over summer like one might skim an article they’d already decided wasn’t worth finishing. “that’s sweet. but i’ve never been much for fairy tales. especially ones that hinge on someone else's approval to become beautiful.” she tilted her glass, let the sauvignon blanc catch the sun just so — golden, delicate, intentional. “and no,” she added, voice still silky, still pleasant, “i didn’t know we were playing lost and found. i was under the impression we were drinking. though if this is how you flirt, i suppose i understand why you rely on the wine.” serin took a sip then, finally — an elegant, effortless thing — and let the silence stretch for half a second longer than it should have. “but do go on,” she said, gesturing slightly with her glass. “i’m always curious how other people try to hold a mirror up to me. it’s the most efficient way to see what they’re insecure about.” and now the smirk returned, barely there, sharp as glass. “so… what was it you thought you saw?”

summer  bradford  was  indeed  A  WINE  GIRL.  had  been  drinking  glasses  alongside  her  mother  since  the  age  of  seventeen,  so  she'd  acquired  a  certain  palette.  the  other's  words,  frankly,  annoy  her.  why  be  at  a  vineyard  at  all  if  you  weren't  there  to  try  the  wine  flights  and  keep  your  mouth  shut  ?  “it's  just  an  ugly  duckling  story,”  summer  muses  as  she  looks  the  other  up  and  down.  her  heels  sinking  into  the  ground  was  quite  the  unfortunate  sight.  “you  seem  like  you'd  like  that  kind  of  thing,”  she  shrugs,  raising  her  glass  to  her  lips.  “why.  do  you  think  you're  not  interesting  enough  ?”  summer  is  sure  she'd  agree.  “did  you  even  know  you  were  coming  here  ?"  a  faux  look  of  concern  crosses  her  face.  "you  look…  lost.”