theobailey

[theobailey]

Leaning back against the counter, he added with a dry chuckle, “As for Lord Cerberus, don’t get too excited. He’s… tolerable at best. But love? That’s a stretch. I’d sooner start loving the cold than that scheming mutt.” Despite his grumbling, a hint of a smirk betrayed him—it was hard to stay entirely irritated with the ridiculous dog. "He's certainly no Nana Darling."

Theo felt the weight of Nilay’s hand on his, grounding but also unsettling. She looked tired—exhausted, really—and hearing her list off everything she’d been juggling made him feel a pang of guilt for adding to her plate. He hadn’t realized just how much she had going on, though he should have known. Nilay had a habit of overloading herself, and he suspected she wasn’t being entirely honest about how much it was affecting her. He squeezed her hand lightly, offering a small smile. “A headless chicken, you say? Hardly. You make it look like a perfectly choreographed dance.” He tried to keep his tone light, though his eyes softened with concern. “Though if you keep it up, you might actually turn into one. You’re burning the candle at both ends, Nil. Even with the institute and all your other brilliant projects, you’re still a person, you know. You need rest.”

He paused, his gaze flickering to the tea she’d pushed toward him. He busied himself pouring a cup, buying himself a moment. “I’m sorry if I’ve added to the chaos,” he said after a beat, his voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to pile on.” He turned to her then, his expression open but guarded, readying himself for whatever she might say next. He set his mug down on the counter and turned slightly to face her. He knew her better than most; he could tell there was something in her voice. "I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bracing myself. You don’t usually handle me with kid gloves unless it’s something that’s going to sting.” It was a weak attempt at humour, but it was the best he could muster. He didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t say what she needed to, but he also wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear it. “I’m listening,” he said simply, his tone steady but edged with vulnerability. “I always do when it’s you.” The way he said it carried an unspoken plea: just don’t tell me I’m making a mistake.

Every time she noticed Theo's actions around Evrim and Safiye, and vice versa, there was a part of her soul that died. It'd been just them for the longest time. Both had been through unspeakable things before they were adopted by their parents, after all. Then, suddenly, two perfect strangers show up with evidence that they are Nilay's biological siblings. For Nilay, as scared as she had been at first letting them in, she knew that they had been telling her the truth. It'd been impossible to try and pretend otherwise. And fortunately, her parents had been ready to welcome them into the family. Theo, however... Nile wasn't ignorant nor oblivious, though she greatly wished, naively, that things were better than this. "Sooner rather than later, you're going to admit how much you love that 'awful hound' and I'll be here, smirking, calling it," she mused teasingly. Though, she wasn't just talking about Cerberus at this point. And she hoped that he realized that as well.

After filling up her tulip tea cup, she moved the tea pot over to her brother. The silence between them... Of course she hated it. Of course she hated keeping her thoughts about his latest desire to herself. But how could she tell him gently without risking hurting him in the end? And Dylan: if she were to hear, would she also be hurt? Her concerns weren't about the art curator herself. No, in a different scenario and in a time further on from here, Nilay would've been over the moon with her brother's words and ask what she could do to help. But... That was the issue here. Time. She believed that they needed more time before such a life-altering decision. Cautiously sipping her tea, she closed her eyes at his words. Swallowing thickly before placing her cup back down on its saucer.

"Not just the museum, but everything," she said. "Between stuff with Eli and the girls, the UK and Europe book tours finishing up and then having the American one in January, deadlines for both the channel and my next documentary, the institute opening up soon, and so much more, I've been a bit of a headless chicken lately." And her health still acting up with the fainting fits occurring more and more since August. Glancing over, she sighed softly and reached out to place her hand over her brother's. "I'm sorry. I'm just very busy right now. Though... I have been thinking. About that." I just need you to promise me that you'll understand where I'm coming from with this.

[theobailey]

Theo’s eyes settled on the King of Pentacles, the figure exuding a quiet confidence that seemed worlds away from his own reality. His fingers drummed against the table, the rhythm halting as he took in her words. Stability. Security. Preparedness. They felt like traits belonging to someone else. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Grounded and responsible? You sure that one’s for me?” His tone was light, but there was a faint edge to it, the self-doubt peeking through his charm. “Sounds more like a card for my dad." Dr. Esfahani, world explorer whose idea of a midlife crisis is discovering an ancient civilization, a man who somehow always knows exactly what he’s doing. He gestured loosely with one hand, a crooked smile forming. I'm just trying to learn how to assemble a baby cot without swearing like a sailor.”

Her mention of legacy, though, made him pause. The idea struck a chord, one he wasn’t entirely ready to admit. “Carrying on a legacy,” he mused, his voice quieter now, as if he were testing the words out. Whose legacy? “It’s strange to think about. I’ve spent so much time running from all of it. But... I won't say it doesn't make sense, which is... Creepy to say the least." He chuckled. The cards were feeling a bit too real. Then he shrugged. "Maybe it’s not all bad. Maybe there’s something worth passing on.” He straightened in his seat, the faintest glimmer of determination breaking through his usual nonchalance.

Theo leaned forward, tapping the edge of the third card. “Alright, what’s next? Give me something juicy. If this one’s all rainbows and stability too, I’ll start thinking you’re making this up.” His grin returned, playful yet tinged with anticipation.

Opal watched carefully, studying the more subtle of his reactions. She could still sense skepticism and she wondered if she should pull back a little, toss a crumb of hard reality in there to roughen up the edges. Perhaps she'd grown too content with the usual clientele who paid handsomely to be told what they wanted to hear rather than what they needed.

Still, she chuckled at his question, glancing down at the cards for a moment. "Well, they are open to interpretation, so I suppose you could be right. But I find tarot leans more into the abstract than the tangible."

She let him sit with that for a moment as her fingers danced over the second card. She flipped it, revealing the King of Pentacles. She racked her brain to remember specifics, but she let instinct guide her.

"Now here," she tapped the card, "this is about security, stability— the mark of someone who is responsible, grounded, and prepared. I’d say you’re more ready for this role than you give yourself credit for. And, as for your father," her voice softened just slightly, "this might also suggest that some of his strengths and his influence run through you, whether you see it or not. There’s a legacy you’re carrying, Theo. It's up to you whether you think those things are worthy of carrying on to the next generation. But you've got all the tools that you need."

[theobailey]

Theo blinked, momentarily taken aback by the bluntness of the man's reply before his lips curled into a wry smile. “Ah, so the Midwest has claimed yet another unwilling victim,” he said, his tone dry but laced with amusement. “Though I must admit, your running commentary has made the frostbite feel almost worth it.” He took a slow sip of his coffee, as though he were deliberating how best to engage with the stranger’s colourful tirade. “I came here of my own free will—or foolishness, depending on how you look at it. But I stayed because of family, you're right. I've been swayed by Blue Harbor’s so-called ‘idyllic charm.’” An idyllic charm by the name of Dylan Westwick and a pair of babies. "I do intend to spend as much time travelling as I can during the winter. The twins are big enough now." He felt a little bit of hope just by saying those words.

Theo tilted his head, studying him curiously. “You must be a local treasure—keeping things hot while the rest of us slowly freeze to death. Let me guess, you’re the type who thrives on being a human furnace and thinks scarves are for the weak?” He chuckled, the grin softening into something more genuine. “Or maybe you’re just here to make the rest of us look bad?”

"Makes you wonder why anyone would choose to settle down here." In case it wasn't already obvious, Ledger isn't one of those people. He didn't have much of a say in the matter though, either. Not that anyone was holding a gun to his head, forcing him to stay.

He was doing it for his sister. There wasn't anything on this earth he wouldn't do for Daphne. Which includes playing along with her idealistic whims and quixotic fairytales. "Let me guess, girlfriend? wife? convinced you it'd be worth it to freeze your balls off in the Midwest. Something about Blue Harbor's.... idyllic charm gets her going. Honestly, sucks to be you." The only thing more nauseating to him than listening to his sister compare the six different settings on her vibrator (thanks to paper thin walls) is being around people in love. Ledger would sooner cut his dick off with a pair of scissors before he succumbs to the doom awaiting him were he to ever enter into a relationship, willingly. "No rituals necessary, though. I run hot." Maybe that's why he sleeps naked. Even in the dead of winter. ( @theobailey )

[theobailey]

"Just because I can, doesn't mean I should. Believe me, I've considered it." Theo chuckled, shaking his head as he shifted his weight again, the rhythmic sway almost imperceptible but practiced. "But I’ve got roots now, and not the metaphorical kind. Actual roots. In the ground. A house by the lake, a garden, a labyrinth—all very permanent, very grown-up things." A chill ran down Theo's neck; he couldn't tell if it was a breeze too cold, or a reflex--not too long ago, he'd loathed the mere idea of roots. "And let’s not even get started on my twin dictators at home. They’ve already claimed Blue Harbor as their kingdom, and I’m just their loyal subject.” He raised his cup slightly, the steam curling around his fingers. “That said, I wouldn’t say no to the odd tropical escape. Maybe I’ll plan one after the sleepless nights and teething chaos subside. This,” he gestured with his coffee, “is my survival strategy until then.”

He paused, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Though, I’ll admit, I’m mildly intrigued by the idea of you taking down your staff with a kick drum. Very rock and roll of you. Got a venue in mind, or is it an exclusive in-store performance?” He tilted his head, a playful smirk forming. “As for you, Daniels, if the staff rebellion’s that dire, maybe I should lend you one of the twins for morale training. They’ve got a knack for ruling with an iron fist—or a very loud wail. Guaranteed results, though possibly at the cost of your sanity.”

He respected Theo’s optimism, and Roman took a moment to decide whether to argue that his spite would beat out frost and cold. But it seemed like a waste of breath, and truly he felt like the Illinois winter would win out regardless. “Sure.” He managed instead, a glorious word of the English language. 

“From what I know about you, Bailey, you can pack up to those sun-drenched islands you crave. There’s entire continents that don’t experience snow or ice all year long.” True, Roman was in the same boat, but he quite liked the obvious changing of the seasons. A sympathetic grimace — his smiles were only ever reserved for Toni and Ophelia — was plastered on his features, eyes following Theo’s glance at the legs, his own arm numb in what he imagined was sympathy. “Uncooperative lumps of rebellion, sounds like you’re describing my staff.” And he snorted. “Which is partly the reason I’m out here. Before I hit them over the head with a kick drum. And yourself?”

[theobailey]

“Wool, layering, and summer shopping sprees for winter gear? I feel like I’ve stumbled into a Midwestern masterclass.” He tilted his head, a hint of playful incredulity in his tone. “Though, I must admit, there’s something tragic about the idea of buying sweaters while sweating through July. Feels like betrayal of the season, doesn’t it?”

Theo unzipped his own jacket, revealing a simple sweater that was far more fashion-forward than functional. “I suppose I’ve failed every step of your survival guide—my wardrobe leans more toward ‘artful suffering’ than actual warmth. Maybe you could offer consultations? I’d hate for the labyrinth I’ve been building at my new place to turn into a frozen monument because its owner didn’t heed local wisdom.” Then Theo frowned, considering the idea. "Although that vision isn't too bad. Poetically speaking, of course." He let out a chuckle, gesturing vaguely outside. “So, the eternal question—do you ever get used to it, or do you just… endure?”

“i’m an illinois guy—born and raised. at this point, i’ve got my seasonal wardrobe down to a science,” graham explained, he lifted one hand from his to-go coffee cup to show off his gloved hand. he wiggled his fingers for added effect. he also, most likely, had some resistance to the cold just because he’d lived in it long enough. he’d never gone far enough south for a long enough time to grow out of his thick skin against winter winds. “come september, i start pulling the sweaters and thicker pants from storage. then come the hats, the down coat, and the gloves by the middle of october. you can never be too careful on halloween, the weather can be finicky and cruel.” he hadn’t expected to go through his whole winter routine with this stranger, but this was the typical morning routine for anyone with a dash of midwestern kindness running through them. “you’re absolutely right about layering, it works wonders. wool is a gift from sheep against the winter cold, too.” graham unzipped the top of his coat to reveal a woolen sweater underneath. “and, always buy any winter clothes during the heat of summer, and any summer clothes in the dead of winter. it saves you money on buying sweaters and coats once the cold front rushes in.”

[theobailey]

Theo chuckled, lifting his coffee cup like a mock toast. “Fair point. Gloves would be a simpler fix than uprooting my entire existence for warmer climes. But where’s the drama in that, Grace?” His grin was wide, playful, but there was an underlying fondness in his tone. “If I don’t grumble about the cold, what else would I have to complain about? My coffee being too hot? It’s all part of the seasonal experience.” He shifted slightly, leaning on his forearm crutch as he turned more fully toward her. “Though, yes, I remember Oxford winters; they're objectively bad. Now LA... Don’t tell me you traded palm trees for snowdrifts willingly. That’s practically sacrilegious.” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but his eyes searched hers, genuinely curious. “What is it keeping you here, anyway? It can’t just be the charm of local coffee carts.” He let the question hang lightly, his expression warm, inviting a response without pressing too hard.

Grace studied Theo with a bemused smile as she wrapped her own hands around her cup, its warmth seeping into her fingers. Theo was always delightful to speak with which made bumping into him in the park a lovely surprise. “I wouldn’t say I’m particularly prepared,” she replied, her accent crisply marking her words. “I think I’ve simply resigned myself to the fact that Illinois winters are relentless. Oxford winters are particularly mild as far as the UK goes, and let’s not even mention Los Angeles.”  She hadn’t truly experienced an Illinois winter yet, but the sneak preview they’d been experiencing lately simply reminded Grace that she would need to do some shopping if she was going to stay in town any longer. Her smiled curved a little higher as she mused over the idea of rituals. “I can’t say I’ve ancient wisdom to impart,” she paused, her gaze briefly flickering to the pink hue of his fingers. “But perhaps you ought to start with a pair of gloves…? Before migrating south becomes truly necessary.”

[theobailey]

Theo accepted the steaming cup of coffee from the barista with a murmured thanks, then turned toward the familiar figure next to him. His grin was immediate, teasing as ever. “Ah, Jack, braving the cold as usual. Tell me—are the labyrinth’s hedges surviving this frost, or are they plotting their slow, dramatic demise?” He raised the coffee cup in a mock salute, fingers already pink from the chill. “I’ve been informed by many an expert—yourself included—that gloves are the key to survival. And yet, here I am, entirely unprepared." Honestly, managing his crutches with gloves was quite a hassle. "You know me enough by now to know I thrive on questionable decisions.” Such as having his very own maze. Jack, of course, knew all about that.

His grin softened as he studied Jack’s bundled-up appearance. “But truly, mate, how do you do it? Out there all day, battling wind and ice like some garden warrior. Is it just years of Vermont winters toughening you up, or is there a secret gardener’s ritual I need to learn? Because it just never gets any better for me.”

Jack can't help but mutter under his breath as he comes through the door, cursing the cold and Jack Frost, and any other sinister, frozen little entity that might be responsible for the way his nose feels like it's become one big icicle in the time it's taken to walk over to the shop.

He glances up and it takes a moment to register that it's Theo speaking to him, and that his own complaints have indeed been voiced aloud. “Oh, uh- well, you know. Gardening. Being outside kinda comes with the territory. You get used to being prepared. We had pretty shitty winters in Vermont too, I guess I'm just used to it.” It helps, he thinks, that his default wardrobe is mostly made up of thick plaid regardless of the season. Layers have always been Jack's friends. Extra armour, his mother used to tease. “You gotta get yourself some decent gloves, man. Frostbite's no joke.”

[theobailey]

Theo raised his coffee cup in mock salute, his grin widening at her reply. “Chic leather gloves, cashmere lining? Sounds like a solid plan. Though I’d probably lose one within a week and end up with mismatched mittens. The coffee, at least, has the decency to stay put until I drink it.” He took a sip, letting the warmth seep into him, and caught the brief falter in her smile. It made him hesitate, but only for a fraction of a second. He knew better than to press. Instead, he chuckled at her description of San Francisco. “Ah, so you’re saying I’ve been going about this wrong. Forget migration; I just need to master the art of layering and find scarves that don’t scream ‘kindergarten field trip.’ Noted.”

Her laugh was infectious, and he shook his head, mock-serious. “But really, if I do migrate, I can send you instructions. The world needs more people who can survive an endless spring and still look decent in a hat. Just imagine, sipping something tropical, toes in the sand. The only frostbite you’d have to worry about would be in overly air-conditioned cafes.” He tilted his head, his grin softening. “So what’s keeping you here, then? Aside from impeccable scarf choices and the occasional chat with a coffee-fumbling stranger?”

Valley loved the park in the mornings, even if the cold bit at her cheeks and stiffened her fingers. She liked to watch the dogs. She was looking for one in particular (and the man on the other end of the leash) but she wouldn't say that. She was trying to give him space.

"The trick is to find a really chic-looking pair of leather gloves, lined with something lovely like cashmere, and then you'll want to wear them all year. But holding onto coffee works too," she smiled.

She was sure her smile visibly faltered with his comment on questioning the choices that brought them here, but she sipped her own coffee and ignored it as always.

"I think my preparation is just five years in San Francisco. It never gets particularly cold there, but never hot either. Just a slight chill in the air all year round. Definitely teaches you about layering and where to get scarves and hats that don't make you look like a toddler in one of those snowsuits that makes them all wobbly," she laughed. "But that being said... if you do migrate south, please bring me with you."

[theobailey]

Theo let out a soft, incredulous laugh, the kind that escaped more from sheer disbelief than amusement. “Babies? Outside? In this?” He gestured broadly to the grey, frost-tinged street with his coffee cup, his fingers still curled around it for dear warmth. “What, to toughen them up for their first snowball fight? Or is it some sort of Viking rite of passage—survive the cold, inherit the fjords?” Shaking his head, he watched as the cigarette’s smoke curled into the crisp November air, a stark contrast to his own foggy breaths. "I have two babies, and I couldn't imagine. They only leave the house looking like oversized marshmallows." He snorted, picturing it in his head.

“See, I missed that memo. I wasn’t born and raised in this. Dropped into it, maybe. Like someone thought it’d be a good joke to send the sun-loving Mediterranean orphan to the Midwest.” He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly at the bitter heat. “Although I’ll admit, it does make you lot impressively durable. What’s next? You going to tell me you can shovel snow shirtless, or does the bloodline not cover that level of insanity?” He tilted his head, studying the other man with genuine curiosity. “But seriously, you ever actually try that Scandinavia thing? Napping outside? Or is it strictly a ‘heard it from a friend of a friend’ sort of fact?”

in a worn tshirt and jeans luke stood by awaiting his turn to grab some hot chocolate. he never drank coffee. tried it once when he was a teenager and never had another drop since. the fact that people were so addicted to something so bitter was poetic, and he supposed people had a passion for punishing themselves. his own just came in other forms. "it's in the blood if you're born and raised in climates like these." luke pulled a cigarette from the pack that was soon after shoved back into his pocket and lit it up. a long drag was taken from it as he glanced at the pink fingers. "you know in cultures like scandinavia and the arctic circle they put their babies outside in their bassinets in weather colder than this for a nap?"

[theobailey]

Theo’s laughter was warm, his breath visible in the cold air. He shifted his weight, leaning more heavily on his crutches as he turned to face Roman fully. “Ah, the classic stiff upper lip and layers defense,” he said, his voice carrying that unmistakable theatrical lilt. “I respect the commitment. But spite can only carry you so far, mate. Eventually, the frost bites through even the best passive aggression.”

He took a sip of his coffee, grimacing slightly at the still-scalding temperature, then sighed. “You’re lucky, though. You're used to it. Me? I’m a fraud. I’m built for sun-drenched islands and balmy evenings. Stick me in a place like this, and suddenly my legs turn into these uncooperative lumps of rebellion.” He glanced down briefly, his tone light but the confession cutting deeper. Tilting his head, he studied Roman with mock seriousness. “But what’s the reason you’re braving the cold today, Daniels? Surely not just to show off your superior winter layering skills.”

Roman hated the cold. True, he hated most things; but the cold was up there, along with people who wore socks with sandals, and that novelty liquid hand soap that smelled like candy. Still, he needed some fresh air from the madness that was the music shop preparing itself for the festive season, figuring his employees could handle being left to their own devices for a short while. He immediately regretted it, however, migrating to the nearest coffee cart in search for something to warm his hands with, the right one in particular aching in the drop of temperature. “Being British and spiteful.” He responded gruffly to the man he always seemed to bump into at these locations. “That and I am not in the majority of townsfolk who dress inappropriately for the season.”

[theobailey]

at a coffee cart in the park with anyone! ( open )

Theo accepted the steaming cup of coffee from the barista with a murmured thanks, then turned his attention to the person who’d commented on the cold. His grin was immediate, teasing. “Oh, it’s definitely winter’s opening act. You can tell because everyone’s still pretending they don’t need gloves. Including me.” He raised the paper cup like a shield, his fingers already pink from the chill. “But come January, we’ll all be bundled up like mummies, questioning every life choice that brought us to Illinois.” He paused, his grin softening into a curious tilt of his head. “You must be better prepared than me, though. What’s your secret? Layers? Thermal socks? Some ancient ritual you’d be willing to share? I'm not a creature of the cold. I'm meant to migrate South, like birds do.”

[theobailey]

Theo stared, momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t expected Juno to casually toss out, “I wrote it,” like they were discussing the weather. His brow lifted, and a slow, impressed grin spread across his face as he took them in with newfound interest. “Well, well. You’re the master of my weekly escape,” he said, tapping the book cover. “I must say, I’m rather flattered. Most people would’ve started with that, you know—‘Hi, I’m Juno, creator of this literary rollercoaster.’” He gave them a playful wink, still slightly reeling from the revelation.

Theo's eyes flickered down to the cover, catching on the author's name. He felt a flush of recognition. "Behar," he said, narrowing his eyes almost in disbelief. “Oh, for God’s sake—I should’ve made the connection.” He chuckled, recalling hazy memories of their families’ get-togethers, marked by endless debates and enough shared stories to fill a bookshelf. He had a vague memory of Juno; Theo's teenage years had been marked by episodes of extreme anxiety and most of those memories had been lost throughout the years. "My attention is obviously not the same. I'm growing dreadfully old." Theo made a face. He tapped the cover thoughtfully, eyebrows raised in genuine admiration. “And you wrote this. I had no idea. Well, all my compliments—you’ve made my dad duty infinitely more thrilling.” There was a pause as he looked them over with renewed interest. “But first, wait--what do you mean you've never asked people what they think about your book? How is that possible? I could never show this much self restraint. I need to know this before I recommend you anything at all."

Juno’s eyes danced around for a moment as they wondered if he was being serious right that moment. Was there a smile on their face to indicate they had been teasing in some way? They certainly didn’t think so. “Not by face as you don’t seem to place me.” they gave him an obvious answer just as he had done. Clearly if Juno had inquired on his family name as opposed to just his name then their paths certainly should have crossed. They did remember though, Juno’s memory was not the best but they could place a glimpse of him in memory. A passing glance perhaps during their families lengthy friendship. “It doesn’t matter.” they said dismissively, ready to move past the family connection conversation that would have followed.  They, too, looked nothing like the rest of their family. The Behars, much like the Bailey’s had adopted a good portion of their children throughout the years. They just happened to be part of the happy litter. Speaking of litter, at the mention of his gremlins Juno’s eyes danced their way in surprise. They had certainly not noticed the creatures buckled up like criminals ready for transit. Doing their best to not portray the cringe they felt at the sight or the pair, Juno turned back to the guy. “I wrote it.” they replied matter of factly, giving a lazy shrug in the end. “I’ve just never asked anyone about it.” Juno didn’t care to. When they wrote, they wrote for themselves. They wrote for their memory and to work through a problem that haunted them to this day. The stories she told were as much her own as they were that girl’s.  Seeing as they got what they had sat there for, Juno raised from the table to walk away only to turn and come back. “If you were to recommend something for me, though...” they asked, tentatively and with much skepticism, “What would you say?”

[theobailey]

"Yes, I think so..." He said, nodding. "I'm perfectly content as a father. I don't need to be anything else. I don't need to explore the world, or have a brilliant career, like my father." Theo melted into Dylan’s embrace, letting her presence settle the storm inside him. Her touch, the steady rhythm of her breathing—it was all he needed to feel anchored. When she spoke, her words were like a balm, soothing the doubts he rarely let anyone see. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice quiet but steady. “More than I think you’ll ever really know. You're quite charming too---it's even more charming that you don't know it.” He said. For a moment, he stayed there, his head resting against her shoulder.

But then a sound—soft, almost imperceptible—caught his attention. A rustle of movement, followed by a tiny, determined grunt. He turned, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Leda gripping the edge of the baby table they were too young to use, her little legs trembling beneath her. “Dylan…” His voice was barely a whisper, his hand lightly squeezing her arm. “Look at her.” Leda wobbled on unsteady legs, her small hands releasing the table as she tottered forward. One step. Then another. Theo’s jaw dropped, his disbelief giving way to a burst of elation. “She’s walking!” he exclaimed, his voice a little too loud in his excitement. Startled, Leda froze mid-step, her wide eyes locking on his. The moment stretched for a heartbeat, then her little legs gave out, and she plopped down onto her bum with a soft thud. “Oh no!” Theo winced, immediately crouching down. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my brave little star.” He reached out, his hands gentle as he scooped her up, cradling her close.

Leda’s initial surprise quickly melted into a pout, her lower lip quivering as she processed the tumble. “Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Theo murmured, rocking her slightly. “You were brilliant, love. Absolutely brilliant.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, his voice full of admiration. “Two steps? That’s more than I managed at your age. In fact, it's more than I can manage now.” He looked up at Dylan, his grin sheepish but filled with awe. “Did you see that? Two whole steps. I mean, I might’ve ruined the moment, but still…” He trailed off, his smile softening as he gazed at Leda, who was now clutching his shirt, her tiny hands already forgetting the scare in favor of tugging at the fabric. “She’s fearless,” he said, his voice quieter now. “She’s got your determination, Dylan.” His eyes lingered on her for a moment before returning to Leda. “Next time, I’ll cheer quieter. Promise.”

"And do ya think that your ambition is different than his?" Dylan asked, actually asking rather than rhetorical, considering there was a chance that his answer could be that he did have a different type of ambition. Theo was right that his adoptive father never did lose sight of what mattered to him and that included how much he adored Theo. She knew that people could change and grow and become different than the person she first met, and Theo had grown a lot since they first became friends. Dylan loved him more and more as he has grown. And a lot of that also had to do with the answers he'd received about where he came from, and the difficult decisions he'd had to make about learning more about who his biological parents are. "Whatever you choose to do, I'll be here and I will support whatever decision you make, my precious. Alright? You're right, those answers could heal or hurt ya more. It's an awful chance that you take, but I love you and the twins love you and if that hole gets bigger? We'll be here for you to lean on." Dylan assured him of that, because no matter what she could not change what his past was and what answers his biological father could give him or not give him. It was all up in the air and unknown. However, what was known was that she would not leave him in his time of need.

She chuckled softly as Leda tried to repeat after her and said her first word again. "They are much more charmin' than I could ever be. Definitely they get that from you, my love." Dylan teases as she watches him move towards them, she feels comfortable enough to move once their little grips on her pants loosened as they were distracted by Theo's presence. Placing the last of the clothes into the drawers, she was happy to give the moment her full attention. "Aw c'mon, they love both of us very much." She hoped that the twins would still love them both very much as they grew up. It was certainly a fear that she knew was pretty unfounded in reality to be worried about. Her brows raised at the threat of getting their children a pony. "I mean if ya want to, we could build a stall for Johnny Boy too and then you'd have to let them learn how to ride." Dylan smirked, knowing that thought would worry Theo so much and he would probably take back the idea. Her smirk softened into a smile and then turned to a small frown as he shared with her his fears. "That sounds more like a self-fulfilling prophecy than the reality, Theo." She shared gently as she didn't want him to think that there was a type of man that was prone to leave or not leave. Moving into Theo's touch, Dylan wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close to her as she knew that whatever decision he made would be hard. Letting her fingers drag up and down his shoulder blade, she inhaled and closed her eyes. "I love you so much, Theo. And I know you wouldn't, I don't doubt you."

[theobailey]

Theo’s eyes narrowed a touch, his smirk barely softened by the faintest flicker of something thoughtful—just for a second. Safiye’s words had a bite he hadn’t entirely expected, a reminder that she wasn’t going to just sit there and take his barbs. Fair enough. Maybe he’d even respect it… if it didn’t make him just a tad more irritated. “Well, you’re not wrong about that. We are due.” He glanced at her, eyebrow cocked, still aiming for a lightness that barely covered the edge in his voice. “And it is an experience, being around all of us at once. But I’m sure you’ll manage, as long as you’re prepared for a little… overwhelming familial enthusiasm. The Baileys don’t hold back, if you hadn’t noticed. And you’ll see just how well they take to newcomers.” He let the words dangle, layered with enough irony to imply that he was mostly jesting—mostly.

After a beat, he added, almost as if he couldn’t help himself, “You’ve got thick skin, though. I’ll give you that. Guess my sister wouldn’t put you up for it if you didn’t.” He watched her carefully, his expression unreadable. “And if anyone challenges you to one of my mother’s dinner debates, fair warning—it’s ruthless. Best to keep your wits about you, Safiye.” He couldn’t quite resist adding, as if he needed to make sure she remembered her place, “But then again, that shouldn’t be anything new to you, should it?”

The family we're given.

If Safiye had been a different breed, she might have spat at his feet. It was a low blow, even for him, though she didn't exactly know if he knew how deeply those words affected her. Could he have known just how tragically she was treated by her own kin? She wanted to think otherwise, that he was shrewd but not at all omniscient. "Aren't we?" she repeated after him, though her voice carried it much softer—nearly inaudibly. She wished she could have hated Theo more for other things—for anything, really, other than that he also despised her and showed it more often.

Patience. As if she weren't already being that enough since they'd most unfortunately crossed paths. "I'm sure I will, too," she responded, a little eagerly since she was actually quite excited about how far she'd come with the relationship she'd built with Nilay. She was fairly certain she was in agreement about the Bailey matriarch and patriarch, too; he and Nilay's parents had welcomed her in warmly since her proper arrival to Blue Harbor. Even with their every kindness and how badly she wanted it to be so, Safiye knew she would never feel that they could replace her parents. No, no. Her parents had a special place, and it was nowhere near her heart—meanwhile the Baileys...the Baileys could find a way. Well, most of them, anyway.

"Of course. Laurel Village. You know, I'm positive she mentioned it but I just couldn't recall. It's been a lot of long nights," she responded defensively, nearly—just nearly—rolling her eyes at his remarks which lacked all subtlety in that moment. "Oh yeah, I just might be." The thought quite honestly terrified her. Save for Theo, everyone in the Bailey band seemed to receive Safiye's presence well, but she had really only encountered them one at a time leading up until now. To have them all in the same room, she feared, would only highlight just how alone she was. Even the in-laws could at least cling to the Bailey that belonged with them. But Safiye? She would just float among them, probably bouncing around to whoever fed her the most conversation at any given time. "Well, due for it, I think is another way to put it, right?" It wasn't that she didn't receive invitations from Nilay but she hadn't exactly felt ready to accept until that moment. Until the one person of the group who seemed to detest her could tolerate to extend that invite, she supposed.

𝐅𝐎𝐑 — @theobailey

[theobailey]

Theo watched as her theatrical, unapologetic rendition of Thank You for the Music filled the bar, stirring up a feeling he hadn’t indulged in years. She sprawled across the bar like she was staging a performance at the Royal Albert Hall instead of a dimly lit pub, and her uninhibited enthusiasm reminded him of his own youthful antics. Back at Cambridge, he’d belted out songs for spare cash in seedy pubs after his dad cut him off following a night that ended with him drunkenly taking out an ancient statue on campus.Theo’s smirk lingered as he watched her reluctantly hand over the mic, her energy still crackling through the room even without it. Her carefree, unapologetic presence had that same intoxicating edge.

“Well, that was quite the show you put on.” He took a sip of his drink, savoring the burn. “Not many people can turn an ABBA karaoke session into a full-blown performance—and I would know. Spent some time singing to bored pub patrons myself, years ago.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly at the memory. “I'm Theo, by the way. But don’t worry, I’m not here to steal the spotlight; I learned my lesson about trying to play the rockstar.” Leaning in slightly, he added with a grin, “Though, if I ever need a stage partner for a dramatic encore, I’ll know I should call... I don't remember hearing your name when they announced it?”

it was a consequence of being an intercontinental party girl: tefi could go into any place in any town and make a spectacle of herself. whether people responded in kind or got annoyed by her antics was up to the individual person, and tefi didn’t really care either way. it was sort of effortless, the way she commanded attention, ever since she was a child. perhaps it was born out of her family’s disinterest in her; if her parents or siblings didn’t want to watch her sing and dance in the living room, she just found a friend down the street that would be enraptured by her rendition of part of your world from the little mermaid. if someone was bothered by her taking over the dance floor at the club or, say, belting out an abba hit as if she was putting on a one-woman show, tefi would just move on and find someone that was entertained.

luckily, the man sitting at the bar was evidently entertained, turning her one-woman show into a duet. tefi grinned encouragingly, head swaying along as he sang the next line. the rest of the bar joined in for the last few bars, so tefi extended her hand into the air so the microphone would capture everyone’s voice as she sang along. in these moments where the alcohol fuzzed up her brain and no one was actively telling her to fuck off, she felt something akin to euphoria. like the karaoke bar wasn’t just a bar, it had turned into valhalla with neon lights and a disco ball spinning up above. that’s what heaven was to her, like the dancing scenes from saturday night fever or boogie nights. where it was the ‘70s forever, and the harsh realities of the world didn’t exist anymore. that was the thing, though. the song always ended, and the neon lights would be turned off in favor of bright overhead lighting. in the end, valhalla would turn back into earth, and tefi would have to go home. “you were brilliant, darling!” tefi exclaimed excitedly. she was mostly just happy someone was willing to play along. the bartender behind her motioned for her to give back the mic, which she did reluctantly. she flashed them a small pout before she turned her attention back to her duet partner. “i’m tefi. i don’t believe we’ve met.”

[theobailey]

Theo’s eyes dropped to the card, studying the image of the family beneath the rainbow with quiet contemplation. It was almost too fitting, too ideal. Harmony, fulfillment—two words he didn’t feel applied to him much, though he supposed fatherhood had changed things. “Beautifully complete…” he murmured, more to himself than to Opal. The words felt both comforting and weighty, as if he was being handed the blueprint to something he’d always been missing but couldn’t quite grasp. "Well, those are cups, right? And cups are meant to hold... wine. Are you sure it doesn't means I'll be a drunken fool and ruin my entire family?"

Looking back up, he smiled, though the grin was a touch more reserved, thoughtful. “Unity. It’s a nice thought, I’ll give you that.” He glanced at the remaining cards, his hand resting on the edge of the table, fingers tapping softly. “Let’s go on, then. I’m curious what else fate has to say for me tonight.” He couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this next card might be a bit closer to home. Something that wasn’t all picture-perfect rainbows, maybe—a little rougher around the edges.

Opal's brow arched as she shuffled her cards, a playful glint in her eye. She'd studied him and his mannerisms from the moment he'd come in, clocking him as something of a skeptic. He might be harder won than some of her other clients, but that was fine. She had always been very good at reading people's desires. And this guy just seemed to want affirmations that he was doing things right, not a card to tell him what to do. She could do that.

“Ah, family, fatherhood, and a proposal. Going straight for the big ones, aren’t we?” She smirked, but her hands moved with a practiced grace, dealing out three cards and turning them face down, one by one, with a hint of ceremony.

She held his gaze, her expression unreadable as she flipped the first card. The Ten of Cups revealed itself, the image of a family basking in a rainbow of cups above them. Perfect. Even without actually knowing much about tarot, this card felt like a gift. Ten of Cups, Ten of Cups, what did she remember about Ten of Cups? "Well, now," Opal said, letting a hint of intrigue slip into her tone. "This is a powerful card for family. It speaks of harmony and emotional fulfillment. If you’re looking for signs of fatherhood— your role as a father, your relationship with your own— it’s saying you’re on a path to bring that unity and happiness full circle. There’s something… beautifully complete about it."

She eyed him carefully, trying to gauge his reactions and filter out if she was giving him what he wanted. She smiled pleasantly, invitingly. "Are you ready for the next card? Or do you wanna sit in this one for a minute?"

[theobailey]

Theo’s eyes narrowed, a glimmer of something sardonic slipping back into his expression as Safiye’s words landed. There was no mistaking the tension in her voice, and he couldn’t help the faint flicker of satisfaction—until her words hit him with an unexpected sting. “Since I'm not a Bailey, after all.” A jab, however civil. The line made him flinch, a flash of guilt breaking through his carefully crafted reserve. It wasn’t that he saw Safiye as an outsider, exactly. But Nilay had been his sister, his partner in this wild, chaotic family, for so long that he wasn’t sure how to adjust to sharing her with someone else. He tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, no, not by name,” he replied smoothly. “But I suppose we’re all working with the family we’re given, aren’t we?”

He folded his arms, leaning back with casual nonchalance, although the slight arch of his eyebrow betrayed him. “Nilay’s brilliant, as you know, so I’m sure you’ll eventually find that rhythm you’re after.” There was a hint of a challenge in his tone, though he softened it with a casual shrug. “Takes a bit of time to learn how to navigate it all. I’d be…patient.” He couldn’t help himself—something about her presence made him defensive. When she accepted the invitation, his smirk grew ever so slightly. “Oh, I’m sure my parents will be thrilled,” he said, his voice laced with polite irony. Although it was a bit unfair--his parents did like Safiye. But he couldn't have her stealing them too, could he? Let her doubt their appreciation for a little bit. “They have managed to make it their home. As they always do around the world." He just meant it wasn't that special. Theo sort of hated himself a little bit for sounding like that. Dylan certainly wouldn't approve. Nor the sister they were fighting for. "Perhaps you'll get a glimpse into all our charming little Bailey quirks.” He paused, then raised an eyebrow. “Laurel Village, where else? Nilay didn't tell you?" he added, his tone blurring the line between sincere and smug. "Well, surely you're ready for a... full family reunion by now."

It was a nice reminder to her that Theo was a new father, like there was something the guy was still just learning how to do. Honestly, when Dylan had first made mention of the house Theo was building for them, it all sounded so The Notebook of them. Utterly romantic. Which, caught Safiye by surprise, because she didn't quite take the man for being one for grand gestures of romance. She had to think that there were many redeeming qualities about him, if he had both Dylan and Nilay in his corner. And yet, he just said things so...unsettling to Safiye, which as if on cue, he immediately went onto proving her point about.

Her jaw clenched on its own, as she practically seethed over the words that left his mouth next. It was just like him to choose such a careful selection of patronizing words; he was making such a great case for why she was not his biggest fan. Anything but subtle with his condescension. Safiye fought every instinct to immediately roll her eyes at him and bite back with something a little more colorful. "Oh, not at all.." She quickly decided that the only way she could combat his contempt was by leaning straight into every blade of insult that had been so perfectly templated for her. "Since I'm not a Bailey, after all. It's kind of nice, building this new frame of what the family Nilay and I share looks like. Feels natural." Her voice maintained itself in its same polite tone, though she was well aware of the potential effects of what she said. Okay, she felt a little bad for saying it. Theo might not have felt an ounce of remorse over his choice words but that simply wasn't who Safiye was. "I'm sure growing up with her, you know her a lot better than I do, though. I'm still finding my rhythm in her life, really," she added quickly, hoping it added some cushion to the fall.

It felt so odd and foreign for Theo to bother inviting her to something. But then, she thought it was mostly because he was aware he could spend most of the time pointing out all of the things Safiye would have known, had she been in Nilay's life longer. Maybe he thought he'd twist the knife of showing a home that resembled so much more meaning and memory than she believed she ever could. "I would love to," she accepted, though unease followed her thereafter, "To both. The château in the works and your parents' home. Where are they again?" Surely, Nilay had mentioned it in passing but Safiye's recollection of the many crash courses they'd shared with each other was just unreliable. And naturally, she was half-expecting Theo to say something smart about it, forecasting that he'd be 'surprised Nilay never brought it up.'

𝐅𝐎𝐑: @theobailey