thiago "tigs" sousa, 22, second year, undecided. C'MON YOU KNOW
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trinibarraâ:
Itâs kind of weird like that, how ambition to best someone involves impressing them, too. Heads says where thereâs disappointment thereâs expectation. Tails says where thereâs disappointment thereâs gratification. Call it in the air. âYouâd like that, wouldnât you?â Trinityâs nose scrunches with sarcasm, hard to believe theyâve been at this for months and heâs still got no shame in his furry kink. Sickening. Trinity scoffs, âI get stood up about as much as you get asked out.â Which she presumes is not at all. âYou made it thoughâso weâre still at 0.â She adds, on the very off chance someoneâs tried to seduce him in place of drug money. She eyes him getting comfortable. Wonders why he canât stand normally, like he canât tell if heâs staying or leaving. Doesnât know which she prefers. Even standing straight in her boots sheâs much shorter, so his lean helps a little. âHad me for a second there but one wife was scary enough, threeâs just unrealistic.â Trinity shrugs carelessly with a smirk. She can see the bartender look at them and then away, which normally would piss her off, but she kinda likes it, itâs fucking funny. Technically the bartender is ignoring him. âWow, youâre likeâreally good at commanding a room, yeah? You ever actually drink when you go out?â Not at this rate, she thinks. Trinity chokes on a laugh when theyâre ignored again. Figures her pretty belt might as well be good for something. She sighs and plops her little red bag on the bar top, stripping her leather trench coat off her shoulders slowly and outstretching an arm to wave. âHellooooo.â Her smileâs wide, voice as obnoxious as ever, but homeboy is coming over âcause the titties are out. âHello, hi! Hi. Soooo sorry about this one here, heâs a little, woo-hoo.â She whistles, circles her finger by her head. âAnyway, yâall got vodka, right?â Trinity turns to Tigs, leans a little as if the bartender canât still hear them, âGave you the chance to pick my poison, coulda had me killed. Shame.â She clicks her tongue. Canât say she never did anything for him. She turns back to the bartender, name tag reads Guy. âGuy. Very cute, real modern.â Mother doesnât love him. âTop shelf only. We doing shots.âÂ
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â easy. bit too early in the fuckinâ night to find out what we like, init? â but apparently not early enough for her little nose scrunch to make him pause, frown and take a second to figure out whether he liked it or not. features pinch with a hint of surprise all the same, kind of like when you realise youâve gotten used to a bad smell. â so, ya donât get asked out either? â since thatâs the only way the count would be at zero, but he doesnât trust anyone at gallagher to make any good decisions. exhibit a: he made it to the bar. â and the fuckinâ pricks you pay to carry your books around donât fuckinâ count. â he scoffs in a way he usually does whenever she says something funny, in replace of a laugh and trying to hide his smirk. â donât worry, iâll secure a fourth and send you an invite. make sure you catch that bouquet and all since ya need all the fuckinâ luck you can get. â little does he know sheâs going to have twenty odd men publicly putting themselves forward to be her potential husband. horrifying. eyes on the bartender, he grumbles, â not really used to bartenders who donât tend the fuckinâ bar. â he hears the smile in her voice before he sees it, though his face takes the first hit. the surprise spreads and twists his features with confusion, though the deep grimace makes him look disturbed more than anything. he had the same look on his face when devon played him that disney girlâs version of smells like teen spirit -- a bad cover of a good song. a few seconds pass. the dickhead, who practically ran over, now stands in front of them and tigs is threatening him with a glare thatâs too rude to be put into words. then she speaks again, and this time it makes his head turn slowly, almost cautiously, towards her. just in time to catch her calling him woo-hoo. unfortunately, he breaks out into laughter at that, hanging his head in defeat as she talks to him. guy? mother doesnât love him. cunt. â and a rum and coke -- triple -- and your cheapest scotch for this one, â he adds, nodding towards trinity. guy doesnât look impressed, and starts pouring the shots in front of them. since guy doesnât want to leave, tigs turns to trinity, deadpan as he picks up one of the shots. â wait- you allowed to drink with your haemorrhoids meds? â
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rubymeriwetherâ:
Waiting for him to follow first, Agent Hughesâ expression doesnât move; her job is not to react until necessary, though if she could, there might be an eye-roll for him. Ruby gives him that instead, annoyed beyond belief that heâs really going to have a smoke right now. âYou can spare me another tired rendition of how much of an ass you really are, Tigs, I donât need confirmation that you donât feel remorse,â Ruby spits back, having come to that conclusion herself, unfair or not. âWhat I want is to know everything you know. Who contacted you first, how you found Ophelia, when exactly you told my father. I want to hear it from you,â she demands. Sheâs never been one to exude authority or have the first idea how to take on her title in a position of power. But without meaning to, Ruby begins to adopt the commandeering nature of her father, piercing eyes and strong determination. âSo start talking.â A couple steps to her right, Hughes holds back a small smile.
tigs never thought ruby had it in her. the slow quirk of the lips is only because he doesnât mind being wrong if he gets to enjoy it. how could he not? when the way she holds onto his gaze feels like sheâs digging her claws into him. â snappy -- i like it. â this isnât the ruby heâs used to, but heâs used to these kind of conversations, so heâll meet her gaze with ease, even if that means heâll end up bleeding out, in a half-hearted attempt to match her energy. â didnât realise you liked the sound of my voice so much. â he doesnât think sheâs entitled to his confession, never mind the details. if they were friends, heâd consider it. but theyâre not, so heâll enjoy his cigarette. he takes a long drag, one that burns a little, before slowly casting his eyes heavenward and blowing the smoke towards the clouds. â god, â he offers an answer to her first question, landing his eyes onto her again, â my laptop and ... sometime after one direction split up. â he shrugs, then glances over at hughes. â whatâs the plan, mate? you gonna shoot me or arrest me? ainât got all day, you see. â
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trinibarraâ:
Trinity doesnât get how someone could not care if they fade to the background, if theyâre unimportant, and her honest confusion shows. Sheâs not sure if heâs leaning into the drag or he really means it, really doesnât care who cares about him. She doesnât know whether to pity him or envy him, so she dismisses him. âGood, then you wonât be disappointed.â Trinityâs head tilts slowly, knows him to try a little harder at hiding his smirks, amusement in the way her shoulders bounce when she scoffs. âWoulda had one if you wasnât a thief.â Sheâs still got her own curiosities and sheâd consider a trade if she wasnât trying so hard to best him. âBut thatâs more your styleâŚâ Almost adds his name to the end on instinct but she holds onto it, decides to save it for later. Thereâs something uncomfortably satisfying about catching his grin when she turns back, like sheâs in the lead, but it doesnât stop her from considering he might bounce. If anyone was gonna flip the switch on her, itâd probably be him. Aloof as she taps her manicure on the bar, âTook your time.â God forbid she has to wait a few seconds. Tilts her chin just a smidge to catch him, lips pouting âcause she knows she canât order a fruity drink in front of this raggedy asshole and keep her pride. He asks what her poison is, what might drive her to an early grave, and she considers sheâs looking at it but sheâs not going to give him that kind of power. âBar was your idea, surprise me.â Doesnât think heâll manage to do it again. âUnless youâre one of those 50 year old men who sip on an inch of scotch and pretend itâs not nasty.â Regine, basically.Â
good? thereâs an imperceptible twitch of the brows. where thereâs disappointment, thereâs also ... well, he doesnât want to flip that coin onto itâs head. she hasnât disappointed him. he knows he hasnât disappointed her either. yet. someone has to walk away with the belts, though disappointment doesnât fall under pretty or not-dumb. if they keep adding belts, where does it end? â still plenty of time to send ya off with ya tail between ya legs. â considering this might be the last time they talk, he is planning on returning the tail to itâs rightful owner. just waiting for the right moment. not because he has morals or anything. thereâs a light scoff of amusement as he arrives at the bar. maybe he borrowed paulâs notes after all. â get stood up a lot, donât ya? â he retorts after a beat. she pouts, he frowns. shifts his weight onto his forearm leaning against the bar, other hand in his pocket, slightly hunched over, but turned towards her. can never stand normally, unable to tell whether heâs staying or leaving. â lifeâs fuckinâ hard when youâre three marriages in and your wifeâs fuckinâ the pool boy. â the bartenderâs taking a stupidly long time, considering the only other two people at the bar just left, one of them double parked. briefly looks over his shoulder, didnât realise bash was seeing someone. they look cosy. only notices how close heâs standing to her until he looks at her again, which isnât anything new, but the nightâs still young, so heâll use waving the bartender down as a way to create some distance. â oi-- â he calls out to the bartender, who apparently refuses to serve this side of the bar, â --some time tonight would be nice. â
#trinibarra#i thought this was gna be short bc#transitioning to bar but#idk what happened tbh#bt i did cut it#enter en pee see number 3
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â but you are a single lady, â he tilts his head to the side, giving him the once-over, then juts his thumb behind him towards the stage, â and sheâs fuckinâ callinâ for ya. â
@gallagherstartââ
â for the last time . . NO ,  i donât know the single ladies dance .  â
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vohrasâ:ââ
Kat snorts. âThink theyâll even make it out the door?â
he grimaces. â if they ever stop fuckinâ cryinâ, yeah. âÂ
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swiiftbladcsâ:
     â next year, iâll get you on the dance floor. â  itâs a promise sheâll make sure to keep. and while she canât wait to revisit it, sheâs quick to come back and enjoy the moment right now, following him outside. places  her  free  hand  on  his  shoulder,  lifts  the  hand  sheâs  holding  his  with.  the  song  doesnât  exactly  call  for  a  slow  type  of  dance,  but  the  conversation  does.  â  i wanted to say thank you, for this year. â Â
maybe heâll allow it in their final year, if they both make it. a knowing smirk comes before he relents and places a hand on her waist. â what are you talkinâ about, â he mutters under a low chuckle, which sounds half like a groan, in an attempt to brush past it. doesnât think heâs done anything worthy of her gratitude, especially one that sounds so sincere. â too much to drink? â
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natemercerâ:
âfallonâs going to see what she can do.â nateâs not really sure what exactly that means on her end, doesnât really care about the details if it works. âjust a possibility. not a definite.â
â fallonâs gonna see what she can do, â he repeats with a slow nod. no idea what that means but itâs not important. â didnât fancy includinâ ai in your little deal? â
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julixneatonâ:
If it were anyone else saying that, Julian would be affected by it, but because itâs Tigs, he remains neutral and stoic. âYouâre full of jokes tonight, huh?â He moves to wipe his hands.
â who, me? never. blackmailâs a serious fuckinâ matter, mate, â he deadpans, pausing to place his hands on the edge of the sink as the tap continues to run. â youâre the joke tonight, arenât ya? saint -- very funny. âÂ
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trinibarraâ:
âComing from someone who doesnât even make the credits.â He keeps popping up in her screen time and she still never cuts the scene short, so maybe sheâs giving him too much credit. Yikes. âMorals, debatable. But graceâŚâ She tilts her head, the curls around her forehead swaying, like she doesnât even have to defend it. But sheâs going to, or sheâd planned to, till he leans in to check her pupils like a freak. Her brows knit unamused, but she doesnât pull back, scanning his face like she can calculate if heâs up to something. Like if he was, she would know. âAinât interested in what youâre selling.â Tigs gives off raggedy drug dealer vibes. She doesnât realize he is a raggedy drug dealer. âYou donât like my outfit?â She asks rhetorically, tips her toe out like sheâs showing it off. âAbuelita picked it out.â Abuelita would kill her if she saw how short that dress is. âWouldnât come to a party without it.â Sheâs pretty sure a nappy is a diaper now, but sheâs practicing the new rules he set in place, the leaning into it. Trinity is like 95% sure heâs testing her pretty belt and her not-dumb belt at the same time, so sheâs quiet as she considers it, then feels stupid for even considering it. But sheâll bite, figures heâs upping the stakes, changing the rules and sheâll be damned if it seems like she canât keep up. She takes a few steps backwards, turning to head in the direction of the bar wordlessly, the clicking of her boots circling to face him again once sheâs a few feet away. âOh, you meant with you?â A pause, slow knowing smirk on her lips before she finishes leading the way.Â
â donât need it. â doesnât care to be the main character, no interest in reaching the ending credits. his, hers, or anyone elseâs. she gives the impression that she needs her name popping up in the corner every time sheâs on screen, like a reality tv show. he likes to think heâll change the channel, but something seems to be wrong with the remote. â and i donât mix business with, â he thinks for a moment, then finally decides on, â displeasure. â heâd ignored it the first time, and itâs harder to do when she does it again, the way she says abuelita and how it touches on his curiosity. thereâs a light crease in his brows, unable to separate the person from the outfit, so his lips curl into a smirk. â think itâs missinâ a tiggerâs tail. â itâs sitting in his jacket pocket for undisclosed reasons. when she turns around, sheâs met with a growing smirk, knowing she was going to say something but being a second or two off, and it remains even as she walks away again. but sheâs still unpredictable enough to force him to reconsider his moves. thinks itâd be funny if he left her there, but thereâs the risk of not catching her before the nightâs over and it wouldnât be as satisfying if he missed her reaction. as if itâd be a disserve to the both of them to leave things unfinished. he joins her by the bar, looking like a couple of besties, but at least they didnât walk over together. â got here in the end -- whatâs your poison? â
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oofchrisâ:
â âŚâŚ so , you do wanna trade ? â
â no point -- youâre not pullinâ either way. â
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nurdirimâ:
âOh. They are both first year siblings. They are Spanish, too. Ricky in Driverâs Ed and Estherâs in AE and R&D. They are very nice people!â she clarifies, though that might not really help Tigs. She doesnât know why, but she smiles when he glances at his watch. âIt is nice. Very Tigs.â She nods as if she got the exact point she wanted to deliver. Her brows furrow when he says he doesnât care about the drinks and snacks. âOh.â But then she smiles again, obvious whatâs coming next is a teasing statement. âI thought you would like gold macaroons or cupcakes with angel wings on them.â Her eyes widen slightly. âI will not throw a drink on you! It will ruin a nice shirt.â Tone indicates that whatever heâs saying it totally ridiculous. âThough I do like red wine. To drink, of course, not to throw at people,â she clarifies. His next question is a loaded one and she has to pause for a moment. âBecause it is nice to feel like you belong, as opposed to being an outsider,â she answers genuinely, looking ahead for a moment, not minding Tigs knowing that layer to her personality. Surely the topic began as a joke about blending in with the gardens, but itâs obvious from her answer it is not about that anymore.Â
â not just nice but very nice, must be special, â he says maybe a little too sarcastically but thatâs only because he doesnât really care about ricky in driverâs ed and esther in ae and r&d. especially since theyâre not coming back next year. â nate might not be cominâ back either, but he ainât that nice. â features pinch with amusement at her words. â what does that mean? very tigs. â doesnât think heâs ever been used as an adjective before, especially not in regards to something as flashy as this watch that heâs planning on selling when he goes back to dc. â did ya make âem? â he could probably give a bit of a fuck about the drinks and the snacks if she did, but if heâs being honest he doesnât understand why a party planning committee is necessary. there are better things to do with a budget like that. â not even a sprinkle? could jazz it up a bit -- some red, some blue, â he teases, mirroring the tone she uses when she starts banging on about colours of the rainbow. he thinks about her answer for a moment -- it hasnât been something heâd thought about for a long time. trying to fit in had only gotten him into trouble. â does it really matter? as long as your yourself, who fuckinâ cares. â
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rainafmsâ:
   raina follows, looking down at his boots before shaking her head. âi think we might be out of luck,â she says shrugging a shoulder. âthough i do think these heels would go great with your outfit.â
â yeah, theyâd bring out the colour of my ... eyes, â he says flatly, unsure of why people actually wear heels in the first place. lifts his gaze to meet hers, but notes thereâs a lot of leg on show. nice. â graduatinâ tomorrow? â
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rubymeriwetherâ:
The way he responds to her, voice dripping with incredulity only sets her more on edge and Ruby lets out a small simmering breath. âYouâre laughing right now?â she asks, voice low and dry and probably far angrier than heâd ever seen her, which isnât hard to achieve. She walks briskly past him, heading towards the nearest door if only because sheâd rather avoid too many nosy glances and not because she cares whether or not he needs a smoke. Her Agentâ Hughesâ hangs back for a second, waiting on Tigsâ with a look that says âAfter youâ, and when he finally meets her outside, Ruby sets her sights on him again, eyes narrowed. âHow much did he pay you?â
thereâs only one person in the world that can make him flinch. besides that, nothing else rattles him. heâll look straight down the barrel of a gun with the same jaded expression and challenge them to pull the trigger. rubyâs not a gun, but she is a gallagher girl. the laughter comes easily regardless. â i think sheâs angry, â he drawls as he steps past hughes ( rip legend ). once heâs outside, he takes his time lighting his cigarette before answering her question. â does it matter? i donât do refunds. â he thinks this is information she could get from her father since theyâre being honest with each other now. â alright, look, iâll cut to the fuckinâ chase, yeah? not sure what you were fuckinâ hopinâ to get out of this, but iâm not sorry for what i did and iâd probably do it again. â
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marifervalvâ:
Itâs not really surprising that Tigs isnât a Beyonce stan and for the sake of continuing to find him attractive sheâll pretend she didnât hear it. âIâm sure you and I could think of plenty to do that would keep her entertained.â Or at least a little jealous.Â
marifer being so forward will never not make him grin. â she would be the perfect voyeur. â because sheâs a ghost so no one will ever catch her. what a little pervert. â should at least make it hard for her to find us. â
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riaflickeâ:
âWhy do you hate me, Tigs?â Easily let go of the shot, glad to get it out of her hands. The smell alone of whiskey made her stomach churn. âBut not tonight. Iâm better. Iâm fixed.â Yeah, sure she was. âAre you proud of me?â
â see this. â he points to a tiny drop of alcohol on the bar, turns to her with a blank expression, eyes glazed over. â could easily give more of a fuck about this than you. â
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summrsfmâ:
     â and youâre still talking ,  unfortunate that your ears donât work anymore . â Â
â didnât fuckinâ catch that-- â he points to his ear, â --youâre gettinâ yourself a drink? iâll have a rum and coke, then. cheers. â
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yaragaleâ:
âew, fuck no. itâs casual, think pool party.â thatâs kind of literally what it is, and her stepdadâs gonna be very white dad at a barbecue about it all. âgood question,â she says with a sharp exhale, because she hasnât thought much about it, too busy socializing tonight. âexcited, mostly. relieved, though i donât know if i would have felt relief if that burn book shit hadnât have happened.â that whole thing had taken a part of her experience at gallagher permanently. âfuck diets.â
â decent stuff. we gettinâ those fancy burgers? â what her mum has planned is probably very different to the kind of pool parties heâs used to, and he can count on one hand when heâs been on his best behaviour. this will just have to be one of those times. â you speak to him? â cole, he means. and heâs still walking, albeit barely, which means she probably hasnât done anything more than that. tigs is waiting patiently for his turn, but heâll go after yara. â you can say that âcause youâve got fuckinâ nandos in dc. â
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