g-acostas

[g-acostas]

E. STONE

Liz couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes when Gabriel started to explain the use of a grocery store. She knew that she still hadn’t a reason on why he hadn’t been here for a long time but if she knew one thing, it was that this was meant as a way to throw her off. And she was going to let him do that. At least for now. Maybe at a later point this day she would be able to find some answers on how he has been doing but experience told her that she was going to have a lot more by looking at his non-verbal communication than the actual words he would be saying. She had learned how to read Gabriel by now and she had becom rather good at it as well. There was something mysterious about him and that was probably what made her want to know more about what was going through his head most of the time. “Oh, I do know what a grocery store is. But you should also know by now - because I’m pretty sure I’ve told you before - that I am not the best cook. As in… The easier a thing is to cook, the better.” To even be more exact; if it could be prepared by just turning on the oven and keeping an eye on it, it was probably the best. “And don’t tell me you haven’t missed me either.”

There was no denying that Gabe’s job was one that you would only do if you weren’t that easily scared in this town. The motorcycle club that was a big influence in town and the high level of criminality probably also didn’t help if you were a part of the police force. “You know, there are things like ‘days off’. You could probably use one if you are as tired as you look.” Her voice was careful, she didn’t want to offend him or insult him by trying to tell him that he needed to look after himself as well, because that was basically what she was doing. “Just two days to catch up on some sleep, to relax a little. I mean, I don’t think that in two days all hell will break loose, right?” The moment Liz said the words, she knew that in a town like Olympus, hell definitely would be able to open up in just two days but she wasn’t going to voice those words out loud because they were not going to help her case here. “It is my job, it would be bad if I didn’t like what I was doing. I mean, even though your job is a hard one, I’m sure you are doing it because you at least like a bit of it?” She asked him, her eyes for a moment focused on the man in front of her, before she lowered her gaze again so she could take a bit of the food before all the heated things would get too cold. Although she did look up for just a moment when he told her that she looked good. A smile formed on her lips, trying to stop herself from forming a slight blush on her cheeks. “Thank you.”

“Like that is such a bad thing for the night. I would nearly think that you would dislike it to spend the time trading dishes with me,” Liz pointed out to Gabe, before she took another bite from her food. Another eyeroll followed when he pinted out that he could not look into the future. He must have understood that she had meant his plans for the night. And indeed, those did follow after. “So you finally have a free night that you can use for an early night of sleep?” She asked him, a chuckle leaving her as she referenced to what she had said earlier. For a moment Liz stayed quiet, before voicing the question that was on her mind. “Do you think we will ever meet outside this establishment?”

The idea that Elizabeth was anything less than an admirable cook, was amusing to him. They’d yet to share a meal outside of the diner, so it wasn’t unusual for him to have not known that she in fact couldn’t cook — but it wasn’t what he had previously assumed ( on the occasion that he did think of her, and all the bits and pieces of which he enjoyed about her ). She had always been someone who gave, and was happy to look after those in need of care, nurturing — a past time that reminded him of the kind of women one might marry, build a home with, start a family... He wasn’t particularly sure what the ability to cook had to do with those qualities, but he could guess it had something to do with the family meals he could remember his own mother manifesting prior to her untimely disappearance and demise. To know now that Elizabeth was almost the complete opposite of what he’d envisioned, brought on an odd sense of relief. Almost as though he was happy to know she wasn’t as perfectly stitched together as she portrayed either — they were both human, both riddled with faults that neither of them seemed to mind ( if they had noticed ). And he quite liked the image of Elizabeth struggling over a stove, or covered in flour, having realized she’d used salt instead of sugar in the cake mix before her — liked it enough to have to fend off a laugh that was threatening to burst out of his lips. “I don’t believe I recall those sentiments exactly, but I am most certainly aware now,” Compromising a laugh for a light chuckle, he went about taking a bite of the sausage he’d nearly began to forget on his fork, as his thoughts had trailed and drifted. His jaw flexed and clenched as he chewed, giving her a once over through gladden eyes, before he swallowed at her implication. Of course he’d missed her — though he had felt out of sorts whenever the blonde managed to cross his mind. Almost as though he didn’t have a right to be thinking of her in such ways, or any way at all outside of the separate world they’d created within squeaky booths, and checkered floors. “You’re not wrong,” He grinned, shaking his head to look down at his plate. “Maybe my week would have gone better, had I seen you sooner.”

The week — like most weeks, had been difficult to wade through, but only in the sense that he was physically in need of a pause. He’d long ago since adapted to the motions of being a mole, all while trying to maintain the status of an honorable lawman in the face of the community. So, it wasn’t too straining on his mind to interact with both sides, so much as it was draining to have to constantly be on the move. Even when he was off duty, in retrospect, he still had a job to do. Late nights weren’t always spent at the station, rather elsewhere — places that Elizabeth probably frequented as much as she did the grocery store apparently. It didn’t need to be said that there would be no good that came from actually ever letting Elizabeth fully in. No matter if she cared, and no matter if she noticed things that a person he needed beside him in life to notice. She was as innocent as the people he was doing his best to protect, and it made him no better than his own father to drag her into the dark truths of the world he laid before him. Still, he knew that over time her questions would only press further into the depths, and if he wasn’t too careful, she just might tread far enough to find what she was looking for. “Yeah, well, tell that to the Sheriff.” he huffed, popping the rest of the sausage in his mouth and allowing the fork to gentle clatter back against his plate. “Hell has been loose for quite some time around here, and unfortunately, there’s always a lot to be done, to do what we can — to keep it at bay.” Or keep it hidden, he thought to himself. “My instincts don’t necessarily allow for me to ever turn it off...y’know? Even when I’m at home, if I hear something — if I get a call, I’m there.” Shrugging, he never realized how much of a martyr the description made him out to be until he said the words aloud. The roles that he played were much more sinister then that title conveyed. “I figured at this point, it just comes with the territory.” Even though he rarely tended to stay within the boundary lines. He scooped his mug up, considering her following perspective, and appreciating the slight aversion to his own condition, before he took a long sip. “That’s fair. I can’t say I hate what I do, as grueling as the days can be...” And he didn’t — hate it, that is. But he certainly wasn’t thrilled to be such a figure sometimes. At best, he tolerated it, and did what he could to keep his own demons down when they threatened to arise. Blinking, he lowered his mug back atop the table, before summoning a smile to his face, watching carefully as her cheeks nearly turned a hue of pink. “You’re welcome.”

“I finally have a free night, yes,” He nodded, not having really gotten that suggestion before. Usually, when most heard he had time off, there were invitations of bar visits, nights out on the town. But rarely ever cared to actually consider that he might be in need of the night of rest. Granted, he wasn’t one to shy away from a night spent within one of the hole in the wall bars that both the department and the MC frequented alike — so he didn’t blame most for assuming he’d be down for the ride, but at the same time he felt almost grateful for Elizabeth’s differing approach. Still, he could feel the flicker of a faint idea building in the back of his mind, one that he almost felt tempted to voice. Lifting a brow, her following question almost melded perfectly with his own prospect of what the night ahead could possibly offer, ideas growing a bit clearer. “We could...if the opportunity presented itself,” Weighing the options he planted his elbows on the table before him as he leaned forward an inch. “I wouldn’t s’pose you’ve got a night off as well?”

#( › e. stone )

[g-acostas]

I. ROJAS

❀

Making a face at the idea of being an auctioneer, considering the people that usually held that position— at least who she thought of which was a middle-aged white man who wore a cowboy hat or was just balding— or both. She figured she’d pass. “I’d end up distracting people with how hot I’d look in a cowgirl hat,” she jokes, with a smirk. Maybe not everyone held that prejudice against auctioneer but everyone would have to admit she’d look cute as Hell in that ten-gallon hat. Izzy grabs her drink and sips on the small straw before sitting the glass on the bar again. “Not too far, you know I can’t stay away from you,” she teases. “I’m just getting myself a roommate instead of living alone— don’t worry. It’s just fucking shit living alone and I don’t even know how I’ve done it this long. I literally hate it. But anyways, I’m moving in with Ryder so if you’re planning on taking me home any time soon, it might have to be your place,” Izzy adds. She’s always been one to flirt and considering Gabe lets her, she figures why not milk that for all it’s worth. If anything, it’s fun to see him laugh at her. “Either way, it’s going to be way better and now I have a dog too,” she tells him, although, in all honesty, it’s Ryder’s dog. “Well like kinda. She’s not really my dog. Close enough. — So what are you doing here? Keeping yourself out of too much trouble now after a long, hard day of arresting the bad guys?” she asks. However, in the back of her head, there’s a little bit of unease when she thinks about it. Gabriel could be the one to arrest her friends in the Club and while she’s no longer an Old Lady— she still holds those ties close to her.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but on the flip side, I’m sure you’d get a lot of business.” Gabriel weighed the idea loosely, the humor that had masked his previous thought still evident. It was so like her to consider the aesthetic appeal of the job title, rather than the fact the pace at which she managed to speak at times, would be fitting for the task expected of her. His thoughts didn’t hover over the specifics for much longer, however, as they both knew it was nothing more than a shot in the dark, meant to evoke amusement — never to be actually considered. Watching as she took a sip of her drink, he remembered his own, which had only briefly been forgotten in the midst of their tangent. He pulled the glass up to his lips, taking a decent gulp, and doing his best to focus on the words that fell from her lips over the vibration of the music pooling from the surrounding speakers. Being that Gabriel had moved to Olympus under the circumstances he had, and the fact that he still felt as though he was learning new things about the town twelve years later — he’d done what he could to not get too attached to anyone person, or thing. It was a natural instinct, acquired from years of being forced to let go of or say goodbye to anything he’d ever allowed himself to really give half a shit about. Which is why, should Izzy have said she was ditching the town for newer horizons, he wouldn’t have blamed her — and he hardly might’ve reacted, outside of the casual congratulatory phrases. 

But, he could admit that he was a bit relieved to know that she wouldn’t be going anywhere too far — whether he reasoning genuinely include her inability to keep her distance from him or not. She’d grown to be somewhat of a highlight in his day whenever their paths crossed, and he couldn’t help but feel as though the social experience that existed within Olympus would have been a lot more boring without her. “I can’t say I’m disappointed,” was all he’d initially had to offer, enjoying the chance to watch her scowl at the prospect of him not finding her to be a complete necessity in his life. Though, at her mention of Ryder, he felt a sense of curiosity wash over him. The kind that question why exactly the brunette would have found solace with the Aeron man of all people. Granted, he knew that Ryder was connected to the MC, and thereby, it would have made sense for Izzy and himself to cross paths, what with the known connection she’d had to the club. But from the outside looking in, it was an intriguing combination — one he hadn’t foreseen prior to her reveal. “Dutifully noted, — I’ll be sure to throw pebbles at the window, and ask for you to let down your long hair,” He found it within himself to smirk, quickly concealing any sense of confusion. “A dog is always a plus,” clearing his throat his eyes found the center of his glass. “Didn’t arrest too many bad guys, no,” Gabriel gave one final shake of his head, looking back up to meet her gaze. “But the day was long. and I really needed a drink.”

#( › i. rojas )

[g-acostas]

A. GILLENKERK

“Working at a restaurant isn’t for everybody, truly. I just so happened to luck out since my family owns this place,” she admitted. Her mother had worked a number of odd end jobs in her youth, anything to support the two of them while she was a single parent. They ranged from shitty diners, bars, gas stations, and the like. “Yeah, it seems like people aren’t real big on blackberry flavored stuff? Anything that’s strawberry, cherry, apple, that sells like hot cakes,” she explained as she went to grab four turnovers for the man, packaging them. “That’ll be ten dollars even, please.”

“Yeah, I tried to work in the restaurant business a couple years back,” His mind trailed to memories back in New Orleans, when he’d been desperate for a job and had taken just about anything that would put a couple of bills in his pockets. “I would definitely say, it’s not for the faint of heart — especially, considering the unpredictability of the customers you might get each day..” In haling deeply, he began to slide out his wallet, eyes marking how much he’d had in cash, before deciding he’d just use his card when it came time to pay. “See, I was never too big a fan of strawberries...cherries, I may be able to get behind, and apples are best in pies,” Gabriel lifted a single finger, a knowing grin evident on his face. “But there’s just always been somethin’ about blackberries to me...” Allowing his hand to fall he gave a loose shrug, and then pulled out his credit card with one swift motion, his arm reaching slightly over the counter as he held it out to her. “Have you ever had one?” Finding himself curious, his eyes drifted from the bag in her hand, to meet her eyes once more.

#( › a. gillenkerk )

[g-acostas]

Do you ever wanna settle down?

“If you’re talkin’ a wife and kids, no. Besides... I’ve never really liked that word — settling. And I damn sure have no business procreating. Pero, quien sabe? Anything could happen, I guess.”

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

do you believe in fate? why or why not?

“Perhaps. But, I’d like to believe we have a bit more say in the matter, then a path already decided.”

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

E. STONE

A busy guy… Yeah, Liz could understand that as part of the police force in a town like Olympus. But even busy guys needed to eat and she knew that this was always the destination for him to have food. So as she had missed him quite a few times for having lunch here or dinner… It had to be more than just being busy. So it was no surprise that a scoff left the blonde’s lips as she crossed her arms in front of her, leaning on the table in the process. “You are not just a busy guy, mister Acostas. Even busy men need food and you haven’t been here in a while. Or at least not that I know of,” she said with a chukcle to him before leaning back in her seat again, relaxing as she waited for her food to be brought and also so she could watch the man sitting in front of her better.

It didn’t take long for her English breakfast to arrive, together with the cup of coffee she had ordered. The blonde grabbed the pepper and salt set that was standing on the table before tucking into her food. After she had taken a bite of the eggs, she focused on Gabriel again, silently listening to his words. “And how have the days been treating you for the past week? You look tired,” she pointed out to him. Liz was known to worry about others instead of her own wellbeing and worrying about him was no difference. She would definitely count Gabriel as her friend, and she looked after her friends, even if there was some kind of invisible barrier between the two of them… One that hid so many things about his man that she still did not know about. She couldn’t help but chuckle when he started about the kids at her work. “They are okay. Some of them do but I’ll manage. It just fun to hang out with those kids.” To keep children busy… It was something that she loved doing, looking after them and making sure that they were occupied until their parents were ready to come and pick them up again. “No headaches so far this week from the kiddo’s, so I’m definitely good.”

The blonde moved her fork to one of the sausages on her own plate and moved it to Gabriel’s. “Here you go, because I took yours it’s only fair to give one back,” she said with a chuckle to him before picking up the toast that was on her plate, taking a bite of it. “Any fun plans for the future?”

Gabriel wasn’t used to people necessarily inquiring about his well-being, let alone anyone who noticed such things as to whether or not he’d had a meal, or slept properly. But even still, the concern for which Elizabeth displayed had come as no surprise to him. She’d been that way from their first meeting to now, always being the first to pick up on his change in demeanor, the exhaustion set in his shoulders, the circles marking the bags under his eyes. Ironically, he himself tended to forget, even though he spent quite the amount of time in the mirror each morning, examining the scars that made the dangerous nature of his world to appear more evident then he perhaps liked. He did well to cover up the more telling of blue and black splotches, and the stitches that took longer to heal — but there wasn’t much that could be done about the fact that his body was tired, and it apparently showed to anyone who got close enough. Still, he wasn’t the kind of person who had a habit of laying his soul out to bare, so he settled on a diversion — the kind of reasoning that would make sense to someone who didn’t know to question it. “I don’t know if you know this, but they have this thing called the grocery store...” His words were thickly laced with mirth. “It’s got food, and drinks, and all kinds of stuff that prevents a need for frequenting places like, well — here.” His eyes trailed the area around them, customers dining in red booths and high chairs. It would just have to do. “But I must say, it’s rather nice knowing you’ve missed me.”

His tone remained playful, but he had to wonder if there was some truth to his mockery. They were both adults, both intelligent — so it wasn’t so much as a question as to whether or not they were aware of the subtle feelings that tended to arise whenever the other was near, so much as when they would go about acknowledging it themselves. Watching as her breakfast was delivered, he only averted the waitress’ attention for a brief moment to request a topping off of his coffee, to which she quickly obliged with a glass decanter before scurrying off to her next awaiting table. Resuming his gaze on Elizabeth, as he raised his mug to his lips he smiled — another question, how like her. “That would be because I am — tired, that is. Being a face of the law around here is certainly not for the faint hearted,” It was about as much as he could offer, without revealing too much of the depths for which he’d made a home within. Not to mention, he certainly had no intentions of bringing up his father; even with the thoughts of the man’s parole running rampant in his mind at all times. Wondering when he’d hear a knock, only to open it and find the devil on his doorstep. Yes, it was much easier to simply avoid those things entirely. “You must really love what you do then, using the words ‘ fun ’ and ‘ kids ’ in the same sentence..” It wasn’t that he had a certain dislike for children — in fact, it was entirely the opposite. He loved kids — or rather, they tended to bode well with him. Perhaps it was the shiny badge he wore, or the colorful sirens that he donned on his vehicle — but either way, he had a natural ability to connect with them. But as much as he didn’t mind them, he was also terrified of them. The idea of bringing a kid into the world only to screw it up — after all, who was he to ever consider being responsible for another human being. He barely had his own shit together as it was. “It’s good to hear though..” He hesitated, considering. “You look well.”

As she plunged her fork into one of the piled sausages on her plate, he knew what she’d prepared to do even before she’d managed to slide it onto his own plate, littered with the debris of his nearly finished meal. “Be careful, thinkin’ like that we just might end up spendin’ all night in here, trading dishes.” Wiry fingers found their way around his forgotten fork, hovering over the sausage. His stomach was closer to full than it was empty, but he wasn’t about to deny the gesture. “For the future — No. I barely know what’s gonna happen tomorrow,...but tonight, I’ve got no plans, at least after six. That’s when I’ll be done at the station.”

#( › e. stone )

[g-acostas]

H. MIKAELS

Harlow knew the gazes that followed her. She’d already rejected countless men between her arrival at the bar and the distance she closed between Gabriel and herself. Hungered men with swollen bellies watched who the lucky bastard would be. She’d imagined that it would make many angry to be rejected only to watch the woman put her energy into another. Especially since she’d told countless men that she was married. Alas, the brunette couldn’t find a reason to care. It was innocent, at best. A long standing tradition between the pair and a show of mercy towards one another. All she was doing was repaying a favor that he had commenced many moons ago. Plus, by the look on his face, she could see disinterest in the conversation he had with the patron at his side. Perhaps she’d read the scenario wrong but it wouldn’t be the first time that Harlow inserted herself into a conversation with little disregard. As greedy as always, she took as she pleased and paid little thought to common decency. As she found the seat to his side, a leg crossed over the other while mossy hues flicked over his being. He was an handsome man and it was only a matter of time before the girls nearby got drunk enough that she deemed a cheesy pick up line would be enough to pick Gabriel up. While curious about what he would do in such a scenario, she had chosen to pay them both a favour for the time being. Their companionship would deter any unwanted advances. 

“I wanted to do it,” the brunette quipped with a fall of her shoulders. Delicate fingers toyed with the glass she’d placed on the bar table. “Plus, I don’t believe in roles between men and women. While I don’t regularly go out of my way to spend money on men, I don’t expect them to do the same.” No, rather she took it from them but that was neither here or there. “I’m all about equality.” Peering up from him towards the room where men and women had settle on watching their interaction, she could only smirk. “So we’ve got an audience. I feel bad not presenting them with a show.” Words slid past her tongue, though she only spoke them in order to get a reaction out of him. “A day,” she echoed with a nod as she brings the glass to her lips. “What made it a day?” Whether he’d tell her or not, she felt the least she could was inquire about it as he’d done so many times for her. “It’s been a day as well. A little hectic but nothing that can’t be handled.” Her wrist turned to reveal the face of her watch which twisted. “Ten, fifteen minutes.” While she could answer how long he’d been here, she had another question in mind. “How long are you staying?”

"Thank you,” The reply came out softly, yet ever genuine, the liquor beginning to settle in his blood causing him to be far more relaxed as the moments had passed on. Not that he had questioned her intentions, or that he had any reason to believe she was the kind of woman who was opposed to returning such favors. Nonetheless, it had been a pleasant surprise, to find her to be the bearer of his newfound gift, and he’d felt need to make a point of his appreciation. The ice in his glass clattered against one another as the whiskey began to melt away it’s frost, and he cleared his throat, shrugging in agreement. “I would expect nothing less. Though, you’d be surprised how jaded some people can be, so I try not to assume.” Admittedly, she wasn’t the first woman to have sent a drink his way, or more specifically, delivered it personally — but it was one of the first times in a long time that he’d been so inviting towards the gesture. He mostly did what he could to avoid such offers, however politely he deemed reasonable. And he didn’t know what it meant that she was one of the few people that he could bare to stand interacting with for more than a few minutes. But he did what he could not to question why things just felt different when she was around. Almost like he could be someone worthy of such a woman. In her presence he wasn’t any more so a honorable man, then he was a traitor. Not a Major or a mole. Just a guy, in a bar, sharing a drink with a woman that most people would spend their last dime to do the same. It didn’t have to be spoken aloud for anyone to know that of all people, he would’ve never turned her away. “An audience indeed," Gabriel concurred, sending a final glance to their onlookers. Their eyes beady and lustful among the shadows. 

Upon her prospect, he went about setting his glass back atop the bar, his fingers remaining loosely wrapped around the tumbler. Then, with ease, he leaned forward slightly, a devious smirk painted against his features. “I’m sure they’ll manage, unless you had something in mind..” His eyebrows raised, soaked with the implication of a challenge, before he leaned back slightly on his stool. The question that followed as an inquiry to his previous statement caused his smile to grow distant, and his eyes found his glass as his index finger began to trace the rim, thoughts beginning to swell and overlap. “Well, it was uh —” he found himself chuckling, considering his answers. “It was nothin’, really...let’s just say working for the Sheriff’s department isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be,” Among other things. “If it’s cracked up to be anything at all — but I don’t wanna bore you,” Shaking his head he went about raising his glass once more, pausing just before he grazed another sip, the details of her day being of much more interest to him. “Anything I can help with?” The offer was a shot in the dark, seeing as they rarely tended to cross paths outside of the very scene they sat within, but the idea of her having to make do with anything labeled as ‘ hectic ’, brought on the innate urge to provide relief where he could. After all, if what she considered to be hectic was in her eyes easily ‘handled’, then he at best would find it entirely manageable. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, he finally took a deep gulp from his glass, thankful that the ice hadn’t watered it down too much just yet. “Depends,” Smiling, he lowered his wrist. “How long are you?”

#( › h. mikaels )

[g-acostas]

do you ever lay in your bed at night and wonder how your life would've gone if you had made different choices?

“Mierda, what are you — my therapist?” More nights than I can count.

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

Anyone you've got your eye on in town?

“Yes — though, I won’t say whom or why.”

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

Do you think you'll ever want out of being a mole or is the money too good?

"The answer to both of those questions — is yes. But, to be clear, being a mole has offered me far more than just a good pay day.”

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

R. THANE

♣️

In the very nicest of terms, Rowan thinks the bar is disgusting. But something about it brings a certain cover that she feels she needs tonight — most of her social circle don’t frequent it, and those that do aren’t about to start chatting her up. The fact that Seth owns it and is more than likely stalking around the shadows helps a little too, knowing he isn’t about to turn around and run to her husband that she’d come in looking like someone kicked her puppy. For all of it’s faults, at least the Dive allows it’s patrons a certain amount of discretion. Who wants to admit they were there in the first place, after all? More people than one would think, but one of Rowan’s fatal flaws has always been what a judgmental bitch she can be, the bar nor it’s regular customers being spared from it — even if she herself has become somewhat of a regular lately. No one ever said she wasn’t a hypocrite. 

A quiet laugh pulls from her, head tilting at him as she shoots him an incredulous look. “Honesty is the best policy unless you’re tellin’ us we look like shit,” she points out, voice teetering on the edge of teasing. “Come on, that’s day one shit.” Gabriel is someone Rowan knows vaguely — their social circles overlap just enough that she knows who he is, that they’ve had interactions like this one. She likes him well enough, but reminds herself she doesn’t know him well enough to make a real judgement call on that either. The fact that he’s a cop sticks in the back of her mind, her view on the profession bittered by her father and her husband’s stint in prison, but she tries not to hold that against him. Some days she does better than others. Her fingers wrap around the shot glass, tapping it against the bar top gently. “Not really. It’s never been my first choice, though my mother in law drinks it like it’s water. She used to practically pour it down my throat on holidays,” her nose scrunches at the memory, stomach churning right along with it. “Gin and tonic, double.” Her grip on the shot glass loosens when a bar tender finds them again, switching out the empty glass for her requested drink. “What brings you to a place like this, officer?” She uses his title, or at least a simplified version of it, though there isn’t any malice behind it nor any expectations. They both know he isn’t sitting at home polishing his badge every night. “Besides the company.”

“That’s fair,” Gabriel muses, absentmindedly rolling his cigarette over the pads of his fingertips, the smoke twirling in unison. “I guess it wouldn’t surprise you to know that I didn’t do too well in the sandbox either,” He’d never actually had the experience of meeting other kids his age back in what some might recall as ‘ the good ole days ’. Growing up, the only interactions he’d had were with his family — cousins, aunts, and uncles. Never a sibling, though he doubted it would’ve helped much. Even rarer so that he found a friend worth keeping, or a friend who was allowed to still hang around him after their parents realized who Gabriel’s father was. It had all but prevented him of being familiar with ‘ day one shit ’ . Still, he managed to form some semblance of charm over the years, finding it easier to appease the masses then to stand out like a sore thumb. It had only been a minor slip up that he’d been so blunt initially, and had it have been one of the dancers he very well might have ended up wearing his shot instead of drinking it. So, he would take the wry scolding in exchange for the latter. Noting the emptiness of his own glass, he debated another round of Don, or the prospect of something that would stand to last a bit longer. “It tastes like water too, if you drink enough,” His eyes flicker with a gaze of knowing, having had his fair share of nights where he’d drunken himself to a point of not being able to tell the difference. “But, I can admit, it’s an acquired taste.” He’d nearly puked the first time his father had urged him to take a swig from his own bottle of Espolon. The liquid had sloshed over the rim as Gabriel had struggled to uphold the weight, and he’d nearly choked as it galloped into his nostrils. Needless to say, he’d had to adapt. 

As the bartender neared, he made a point to call out his own replacement, “Godfather, straight up.” It took mere minutes, between the man sliding over Rowan’s request, and making Gabriel’s, before the fresh glass was returned to his grasp. He intended to take a sip for taste, when the call of his title rang soundly in his ears. He paused, glass only raised mid-way. The amber liquid inside glittering under the bar lights. Then, he shifted, eyeing her with an unreadable gaze. It wasn’t often that people used such labels around him, let alone at The Dive of all places. His role within the community not being one that most of those currently around him would find themselves fond of. It was the very reason he did things like change out of his uniform before walking into such a place, or why he did his best to exude a sense of solitary will — never wanting to be necessarily bothered, or acknowledged — questioned. This made it harder for him to block out the flash of surprise that slipped over his face at the mention, but he was quick to relax his features, slipping into the familiarity of indifference. After all, he doubted she’d meant anything by it, what with her own ties that existed. She knew as well as anyone that close up, the title was merely a loose term. “Besides the company,” he parroted, pondering what other reason he might have had outside of simply needing a drink — there were several other bars for that. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he inhaled deeply, “I don’t know, I guess it can be nice to be in a place where it’s harder to hear your own thoughts.” A dash of the honesty of which she found to be ‘ best policy ’, though he didn’t allow it to hang in the air long, following up with the veil of satire. “What about you doc? On the look out for new patients?”

#( › r. thane )

[g-acostas]

M. ELLIS

“Now now, let’s not get the saints involved. Being religious is too much work. Patience, obedience, abstinence? Too much work, yes.” Even though two of three things on that list, Miles already did. His lack of sexual partners was a personal preference, and patience was in the work load, no? All the same, Miles raises his own bottle to his lips, not really enjoying the sip he takes, the beer feeling bitter on his tongue and he keeps it down. Alcohol was another vice he was way too picky about. “Oh you know I thrive under that kind of attention, amigo. Can’t see what could go wrong with that kind of attention.” Those were famous last words, and the irony didn’t go unnoticed on the man himself. But he’s confident in his ability to be beyond off putting to thwart any kind of attention. Now that was the duality of being Miles fucking Ellis. He actually chortles at the mention of una anciana, the whole concept being foreign to him, as it is unnecessary. “I’m not holding my breath on that front. I’m more of a lone wolf, or James Bond. I flirt with women and then never call them back. That’s my life, man, and I’m not changing it.” Truth be told, Miles is afraid to love. To be actually loved and cared for by someone in a romantic capacity is his biggest fear, and he’s turned away from every attempt at something like that. He shakes his head, picking at the label on his beer bottle, and then he smirks mirthlessly. “No te preocupe, hermano. You’re right where you’re meant to be on the contact list. Besides, we see too much of each other anyways.”

"Yeah, about as much work as being a sinner,” Gabriel countered, teetering his head from side to side, though he knew he was as bad as they came. “But at least we get to have a little more fun.” Pressing his tongue into his cheek to bite back his smile, he shifted his beer from one hand to the other as the condensation began to slip over his knuckles. In all honesty, he didn’t take much pride in the sinister nature behind his ways. A snake , constantly shedding skins, none of which bared any insight as to who he truly was underneath it all. So, the attention, while managed, wasn’t always something he welcomed — not that he’d ever return someone’s greeting with anything other than a smile, whether it be tightly fixed or genuine. Nevertheless, he saw a lot of himself in Miles, but in varying ways — similar paths, different strides. To put it simply, they went about business differently, but their intentions often existed within the same realm. Enough so, that Gabriel felt comfortable having such casual discussions over a drink, or several, not feeling the need to put up much of front around someone who didn’t seem to really care about such trivialities. “That could be fair, but I’ve seen enough crímenes de pasión to know just how much could go wrong with that sort of attention,” And it was true, starting with both the death of his mother, and those of the many women and men he’d unfortunately had to identify after someone took their attention — and affection, or obsession — too far. Apart of Gabriel found nothing funny about those sort of situations, but in retrospect he always had a feeling it wasn’t an understatement to believe Miles was one who could handle himself. In fact, he rarely felt need to ever worry about the man not returning after a job, or in this case, an outing with a suitor who was far more involved then he ever would be. Lifting his hand, he shook his head, snickering. “Oh, I see — agente secreta sexual,” His tone was mocking as his snickers blossomed into laughter. “Hey, I get it though, it’s better to go without the long-term distractions — and we could do without any more inocentes to protect.” Finally taking another swig of his beer, he hummed, teasing. “Gettin’ sick of seein’ my mug?”

#( › m. ellis )

[g-acostas]

What Do You Take For Granted?

"I don’t have much to begin with — so I try not to take anything I do have for granted.”

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?

“My dad. But...then, y’know — once he killed my mom that sort of lost all of it’s appeal. After that, all I wanted to be was anything that would make me different then him.”

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

do you ever feel guilty for being a shady officer?

"The proper term, is , Major — but, who exactly is callin’ me shady?”

#( › ask ) #( › white lies | ask )

[g-acostas]

I. ROJAS

❀

Izzy was always dressed to a T, she was always perfectly made up and those that got to see beneath the perfect image she put forth were lucky in their own way. Maybe not because she was gorgeous or perfect, by any means, but more so because it is truly a sign of trust. Only those closest to her have seen anything but contour and perfect hair, her manicured nails long and colored perfectly. So while the woman looks tired and worn, she doesn’t look a total mess. At least, she doesn’t think so. “Sounds like a plan to me,” she smiles, licking the remnants of the shot off her lips, still burning from the alcohol. At the signal to get whatever she wants from the man, she grins and orders herself a vodka cranberry, the cranberry being the lesser amount of glass. Looking back at Gabriel, she leans forward a bit. “Thank you, baby,” she says with a smile, hand reaching out to pat the man’s arm. “Yeah, I worked all day and now I’m here after hearing way too much about Ms. Kathy’s pricey divorce and Elizabeth’s best friend’s, cousin’s Botox that makes her look just like some celebrity that she definitely doesn’t fucking look like. And anyways, I’ve been moving and so I’m tired as Hell,” she explains, talking way too fast for most to comprehend but slowing down toward the end to sigh. “Can’t wait to go off on my own.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Gabriel offered a humble nod, finding that they were far past the formalities of her needing to express any form of gratitude, but appreciating it nonetheless. The pet name had been a nice touch, causing the corners of his mouth to flicker upward, briefly — before he shook his head, scooping up his fresh drink as it was slid towards him. He’d never been privy to respond in any sort of endearing way, outside of a prolonged look that was meant to only be understood by her. It had been quite the surprise when they’d first initially met, under very similar circumstances, and he’d found her to act almost too comfortable — as if she’d known him for years. Gabriel, being who he was, and the things he knew, had a habit of keeping his distance. But over time he’d loosened up to the idea of running into her when he did, not minding sharing a drink or two and listening to her spiels of the daily gossip, that would’ve been better off being splattered in the Olympus newsletter. He might’ve been more hesitant to entertain such trivial relationships, but for all that she’d learned through the grapevine, she had a way of avoiding the vulnerable when it came to their interactions, which Gabriel had never minded— seeing as he was about as interested in revealing the truest of his colors as she apparently was. “You know, you should be an auctioneer,” He said suddenly, finding humor in the speed of which she had relayed the business of Ms. Kathy and Elizabeth’s cousin. Fighting a laugh, he pressed onward. “Movin’, though?” His eyebrows raised, interest peaked. “Where are you headin’ off to?”

#( › i. rojas )

[g-acostas]

A. GILLENKERK

“It has it’s perks,” she spoke. Aurora did like the fact that she worked at a family business. Her bosses were her own blood and the people in her life that she trusted and adored the most, outside of the MC. “Sometimes the temptation does threaten to overcome me, but I’ve also been working here since I was a teen. I’ve managed to control it,” Aurora let out a casual chuckle. “Oh yes, how many did you want again? Our blackberry turnovers aren’t that popular so you can take as many as you’d like.”

“I commend your willpower,” He gave a slight bow of his head, soft laughter tumbling past his lips. For a brief moment, he felt as though he truly were just a regular old lawman, popping in for a sugary treat on his break. But then he remembered the sort of business he’d be getting into once he walked out of the door, blackberry turnovers in his hand or not— and his laughter slowed, smile dimming, if only slightly. He’d never go so far as to reveal any sort of true emotion on his face, most certainly not in front of someone who he’d seen around on both sides of the tracks. Even now he found it hard to remember that they weren’t entirely the people they always portrayed themselves to be. They wore different masks in daylight, but behind them they bore the same faces and expressions of those whose hands were far too deep in a mess they could no longer nearly get out of— or want to, for that matter. Clearing his throat, he did his best to realign his expression, previous smile returning languidly. Upon her observation, he frowned, feigning insult. “Not popular? Well, I’ll be damned, more for me it seems,” Smirking, he lifted his finger in thought. “I’ll take about a few more than I should— yeah, four ought’a do. Please.”

#( › a. gillenkerk )