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BETTY COOPER → 05x10: The Pincushion Man
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Lili Reinhart photographed by Eric Ray Davidson for Entertainment Weekly
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BROOKE DAVENPORT:
Brooke chuckles. “It’s okay,” the brunette waves off the fact her head is in the clouds but doesn’t dig any further because she’s the type of person who doesn’t push to know things. Her eyes drifting towards Peter in the arms of a certain blonde. It seems like their conversation earlier didn’t seem to sink into him and there’s another feeling that comes along with seeing the two embracing one another, maybe it’s the realization of how much of her life she stopped trying to live after Peter called it off. She turns her head to look over at her, shaking her head at her words. “Doubtful,” although if she’s honest the last few months after learning the Bratva was behind the death of her family it’s been harder for her to stay close to Vas and even Peter. “Vas is a fire that can’t be tamed, there’s no putting it out.” But he’s also hurting for some reason and the brunette will wait patiently until he’s ready to let her in. “Witty, kind, hilarious.” She huffs softly as she brings the drink up to her lips as she takes a sip of it. There were a few secrets of her own spilled with the blonde and learning that she has a connection to Vasili in some manners she doesn’t want to touch the topic. “I’m still trying to get to know him all over again… Even though there are some parts of him in there that I know… He’s much different now.”
...
Offering a small nod of thanks in response to Brooke’s reassurance, Isabella finds herself following the wayward gaze of the other woman, intrigued by the way in which it seems to linger upon not Vasili, but another Vronsky. “I take it you know his brother Peter too?“ She quipped, curiosity once again getting the better of her as blue-green hues returned to settle upon the woman briefly. “Peter’s another good friend of mine, we surf together more often than not. Speaking of which, you should come along some time. Given you’re new to the city and all, can’t say you’ve given everything a go until you’ve experienced the surf break out on lake Michigan.” The paramedic explained, offering a small smile as her shoulders rose and fell in a shrug of indifference. Green hues wandered the room, absorbing the vast array of 1920′s attire before gravitating toward a familiar figure where they remained. “A fire that can’t be tamed, truer words were never spoken.” She mused, as a small lopsided smile tugged at her lips and she found herself averting her gaze in the presence of the other woman before a certain secret occurred to her and brows furrowed together in thought. “Does he know --- about your kidnapping?”
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location: old town ale house
status: closed to @atticusxmcclain
date: january 6th
“Okay --- I am so sorry I’m late. Our last job for the day ended up being on the complete other side of the city and my new temp partner drives slower than my grandmother on a bad day.“ Isabella explained upon her arrival as she offered the other a smile in greeting. “If Brandon isn’t back soon I might just loose it.” She added, though she knew better than to take out her own frustrations on someone that was attempting to fill boots far too big for his own feet. Exhaling a sigh she settled onto the barstool next to him, hands encircling the bottle of beer that was already awaiting her before she turned somewhat to face the other. “But enough complaining from me. You looked rather cozy with a certain mystery woman before everything went to hell on New Years Eve --- have you been holding out on me, Ace?”
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location: northwestern memorial hospital
status: closed to @jacktaylcr
date: january 1st
Isabella considered herself to be a patient person when it countered, but there was nothing more agonizing than the feeling of having nothing but patience to cling too while the life of friend hung in the balance. Uncertainty lingered about the waiting room like a bad omen and it was the faces of those surrounding her that drew her attention. Many of which were dressed in similar Gatsby attire, wearing expressions of concern as they too awaited news. But it was the raven haired woman whom had initially brought her to Brandon's aid that her gaze settled upon as she paced before her. “Shapiro is as stubborn as they come, he will get through this.” She attempted to reassure, uncertain if it was more for the other’s benefit or her own as hues shifted from the woman to settle upon the faded carpet beneath her feet.
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DIANA VRONSKY:
But it was needed, she almost volleys back only to nod instead. This entire debacle isn’t her fight and there are far more pressing matters at hand than attempting to mend a situation Jesse wouldn’t approve of her involvement in. “You can see, but you have no idea what you’re looking at.” The younger blonde lingered very much in the dark and so long as their brothers willed that to remain, Diana had no intention of shedding light for Isabella’s sake. No matter how endeared she might have grown towards her company. Listening in silence, her expression betrays no inclination one way or another as she allows the woman to detail her personal struggle with feeling less than able, a hapless victim of her circumstances rather than empowered. Anyone else and the ask would be a tinge less dangerous for Diana’s personal relationships, whereas the youngest Marino’s dual connections to significant figures in her life proves tricky. Not impossible, but certainly a challenge. “I like you, Isabella. I do.” She begins, inhaling slowly as rigid features turn to the other woman. “And I’m no stranger to secrets, as you’re well aware.” A self-jab perhaps, though she carries forward without a shred of mirth. “However, what you’re asking of me comes with a pretty significant caveat. Are you comfortable keeping a secret from your brother and mine? Because yours wouldn’t feel comfortable with this sort of arrangement and I can’t explain to mine without putting the former at risk.”
...
“Maybe I don’t want to know what I’m looking at.” Isabella countered rather bluntly, before shoulders rose and fell in a shrug of indifference. “I don’t know." Nevertheless, she did know who she would go to for the truth should that change, the one person that refused to grant her the truth all those years ago. The difference was that in many ways Isabella was a stranger to secrets. She had seen the destruction on her family that was but a consequence of her fathers secret and she was determined to be everything that Frank Marino wasn’t. Open, transparent and above all else a good person. It didn’t help that the youngest Marino was a terrible liar and her family knew that. But with the weight of her brothers secret she suddenly felt the tides turning. Perhaps she was more like her father than she wanted to believe. “What I’m asking has nothing to do with your brother or mine; this is between you and I.“ She remarked, blue-green hues lifting from the crowd beyond to settle upon the older woman. Truthfully, secret or not, the need to escape that realm of helplessness overpowered all else. “But the answer is yes, if that’s what needs to be done then so be it.” She added, before it occurred to her that there was something else she needed to get off her chest, away from the prying ears and judgmental gaze of her brother. “There is something else--” Bella began, gaze scanning those within the immediate vicinity as if to affirm both the eldest Marino and youngest Vronsky were no where in sight. “--you should give you brother more credit -- it doesn’t take a genius to see that his family is important to him, you especially. Keeping him in the dark like this, about you and Jesse, it’s cruel. And if you two are as close as you seem, then he’s no risk to my brother because Vasili would never go out of his way to hurt you of all people.“
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VASILI VRONSKY:
The Bratva member is a stark reminder of something that seems so sobering that he almost blinks a few times to rid himself of the fantasy that he has lost himself in. It’s one of his father’s henchmen, and he knows that he shouldn’t be rude, but his response is cool, distant, quickly dismissive, so unlike the usual demeanour, but he can’t risk something being said to Isabella. His body is tense, ready for the worst, when he realises something. Her own body had tensed, he had felt it, and she had sought to step closer to him, his own arm instinctively wrapping protectively slightly around her waist as she does, at the same time. It’s a move that feels synchronised, rehearsed, and it sparks something that he tries in vain to temper. It’s no use, not really, not when he pretends her hand in his doesn’t ignite an onslaught of a feeling he’s not quite ready to name. But her eyes are gazing up at his, in that way that makes it so easy to slip back into that wild dream he’s thought up for himself, and he doesn’t let go, craving to be close to her, and he’s sure his grin is wild. “Friend of my father’s,” he nods though, and they continue their foray into the midst of the crowd. It feels oddly exposing, and an invisible pain twinges in his upper chest, right beneath his shoulder. The last time, he had been just as exposed, just as vulnerable. Except this time, it’s not just himself. The thought makes it infinitely worse. He glances furtively around the room, taking stock of the people nearest to him, and then focuses his attention on the space beneath his left arm, against his side, where his weapon is holstered to himself. Relief washes over him when he feels the familiar weight of it. He’s brought back to reality by her offer of going to the diner makes and somehow it makes him irrationally frustrated. His experience with late evenings spent at diners were not in the interest of friendship, and yet, there feels like there could be a slight tone of flirtation beneath the words, and he knows that there’s not, or if there is any, it’s his own doing, and it frustrates him even more. “Maybe,” he nods. “Tough to say if I’m wiling to break curfew, my parents might take my car away from me,” he doesn’t really give an answer, plays it off as a joke, so he doesn’t have to say that he does, more than anything, want to spend the evening with her at the diner. Her next words returns the playful grin to his face and he pulls away only slightly, looking down at her with feigned offense. “So, let me get this straight, now you’re saying you don’t love my face? Fuck, the hits just keep coming,” he looks pained. “You could be a nicer friend and hype me up, you know. All this downplaying is really hurting my feelings.” A hand slips around her waist, bringing her a little closer as he begins to gently twirl her around the dance floor. “You’re getting much better at dancing.”
...
Her cheeks hurt from the almost wild grin that seems perpetually engraved into her features in his presence. The ability to forget the entirety of those around them is effortless and her usual wall of resistance crumbles under the guise of liquid courage. Nevertheless, if the untimely presence of his father’s friend isn’t enough to shake her from the fleeting illusion she’s enthralled by, then his abrupt response to her offer of prolonging the evenings end most certainly is. Despite the lack of a decline, she can’t help but feel the harsh sting of rejection in the wake of a maybe and consequentially she feels herself both mentally and physically pull back. Shoulders straightening, her hand shifts from his neck to his shoulder before Isabella steps back, inserting the much needed distance. “Suit yourself, with or without you --- I’ll go alone if I must.“ She returns, brushing off his response as her cheeks flush a faint scarlet rendering the blonde thankful for the dim lighting that’s cast over the ballroom. Catching sight of her best friend from across the room, she’s reminded of her promise to track the other woman down at some stage within the evening. “There’s something I have to do.“ She mutters, drawing back from him as her hands slip from his. “And if I don’t find you beforehand meet me back here, just before midnight.” The paramedic adds, leaning up as if to place a chaste kiss to the side of his cheek, only she hesitates, thinking better of such actions before settling back into her heels. “Who am I kidding, you’re not exactly hard to find.” Bella quips, a slight chuckle escaping her as she turns on her heel and makes her way across the room.
TIME SKIP
Isabella wasn’t sure how long she had been at the hospital as she made her way out of the waiting room and toward the front lobby. The winter wonderland beyond the hospital entrance remained shrouded in darkness and with no sign of the sun coming up she could only assume it had been all of a few hours. Blue-green hues shifted from the scene outside to cast down over her bloodstained dress, which acted as a stark reminder of the events that had abruptly ended the evening. Fear cursed through her once more as the image of Brandon, bleeding out as he lay in the raven haired woman’s arms, replayed over in her mind. And suddenly the urge to find the nearest bathroom and scrub every inch of her skin raw until she was free of her fellow paramedic’s blood. But instead she stared blankly down at her phone, flicking through the numbers before pressing dial upon one. She didn’t expect him to pick up, if anything she anticipated leaving a voicemail but when the ringing stopped she was caught off guard. “Hey, it’s me.“ She ushered in voice that was barely above a whisper. “I’m at the hospital, my uh --- my friend got shot. He got through surgery, doctor says he’ll make a full recovery.” She explained, free hand wrapping around herself as she struggled momentarily to remember why she had even dialed his number in the first place. “I don’t know why I called, I just --- I really don’t wanna be alone right now.“ But of course she knows, she’d always known.
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VASILI VRONSKY:
He wants to hold her to her words, but he knows as well as anyone that words spoken under duress were always heat of the moment words and he decides to let it go. She could have meant them, he reasons with himself, and perhaps she did, even to Diana (whom, he realises, frustratingly never let on) but of course that’s what Bella would say to his sister. The admission that there’s some truth brings a smile to his lips for a moment, a secret smile that he smiles when her back is to him and it’s quickly wiped as she wades further into the cold water and turns to him. “Sure, you had to say something nice about me, just in case,” he shrugs it off. “Especially to my sister. I am her favourite brother after all,” he smirks a little, but the fun is lost when Diana isn’t actually there to hear it. It just depends on the lengths you’re willing to go to make things happen for yourself. Of course, she couldn’t know, and he stops himself from scoffing at the words. If only she knows how much of a fallacy those words could mean, he idly thinks to himself, occupying himself with treading water as he dares to go further. He doesn’t want to turn his back on the family business, but he knows that his time with Bella, safely ensconced in their pretend world, is limited. The sun is starting to slip beneath the horizon, just behind the string of mountains that hold them in, and he mulls over the words before mumbling, so quietly that he’s not even sure if she’s heard him. “Some lengths are impossible.” He doesn’t know if he’s talking about her, about how many times he’s wanted to cross that invisible line with her, or about his family. But he knows both are futile. He’d never push her bounds, just like how he’d never leave his family, but he entertains the idea for another moment and then stops himself. It’s hard to fathom that there had once been a time where he had known Bella but after their breakup, they hadn’t spoken for some time. It feels like a lifetime ago, and somehow, he can still remember the way she felt in his arms on a sleepy Sunday morning, or how her hair smelt after one of their beach visits, and it stirs something terrifying in his chest. It seems like the most natural thing now, to be at some lake, swimming, her making fun of salty Russians and him letting her, and after, when they’re both on the shore wrapped up in towels and jumpers by the fire, watching their food cook, he asks, his own green eyes illuminated by the fireside, “Aside from spiders, what else are you afraid of?”
...
Green hues settled upon the horizon beyond as the sun set in the sky casting a bold array of fresh colors as if brushed upon an artist's canvas. If there ever was a definition to the word beauty, then it was the display beyond them. Sure, you had to say something nice about me, just in case. His words were enough to release her from whatever trance she had been in, the cold depths of the lake surrounding her severed to clear her mind instantaneously of any further noise. “No.” She countered abruptly so, before shaking her head as droplets from her now wet tresses dripped down over her porcelain features. Her smile promptly fell and brows furrowed together in something akin to annoyance as hues lifted to flicker over her shoulder and back toward him. “It wasn’t like that at all.” She corrected, gaze searching his as she proceeded to study the others features illuminated by the glow of the sinking sun. “Is it so difficult to believe that someone might actually care about you?“ The question is weighted, with more than she dares to be forthcoming with. And without waiting for what she can only predict will be yet another deflection by way of his trademark humor, she finds purchase with the lake floor and takes her leave to find solace by the warmth of the fire.
Nestled beside the campfire, the blonde raises her hands toward the forked flames watching in eager anticipation as they dance and bite their way over a new log. The crackle of the fire is soothing and it promptly unwinds the tension in her shoulders as her chin lifts, head turning to meet his gaze as she considered his question. “I don’t know, I guess I always thought becoming my father was my biggest fear.” She mused idly, face contorting at the mere thought. And while she saw traits of her father within herself, in the form of her stubbornness or even her quick-temper she was all too aware that it was within her control to ensure the only thing they ever truly shared, were genetics. “My entire career I’ve seen people get torn apart, physically and mentally by their involvement in one of these so called gangs or whatever you wanna call it. And for the longest time I wrote them all off as nothing but criminals.” She explained, the heat of his gaze beginning to feel a little too much for the subject she was about to broach as blue-green hues settled back upon the campfire. “I also thought I had a very clear understanding of right and wrong, good and bad. But I’ve come to learn that good and bad, they’re not mutually exclusive concepts and sometimes, good people have to do bad things. Whether it be for the sake of their family, to pay for their mother’s cancer treatments, or even just to put food on the table. Sometimes they’re pushed into something that’s beyond their realm of control.” She continued, unsure if it was her brother or even the man beside her that she was ultimately talking about. Perhaps there were equal truths to both men. “Previously I saw it, I acknowledged it but I was so far removed from it all that it never really sunk in. Until you got stabbed and suddenly it didn’t feel so far away, it became all too real. And then to nearly loose both Vi and Jesse in that stupid Halloween fun house fire of all things --- loosing good people, the people I love to this foolish so called war, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
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LILI REINHART
getting ready for the 2021 Met Gala
by Christian Siriano on instagram
September 13, 2021
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VASILI VRONSKY:
“Oh?” His interest piques. “And who might you have told that to? The world is a better place with me in it, hm?” He mulls over the words a few times, like a sweet snack, and it brings a goofy grin to his lips as he lingers on those words. He doesn’t want to ask if it were true or if she’s simply made it up to get a rise out of him, choosing to believe the former and hopes that his own racing mind will slow down. He doesn’t know why those few simple words brings such a joy to the moment as he watches the lake, the pleasant calm water that doesn’t seem to be disturbed by anything, the way the sun is slowly slipping beneath the horizon. He’s not usually the pensive sort, but the setting enticed a few more thoughts and emotions from him that usually remained deeply buried. “If my father asked…” he muses her question thoughtfully, and follows her lead, beginning to pull his shirt up and over his head, shaking his ruffled hair from his eyes. “I think I’d have a few ideas,” he leaves it at that, not wanting to delve too much into a fantasy that he shouldn’t even entertain. “But no use thinking about things that won’t happen, easiest way to go crazy, right?” He throws her a grin, watching a she tests the water and his eyes linger, before looking away. It’s not like he’s never seen her in a bathing suit before, and he’s never stopped himself from looking at other women, but somehow it feels too intimate, and he toes off his shoes and his pants and undershirt follow quickly, before he’s wading into the water, wincing at the temperature. It’s freezing, and somehow the temperature shock wakes him up a little. The heat from their hike up was almost wearing off, and his skin begins to pink almost immediately as he drops himself down to the shoulders immediately. A sharp hiss is pulled from his lips as he does, his fingers and toes already feeling numb, and Vasili curses as he stands up again, wading out deeper. “Elongated fish? It’s a fucking freak of nature, some weird combination of a fish and a snake, it’s just not right,” he splashes water towards her and nods at her dinner choice. “You’re telling me you’re not scared of anything? Not even eels? Fuck me, you might just have the biggest balls of anyone I’ve ever met.” He inwardly groans as soon as he speaks the words. That’s right, Vas, nothing better when swimming with a girl than telling her she has impressive symbolic genitalia. “Metaphorical, of course.” His exposed skin starts to erupt in goosebumps and he ignores it. Somehow, it makes him feel alive, and it’s the most awake he thinks he’s felt in a long time.
...
“Your sister actually.” Isabella began to explain and while the temptation to brush of her prior comment with another jest remained omnipresent, her candor won out. Tearing her gaze from his, she wades deeper into the cool waters as fingertips dance idly across the surface. “It was back when you were in the hospital, I’d just gotten off shift and heard what had happened. And while I may have been a little borderline delirious, I did mean it.” Her admission is sincere, perhaps a little too honest. Nevertheless, she’s thankful her expression is shielded from view as the shock of the icy water seems to awaken every ounce of her senses and she’s very much aware that her sobering expression is telling of the fear that surged through her all those months ago. The prospect of loosing him had awoken feelings she long believed remained dormant. Which in hindsight had never been dormant at all but instead obscured in a cloud of denial, because it had been those same, unresolved emotions that had prompted her to make that call at the lake, the night her car had broken down. “I have to disagree with you there, I mean that’s what dreams are for right? They’re never impossible, it just depends on the lengths you’re willing to go to make things happen for yourself.” She muses, blue-green hues lifting from the water before her to settle upon his figure as he too delves deeper into the depths of the lake. The warmth cast over the shallows from the suns afternoon rays seem to fade all too suddenly as she intakes a sharp breath before submerging up to her shoulders. It’s cold, very cold and she can’t help but welcome the rush of her senses being awoken as her heart hammers away in her chest. But it’s the hiss that he emits as the cold water consumes his form that encourages a hearty laugh from the blonde, which is only made louder as water is splashed in her direction. “Easy Vas, I wouldn’t say that too loud if I were you.” She muses in his direction, as the lakebed slips out from under her feet and she begins to tread water. “Rumor has it the eels here are a ‘special’ kind of breed and if they’ve been known to wake up from their winter hibernation just to feed on whatever they can find. And apparently salty Russians are quite the delicacy, so you might want to tread careful.“ She taunts, before shaking her head at his jest. “Of course I have my own fears, but I will most definitely take eels over spiders any given day of the week. At least eels can’t creep up over her body while you’re sleeping. Those leggy creepy-crawly’s however,--” She shudders at the though and a light shiver takes over her body as the cold sets in. “--it’s a no from me.”
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location: northwestern memorial hospital
status: closed to @brvnshapiro
date: january 1st
Having refused to leave Brandon's side from the moment the paramedics arrived and rushed him from the scene into the awaiting ambulance, the short ride to the hospital was made to feeling excruciatingly long. And despite her need to help she knew it was better to sit back and watch her colleagues do what they did best and it was only when she was sitting within the confines of the waiting room, surrounded by people that she could only assume were the friends and families of others that had been injured in the crossfire, that the weight of the failed event set in. Unsure of exactly how long she had sat in that chair, toying with the bloodied fabric of her dress, it wasn’t until the voice of another colleague pulled her from her thoughts and confirmed her friend and partner had pulled through surgery and was finally awake, that she really woke up from the nightmare. Making her way down the halls and past various others that remained in their 1920′s attire, the paramedic finally came to a stop in his doorway as blue-green hues settled on the figure in the bed. “No where in our contracts did it mention anything about you being allowed to get yourself shot, you Muppet.“ Isabella scolded, attempting to feign a tone of annoyance which was quickly upturned by the concern that danced across her features as she slipped into the room and drifted to the chair at his bedside. “Doc said you’re gonna be okay, but I wanna hear it from you. How are you feeling B?”
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VASILI VRONSKY:
He can take a punch. He knows that he can take a punch because not only has he thrown enough in his lifetime, but he’s also been on the receiving end of a few that he had felt were very impressive. But the punch in the gut that he receives when she steps back and grins at him in that coy way makes him feel winded, as if there’s not enough oxygen in the room and he has to blink back his confusion. Was this happening? Was her hand in his? Had he slipped and now was in some sort of hallucination? His brain feels starved of any sort of rational thought, and it’s almost as if he’s never had a sane thought before, everything that would have been there having effectively and simply slipped out. He gapes at her for a few seconds, like a fish out of water, opening his mouth and then quickly closing it and it’s the feeling of her finger in his about to slip from his grasp that makes him hold on tighter and follows her. His usual responses (”No, I don’t dance” or “no, I don’t want to dance”) have evaporated, and he follows her into the dance floor where he can feel how close they are, and his hands find her waist easily, snaking around and slowly swaying to the music. It’s torturously a slow song, and his long arms feels awkward at her sides, as if he has no clue how to hold her, and settles on a respectable and, importantly, friendly, hold at her sides as he feels her fingers at the nape of his neck. Shivers erupt down his spine and he feels lost in that moment briefly, and it feels as if they’re the only two breathing in the room, his own expression, devoid of the mask of indifference or jest, focused on hers in awe. He clears his throat quickly when he realises and he bends his head slightly to hear her over the music. “Oh yeah, that’s right,” he muses absently. “Honestly, my mother would be thoroughly affronted with the knowledge that they’re only serving finger food, but god, I’d pay big money for a burger, which for your information, could easily be concealed in between-” his sentence is disturbed with a nod and hello from a fellow Bratva member beside him and he follows protocol, offering his own smile and nod. “Anyway, tell me more about how much you love my face,” he teases from her sentiment earlier, leading her around the dance floor. “About how handsome and rugged I look.”
...
There’s but a moment, a brief interlude in the whirlwind that had become New Years Eve where time seems to slow and for second it very nearly feels as though they’re back in college and he’s looking at her with those same emerald hues. The warmth in his gaze nearly enough to flush her cheeks with a fain scarlet, but instead she disengages, tearing her gaze from his to focus upon leading him through the crowd without tripping over her own feet. And just when she’s preparing a quick retort, warning him off finishing such a sentence, her attention is drawn to that of another man at their side. There’s something about the stranger that leaves her with an uneasy feeling that settles in her stomach but instead of withdrawing from Vasili, as perhaps a friend would have, she leans in closing the distance as if in need of the sense of safety and security that she knows comes with being wrapped within his embrace. It’s an action that she writes off as being spurred on by nothing more than the steady stream of liquid courage that continues to course throughout her bloodstream. “Friend of yours?” She muses idly, though she doesn’t expect an answer let alone confirmation as the pair drift further from the other man. “Your mother sounds like quite the woman. But speaking of burgers --- there’s a diner just down the road from my apartment. They do some pretty amazing burgers and I’m not even kidding, the best milkshakes in the city. If the food here is terrible or you’re still fighting that craving after midnight, we could always swing by there on the way home. That is if you don’t have to rush to beat your curfew of course, wouldn’t want to keep you out past your bedtime.“ Isabella taunts, though there’s a silent challenge in her tone that’s spurred on by the lopsided grin that dances across her lips. A grin that she attempts to stifle with a roll of her eyes as his ego takes center stage. Fingertips descend slowly to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck as she feigns a sigh, it’s a weak attempt to stifle the laughter that bubbles in her throat. “Please do tell me how complimenting your smile translates to loving your face? Even if it’s far from the worst here, your ego certainly doesn’t need any more stroking.” The blonde drawled, failing to suppress the light chuckle that escaped her. “Come on now, let’s not be too generous. Handsome sure, rugged however, --- maybe after a week or two in the wilderness, but I really don’t see it.“
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DIANA VRONSKY:
“I would argue that’s more protection than most people in this city are granted.” Herself included. “But it’s your battle, Isabella. Just don’t lose sight of who’s actually on your side through the cannon smoke.” The only advice Diana could fork over like the world’s flimsiest olive branch, unwilling to broach any further into the Marino family struggles. Jesse kept the responsibility for solving it firmly within his palms and she refused to subvert what he felt was best for his own family. Where did you learn to do what you did on Halloween? It’s a question not easily answered without revealing too much of the criminal underworld to someone who deserved a seat on its outskirts. “My father thought it might be useful if I learned self-defense,” which isn’t an inherent lie, but dances along the border. “And I’ve been told I’m an overachiever. Why do you ask?” Though she already guessed with a singular glance at the other blonde. “It’s not something you can master in an afternoon, it takes time.”
...
“Protection that was never asked for let alone wanted.” She was quick to counter, perhaps a little too quick as arms folded around her frame somewhat defensively. “I haven’t lost sight. If anything I can see clearer now than I ever have.” Isabella drawled, blue green hues following her older brother across the room as she spoke. “No thanks to you both.“ The youngest Marino added, with a hint of sarcasm laced into her velvet tone. As much as she felt betrayed by ghost of her father that lingered in Jesse’s gaze, she had to remember that he wasn’t Warren Marino. He had his own reasons, that while she didn’t necessary agree with, they in no way planted him in the same leagues as the man they once called dad. “I mean I figured as much. Nothing good never comes quick or easy, right?“ She said, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes as she considered her answer. It would’ve been too easy to respond with a hypothetical, to attempt to lead the older woman down the garden path and away from the real question that teetered on the tip of her tongue. But Diana Vronsky was smarter than that, that much was a given. And the younger woman remained a poor liar. “I ask because I’m tired of feeling a certain kind of way.” She began, exhaling a heavy sigh as her tone lowered some. “In the last year alone I’ve been threatened, held at gunpoint on the job, hell might as well add being nearly blown up to that list and not to mention coming close to having to watch my siblings burn to death. And on every occasion I was made to feel helpless, weak even, flailing in a situation that was out of my control. And I hate feeling like that.” Bella explained as blue-green hues flickered from the crowd beyond to meet her gaze. “But then on Halloween --- you took control of the situation and you were anything but helpless. Hell, you were strong. And all I could think is I would give anything to be like that. To feel strong and a little less helpless.”
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BROOKE DAVENPORT:
Brooke glanced down towards the flute being held out towards her as she lifted her own small glass of whatever the hell the bartender had made her. “I got a stiff one here,” the brunette chuckled as she brushed her fingers along the side of her glass. “We actually have a mutual friend, maybe even more.” She chuckled lightly, wondering if Isabella had only known some of the Vronskys or if she was entangled somewhere within the Bratva herself but the second one was less likely believable with the way Vasili looked at her. “Vasili is one of my best friends. We’ve been friends ever since we were kids. He’s actually the friend I moved here for,” she mused, knowing the blonde would probably connect the dots between her friend who was stabbed to Vas.
...
“Right -- sorry, my head was in the clouds.“ The blonde admitted, almost sheepishly as she raised the flute to her lips. Truthfully she had been too lost in her own thoughts, from family complications, to the way her stomach flipped as blue-green hues found his and of course that burning question that came to mind whenever the female Vronsky came into view. The youngest Marino was beyond distracted to say the least, nevertheless the steady stream of alcohol had allowed her but some small reprieve. “No kidding..” She was quick to retort, tone peaking with curiosity as a light chuckle escaped her. “I guess it really is a small world, huh. I mean I should have realized when you mentioned your friend had been stabbed.” She added, as a new level of realization dawned dawned upon her in the form of their last conversation and her own admission regarding the brunettes best friends sister. Well shit. “I sure hope you have better luck than the rest of us have with keeping him out of trouble.” Isabella quipped, in an attempted to steer the conversation as far as possible from their prior conversation. “What was he like, as a kid I mean?”
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VASILI VRONSKY:
“Deadpan? That’s just my face,” he pretends to be offended, but grins anyway, and brings his drink to his lips. He wishes he’s more drunk, and wishes that he had the courage to reach out and trace the way the curl fall over her shoulder slightly, but he’s not and he doesn’t. “We are not on the same wavelength, what a disappointment,” he plays up the sad expression, his lips pulled downwards and laughs soon after. Her hand is pulled from his and he realises that he’s crossed that border again, his hand feeling as if it’s been slapped and he occupies one by placing it into a pocket, the other curling around the drink that all of a sudden has stopped being enticing. “A line? You think I’d use lame lines on that on you?” He grins. “No way, if I wanted to use a line on you, you’d know and you wouldn’t think it was a line,” he’s not lying. But that thought is dangerous, and he knows that not only has she made it abundantly clear where her boundaries are, it would also be horribly irresponsible of him to initiate anything more than he already has. The event is sobering enough, with Syndicate member milling around and Vasili shifts his eyes away and catches a few people casting curious glances towards him. He spots his brothers, his sister, and a few others which makes him feel safer, but he knows the Ozdemir’s are within the same four walls. The drink is thrown back quickly at her suggestion and he tilts his head as he gulps it down. “Alright, what’s the surprise?” He speaks through grit teeth. It’s not the best vodka. “Did you sneak a burger in here under that dress or something? I’m absolutely starving,” he’s not lying. The alcohol is swirling and slowly down his thoughts quicker than he’d like to admit, and he’s torn between ordering a double, or slowing down.
...
“Well for the record your face looks better with that stupid grin of yours.” The blonde drawls, before doubling back as she raised a manicured finger to point in his direction. “That exact one.“ She teased, though her expression was easily a reflection of the man before her, her own grin somewhat unbreakable. Though it falters ever so slightly at his retort and she waves off the idea of him ever overstepping any of the boundaries they had decisively laid out. Still, the damage is done and as fleeting as the thought may be it’s enough to evoke an instantaneous return of that familiar flutter in her stomach once more, a feeling which only seems to have built in his presence. Instinctively Isabella turns away, fearful of her inability to hide the emotions and on the chance that by some strange miracle he’s able to see right through her. Though she knows that’s impossible and that she should be thankful for the fact, as she fiddles with the hem of her dress in an attempt to cage the butterflies. “Oh please, do tell me where exactly you think I could’ve hidden a burger of all things in this dress because the answer is no, that would be impossible.“ She scoffs, blue-green hues lifting to meet his gaze before lips curl upward once more into yet another broad grin. “No surprise, least it shouldn’t come as a surprise. But you did promise me a good night and that’s always inclusive of a dance or three.“ Only when he downs the remnants of his glass does she turn on her heel and step away from the bar, pausing to steal a glance in his direction to ensure he’s following before she slips a hand into his and tugs. Leading the way through the crowds and into the center of the dancefloor only, she tugs him close, hand departing his to find it’s twin at the base of his neck. “Am I the only one that isn’t exactly eager to eat whatever is being catered, given the last event I did it ended in a mass poisoning.”
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@violetmarino
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ALISON DRAKE:
SHE DOESN’T REMEMBER how she got wrapped up in this conversation, her eyes everywhere but on the person right in front of her. Observing everything, everyone, as the other went on and on, carefully inserting mhms from her own mouth at respective times all until she felt the loop of someone’s arm at her side and was able to make sense of the familiarity of Bella’s voice tugging her along. “Big parties don’t do a good job of keeping people together, too much to explore.” Though she wouldn’t be counting the art exhibit and jazz band as particularly thrilling activities as she silently threw up a prayer to whatever sky god managed to get her out of that completely boring previous conversation. “And please, this is nothing.” She used her opposite hand to go over her dress and let her fingertips trail over beaded embellishments, smoothing them down before gesturing a hand out to the pink number the other had picked out. “I mean, have you seen yourself? I’m surprised your date isn’t trailing behind, nipping at your heels.”
...
“You’re not wrong there.“ Isabella mused as she nodded in agreement. While the party had done an excellent job of making it something of a challenge to track down her closest friends, it hadn’t failed to prevent her from catching sight of her brother whom seemed to be practically moping about the estate. Guilt bubbled in her belly every time the eldest Marino wandered into her line of sight and all too quickly did she turn away, not quite ready to tackle that elephant in the room. An elephant she had yet to share with that of the blonde beside her which only added to the pit of guilt that continued to eat away at her innards. “You’re full of shit, you know that.” Bella quipped, as she shook her head in amusement.” Just take the compliment Allie.“ She added, bumping the others hip playfully with that of her own. The paramedic had always considered her best friend to be something of a fashion icon, the Drake woman could have quite literally warn a potato stack and still outshined a vast number of guests that adorned the finest dresses. “Come on now Allie, you know it’s not like that. We’re here as friends. Same as you and Elenora..” She mused, in an effort to steer the conversation away from that of her date.
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