Post by Mikaela Holden on May 23, 2016 6:49:13 GMT
Location: Private residence, 3 am Saturday into Sunday.
Characters: Tomas Esteban, Mikaela Holden
Mikaela: Three am was reserved for things like booty calls, and murders, right? What this was going to fall under was yet to be determined. Furious, in fact she couldn't quite remember the last time she'd been so fucking mad, after Tomas said he was on his way -- and he didn't live far considering his closeness to the Dive, and her trailer parked right there too. Quickly, and not neatly, so that was something to piss her off more later, she folded the remaining clothes and shoved them into the cabinets they belonged in so they weren't out when Tomas arrived. Not bothering in changing into anything different than what she was already wearing -- the oversized baseball tee that covered her far more than anything she normally wore anyway -- Tomas was going to find her outside; seated at once of the two wrought iron chairs at the little bistro table of the same wrought iron. Just the lights from inside created something to see by out here -- any others might attract bugs, and given the fact she was already annoyed .. No bugs. Annoyed enough too, that she'd dug out a secret stash of something she'd quit full time a good five years ago. So, Tomas found her outside; knees drawn up to her chest and heels against the backs of her thighs, resting on the bottom of her chair -- and the illumination of a cherry glowing red with a drag taken from the cigarette she was allowing herself. Needed to calm those nerves. -d-
Tomas: Tomas didn't get a whole hell of a lot of in-the-middle-of-the-night calls and/or texts that wasn't for some kind of urgent killing matter or other business. There were even less from Mikaela, who he actively tried to avoid seeing in private, keeping their meetings to public events like at the Dive where no one could be suspect for, y'know reasons. But she needed information -- information she had every right to know, all things considered -- and Tomas had it. Notwithstanding whatever information she might have for him, back, he had been dealing with Jake Dennis the last few days and then playing babysitter to his dealers, so he'd been a little out of the loop, all things considered. It didn't take too long for him to get there, maybe a few minutes longer than average, but that easily could have been an exaggeration on the 'omw' portion of his text. Tomas drove small pickup truck with a black, hardtop; it was nothing particular, a silver Chevy, probably a thousand of them just on this island alone, which was the entire point. His lights lit up the side of Mikaela's little trailer, and the young woman, herself, and he frowned, killed the engine, and climbed out. "You smoking?" That's never a good sign. His voice sounded groggy, like he'd been woken up just a short while ago because, y'know, he had been. He'd just grabbed whatever was on the floor, likely what he had worn the day before, a pair of jeans and a wrinkled gray t-shirt, black hair a wild mess from sleep. He helped himself to a seat in the other chair, shifted to dig in his own pocket for his wrinkled pack of smokes and his cheap-ass bic lighter. When in Rome, do as the Romans. It only took a second for him to light up, tossing the pack and the lighter onto the little table, and he sent black eyes in her direction, no other words or condolences offered save his first question. She had questions for him, not the other way around -- aside from that single one he asked.
Mikaela: The problem with waiting, even if it wasn't long at all, it always felt like forever. Mikaela was fidgeting by the time he arrived; picking at the peeling paint of the chair she sat on, there at the edge beside her foot. A deep inhale was taken, just as his headlights cut across from the path wide enough for a vehicle to come through and park -- though she herself rarely used it, preferring to simply park at the Dive and walk through the trees to reach her home. The sudden light caused her features to scrunch against it, but he cut them quick enough, and the acrid smoke in her lungs expelled. "Yup," was all she gave him at first; just watching in the mostly darkness as he made his approach, and landing in the chair cocked out from the table just beside her. He stayed quiet too, and truthfully, she liked that about the man. Appreciated it. It had been what had drawn her to him in the first place, the few times she'd gone there -- no questions asked, no conversation to make later, just get in, get the job done, get outta there, and everything was easy as pie. Tongue dashed it's way to moisten the fullness of her bottom lip, and she drew the filter to her lips again for a slow pull, even slower exhale, and then she finally gave in to the way he was waiting for her to speak. "Whoever took that shipment, somehow Arch got a hold of some of the product, already cut and ready for sale. I don't know who gave it to him. I gave it to Max to find out. I trusted Max to find out, and now no one has seen my father." The man was a notorious drunk -- worthless, if you asked anyone, really. Banned from the bar his own grandfather had opened, that his daughter now ran. Forced his daughter into an adulthood she hadn't been ready for, because he couldn't keep out of the bottle. They'd lost a home, nearly lost this business -- she'd lost her mother. But he was still her father, no matter how Mikaela might hate him. "I haven't gotten a call from the sheriff's department, and it's usually damn near every day they're picking him for public intox. I looked at all his places, nothing. No one has seen him. Not since .. three days ago, someone said he got in a car with Adam Byrne. Will you help me find him? Or at least .. tell me if they've killed him?" Kae was not an emotional person, she didn't give in to tears, or wavery voices or crumbly chins -- and she didn't now, either. No matter how she might feel. Stone cold fox. -d-
Tomas: Like always, Tomas held his Marlbaro deep against the webbing of his fore and middle finger between deep drags. He'd been smoking for years, he was sure that if the business didn't kill him, lung cancer probably would -- although, he didn't smoke more than a pack a day, if he could avoid it. A thoughtful, "Hmm," Escaped his compressed lips at Kae's simple reply, and nothing more was made of it while he indulged in the midnight nicotine. He didn't press. He knew what this was regarding, but he waited for the specifics to come, wandering his gaze out upon her little piece of property, at one point, tilting his head back to exhale the blue-gray smoke into the air above their heads. Shark-like eyes, so dark they were almost dead to some, fell back to her when that soft voice broken the silence between them, and he listened, stone still and silent, save for his thumb kicking the filtered end to lose ash off the end of the cancer stick. He listened all the way through to her question if he would help her, and Tomas frowned a little, took another quick puff and exhaled quickly, all in one huff of smoke. "This has big fucking trouble for Arch written all over it, you realize that, right?" He said, and Tomas leaned forward and snubbed his cigarette out on the ground , staying that way to lean his elbows into his thighs, tilting his head to look at her. "You think Medros is going to be okay with your dad, of all people, trying to sell shit for other people -- our shit, no less?" He just wanted to make sure she understood what she was asking of him. Tomas inhaled oxygen and exhaled it in a huff, tilting his head to look towards his truck in the faint gloomy light that the full moon provided. "I'll see what I can find out," He said after a moment, turning his head back to look at the blonde. "If I was a betting man, I'd say you're not going to like whatever it is I come up with, though." If he hedged his bets, he'd say Arch was long since dead, but stranger things have happened in these parts. Tomas wasn't exactly what people would call more than indifferent to most people within the organization, and he preferred it that way. He was friendly with Adam, Kae -- more than friendly a couple of times -- but most everyone else he kept at a pretty solid arm's length. You can't fear a man if you like him, and he preferred people wonder what he'll do next than assume he'd gone soft. He shook his head again and glanced her way. "I'm not gonna sugar coat it or pull the wool over your eyes either, just so we're on the same page."
Mikaela: Did she think Mederos was going to be okay? No. No she didn't. Not at all in fact. Was it wrong for her to have hoped at least he might be lenient? There was always the possibility that Arch didn't know whoever gave him the drugs had no Network connections -- were in fact, looking to push the Network out. "I don't have to like it, Tomas .. but I need to know. They won't tell me, you know they won't. They'll just let him disappear, and I'll be left wondering if there's anything to bury or if I should even bother." Her hand came up with the cigarette again, but rather than take a puff, she began to chew idly on her thumbnail; staring out into the darkness that surrounded the place. Vision cut back to him, slowly, as he made it clear how they'd be on the same page. Now, she took that drag, letting the nicotine work it's way into her frayed nerves. This was why -- she trusted that fact completely. He'd tell her, he would not mince words. He wouldn't leave out details. Max would want to protect, save her feelings, think she'd break down. Adam would act as if nothing had happened. "I want to know whatever you find out. No matter what it is." Reaching the filter on the cigarette, she snuffed the burning end to death on the ground with a lean to reach it -- not much of one, given her lengthy frame. Taking in a deep breath that had nothing to do with smoke, she sighed it out a moment later, and half turned to face him more. "I don't trust them." -d-
Tomas: "Yeah," He answered quietly, slouching back in the wrought iron chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. "I know." He'd watched it happen before, been a part of it, and then never speaking a word of it to anyone, especially the people asking questions. He watched her from the corner of hooded black eyes, the brightness of the cigarette's cherry lighting up her solemn, stoic features. Tomas considered her for a moment, let his eyes linger over her face in the brief light before it faded when she stopped her pull on the coffin nail and he glanced back out at his truck for a moment, ducking his head to sweep a hand back through the wavy, pillow-tossed black hair, and he simply nodded. She wants to know whatever he finds out, he can agree to those terms. "Didn't hear it from me, though." He told her, matter of fact. It was quiet for a moment, crickets chirping in the distance, and then Mikaela's voice broke the silence, and Tomas all but snapped his head up to look at her, his brows lifting a little bit. "We're criminals, Kae, the whole lot of us. None of us are trustworthy." Which was the truth of the matter, regardless of the 'bond'? the Network provided for everyone. He would just as easily break one of his dealer's or cutter's knees as he would buy them a shot of tequila, like he had for Ernesto the other day. What made him any more trustworthy than anyone else? He studied her for a moment, curious to the point of asking. "Why am I hear and Valentine isn't?" Something told him, a little birdy, perhaps, that if Max got wind of this little interlude -- despite the apparent innocence -- he might not be too thrilled.
Mikaela: Though she understood his need to reiterate the fact that anything he told her was between them, and if she did in fact bring it to light, he was no part of it, it still made her release a hoarse laugh. "I don't want you dead, Tomas. Don't worry. My lips will be forever sealed." She even mimicked the sealing of those pretty lips, with a zip across them and a twist of the lock and the key thrown to the darkness. But then she was shaking her head, and like him, scooped a hand through the thick waves of her hair, twisting them into one other to lay against the front of one shoulder. "I used to think otherwise. I used to be able to know who to trust, who was going to be there when it came down to it, and know .. I don't know, what was what." Fingers idly began to play with the tail ends of the hair that twisted loosely against her breast. His question made her bite into her bottom lip some, scraping it along the flesh, and brows furrowed. "He was. I kicked him out." Or he'd left on his own accord, following the pizza she'd kicked out, but it was all the same to her. "He's not here because he didn't see fit to tell me dick. Except try to give me dick, and yeah, okay. Let me just fuck you, after you basically killed my father." She might have been exaggerating a little there, but it was how she'd seen things. How she felt. Maxwell was involved in that, at a level higher than Tomas even. He was just as much to blame. A hiss came as she inhaled sharply through her nostrils, because generally she made it a rule to keep to herself personal matters such as that, but pissed off Kae had looser lips, it seemed. "It doesn't matter, that's done now." -d-
Tomas: A ghost of a smirk, infinitesimal in nature, easily missed in the darkness danced across his lips, a brow arched in her direction. "I don't want me dead either," He mused. Black eyes watched her pantomiming her locked lips and he snuffed another semblance of a laugh, shaking his head at her like she was nothing but a child. Tomas considered her words again, about who to trust and who not to trust, and he pointed at her across the darkness. "If your dad is knowingly trying to sell shit for somebody else, I'm sorry, Kae, but he gets what he deserves. Any of us would get the same treatment." The dealer sucked back against his teeth in consideration, glancing upwards at the sky a moment. "That being said," His gaze eventually trailing back to her. "Being what you do and who he is, there should be consideration enough to tell you -- even just let you know if he's dead or not. Who knows what he said to Max or Adam or whoever. He could be a singing canary somewhere, sittin' pretty." Sounding so very Brooklyn there for a moment, but it faded, quick. "Likely not the case, but you should still know. One of our own, you deserve that much, even if Arch is a piece of shit." Muscular shoulders rose and fell with a shrug, as if that was the only reason he believed that -- and for all intents and purposes it was. He opened his mouth to stop her, though, when she said she kicked Valentine out. He didn't ... exactly... want to hear all this, but it came out anyway. A 'tch', cut through his teeth at her summation about not telling dick but giving dick. "I heard parental killings is the newest fad aphrodisiac," His tone hitting that dry part of his usually warm, humid, but monotone voice, hinting at a joke. He sighed afte ra moment, shook his head. "He's just doing his job, Mikaela, end of the day. Medros came to me and told me I had to do it, I'd do it too. What is he gonna say? No? Then they kill Valentine and your dad." Double hitter.
Mikaela: "I know," her voice cut in softly beneath his as he spoke of Arch getting his just desserts if he'd done all this on purpose, "I know." Back to chewing on her thumb nail some, watching the shadows play against Tomas' face as he went on. Everything he said made sense -- it was exactly how she felt about the matter. After ten years, wasn't there some kind of loyalty? She'd given all she had to the Network on that line, she could only ask that they give her the same, but it did not look like that was going to be the case. Not at all. The threat of tears stung behind her eyes; leaving her to almost wonder if she got something in her eye and causing her to blink it away, and swallow the emotions that welled up unfamiliar in her throat. One of their own. But a throaty laugh escaped instead of tears, and she shook her head. "Such a piece of shit." There wasn't anything to do but agree to that, it was true. Everyone knew it. He'd earned that reputation for himself, well and good. Unable to just .. sit any longer, Mikaela rose up to her full length; rolling a shoulder as if to stretch it and then shooting him a smirk at his monotonous joke. "Cute." It was warm out here, even at the late hour, even though it was only May. Pushing at the quarter sleeves of her shirt to raise them some -- though they'd only eventually slide back down, she gave a glance to her trailer, and then back to the stoic Puerto Rican when he sighed. The words creased her brow. Dipped her mouth into a the depths of a full lipped frown. "I know that," she spoke softly. "But it doesn't change what it is." -d-
Characters: Tomas Esteban, Mikaela Holden
Mikaela: Three am was reserved for things like booty calls, and murders, right? What this was going to fall under was yet to be determined. Furious, in fact she couldn't quite remember the last time she'd been so fucking mad, after Tomas said he was on his way -- and he didn't live far considering his closeness to the Dive, and her trailer parked right there too. Quickly, and not neatly, so that was something to piss her off more later, she folded the remaining clothes and shoved them into the cabinets they belonged in so they weren't out when Tomas arrived. Not bothering in changing into anything different than what she was already wearing -- the oversized baseball tee that covered her far more than anything she normally wore anyway -- Tomas was going to find her outside; seated at once of the two wrought iron chairs at the little bistro table of the same wrought iron. Just the lights from inside created something to see by out here -- any others might attract bugs, and given the fact she was already annoyed .. No bugs. Annoyed enough too, that she'd dug out a secret stash of something she'd quit full time a good five years ago. So, Tomas found her outside; knees drawn up to her chest and heels against the backs of her thighs, resting on the bottom of her chair -- and the illumination of a cherry glowing red with a drag taken from the cigarette she was allowing herself. Needed to calm those nerves. -d-
Tomas: Tomas didn't get a whole hell of a lot of in-the-middle-of-the-night calls and/or texts that wasn't for some kind of urgent killing matter or other business. There were even less from Mikaela, who he actively tried to avoid seeing in private, keeping their meetings to public events like at the Dive where no one could be suspect for, y'know reasons. But she needed information -- information she had every right to know, all things considered -- and Tomas had it. Notwithstanding whatever information she might have for him, back, he had been dealing with Jake Dennis the last few days and then playing babysitter to his dealers, so he'd been a little out of the loop, all things considered. It didn't take too long for him to get there, maybe a few minutes longer than average, but that easily could have been an exaggeration on the 'omw' portion of his text. Tomas drove small pickup truck with a black, hardtop; it was nothing particular, a silver Chevy, probably a thousand of them just on this island alone, which was the entire point. His lights lit up the side of Mikaela's little trailer, and the young woman, herself, and he frowned, killed the engine, and climbed out. "You smoking?" That's never a good sign. His voice sounded groggy, like he'd been woken up just a short while ago because, y'know, he had been. He'd just grabbed whatever was on the floor, likely what he had worn the day before, a pair of jeans and a wrinkled gray t-shirt, black hair a wild mess from sleep. He helped himself to a seat in the other chair, shifted to dig in his own pocket for his wrinkled pack of smokes and his cheap-ass bic lighter. When in Rome, do as the Romans. It only took a second for him to light up, tossing the pack and the lighter onto the little table, and he sent black eyes in her direction, no other words or condolences offered save his first question. She had questions for him, not the other way around -- aside from that single one he asked.
Mikaela: The problem with waiting, even if it wasn't long at all, it always felt like forever. Mikaela was fidgeting by the time he arrived; picking at the peeling paint of the chair she sat on, there at the edge beside her foot. A deep inhale was taken, just as his headlights cut across from the path wide enough for a vehicle to come through and park -- though she herself rarely used it, preferring to simply park at the Dive and walk through the trees to reach her home. The sudden light caused her features to scrunch against it, but he cut them quick enough, and the acrid smoke in her lungs expelled. "Yup," was all she gave him at first; just watching in the mostly darkness as he made his approach, and landing in the chair cocked out from the table just beside her. He stayed quiet too, and truthfully, she liked that about the man. Appreciated it. It had been what had drawn her to him in the first place, the few times she'd gone there -- no questions asked, no conversation to make later, just get in, get the job done, get outta there, and everything was easy as pie. Tongue dashed it's way to moisten the fullness of her bottom lip, and she drew the filter to her lips again for a slow pull, even slower exhale, and then she finally gave in to the way he was waiting for her to speak. "Whoever took that shipment, somehow Arch got a hold of some of the product, already cut and ready for sale. I don't know who gave it to him. I gave it to Max to find out. I trusted Max to find out, and now no one has seen my father." The man was a notorious drunk -- worthless, if you asked anyone, really. Banned from the bar his own grandfather had opened, that his daughter now ran. Forced his daughter into an adulthood she hadn't been ready for, because he couldn't keep out of the bottle. They'd lost a home, nearly lost this business -- she'd lost her mother. But he was still her father, no matter how Mikaela might hate him. "I haven't gotten a call from the sheriff's department, and it's usually damn near every day they're picking him for public intox. I looked at all his places, nothing. No one has seen him. Not since .. three days ago, someone said he got in a car with Adam Byrne. Will you help me find him? Or at least .. tell me if they've killed him?" Kae was not an emotional person, she didn't give in to tears, or wavery voices or crumbly chins -- and she didn't now, either. No matter how she might feel. Stone cold fox. -d-
Tomas: Like always, Tomas held his Marlbaro deep against the webbing of his fore and middle finger between deep drags. He'd been smoking for years, he was sure that if the business didn't kill him, lung cancer probably would -- although, he didn't smoke more than a pack a day, if he could avoid it. A thoughtful, "Hmm," Escaped his compressed lips at Kae's simple reply, and nothing more was made of it while he indulged in the midnight nicotine. He didn't press. He knew what this was regarding, but he waited for the specifics to come, wandering his gaze out upon her little piece of property, at one point, tilting his head back to exhale the blue-gray smoke into the air above their heads. Shark-like eyes, so dark they were almost dead to some, fell back to her when that soft voice broken the silence between them, and he listened, stone still and silent, save for his thumb kicking the filtered end to lose ash off the end of the cancer stick. He listened all the way through to her question if he would help her, and Tomas frowned a little, took another quick puff and exhaled quickly, all in one huff of smoke. "This has big fucking trouble for Arch written all over it, you realize that, right?" He said, and Tomas leaned forward and snubbed his cigarette out on the ground , staying that way to lean his elbows into his thighs, tilting his head to look at her. "You think Medros is going to be okay with your dad, of all people, trying to sell shit for other people -- our shit, no less?" He just wanted to make sure she understood what she was asking of him. Tomas inhaled oxygen and exhaled it in a huff, tilting his head to look towards his truck in the faint gloomy light that the full moon provided. "I'll see what I can find out," He said after a moment, turning his head back to look at the blonde. "If I was a betting man, I'd say you're not going to like whatever it is I come up with, though." If he hedged his bets, he'd say Arch was long since dead, but stranger things have happened in these parts. Tomas wasn't exactly what people would call more than indifferent to most people within the organization, and he preferred it that way. He was friendly with Adam, Kae -- more than friendly a couple of times -- but most everyone else he kept at a pretty solid arm's length. You can't fear a man if you like him, and he preferred people wonder what he'll do next than assume he'd gone soft. He shook his head again and glanced her way. "I'm not gonna sugar coat it or pull the wool over your eyes either, just so we're on the same page."
Mikaela: Did she think Mederos was going to be okay? No. No she didn't. Not at all in fact. Was it wrong for her to have hoped at least he might be lenient? There was always the possibility that Arch didn't know whoever gave him the drugs had no Network connections -- were in fact, looking to push the Network out. "I don't have to like it, Tomas .. but I need to know. They won't tell me, you know they won't. They'll just let him disappear, and I'll be left wondering if there's anything to bury or if I should even bother." Her hand came up with the cigarette again, but rather than take a puff, she began to chew idly on her thumbnail; staring out into the darkness that surrounded the place. Vision cut back to him, slowly, as he made it clear how they'd be on the same page. Now, she took that drag, letting the nicotine work it's way into her frayed nerves. This was why -- she trusted that fact completely. He'd tell her, he would not mince words. He wouldn't leave out details. Max would want to protect, save her feelings, think she'd break down. Adam would act as if nothing had happened. "I want to know whatever you find out. No matter what it is." Reaching the filter on the cigarette, she snuffed the burning end to death on the ground with a lean to reach it -- not much of one, given her lengthy frame. Taking in a deep breath that had nothing to do with smoke, she sighed it out a moment later, and half turned to face him more. "I don't trust them." -d-
Tomas: "Yeah," He answered quietly, slouching back in the wrought iron chair, drumming his fingers on the arm. "I know." He'd watched it happen before, been a part of it, and then never speaking a word of it to anyone, especially the people asking questions. He watched her from the corner of hooded black eyes, the brightness of the cigarette's cherry lighting up her solemn, stoic features. Tomas considered her for a moment, let his eyes linger over her face in the brief light before it faded when she stopped her pull on the coffin nail and he glanced back out at his truck for a moment, ducking his head to sweep a hand back through the wavy, pillow-tossed black hair, and he simply nodded. She wants to know whatever he finds out, he can agree to those terms. "Didn't hear it from me, though." He told her, matter of fact. It was quiet for a moment, crickets chirping in the distance, and then Mikaela's voice broke the silence, and Tomas all but snapped his head up to look at her, his brows lifting a little bit. "We're criminals, Kae, the whole lot of us. None of us are trustworthy." Which was the truth of the matter, regardless of the 'bond'? the Network provided for everyone. He would just as easily break one of his dealer's or cutter's knees as he would buy them a shot of tequila, like he had for Ernesto the other day. What made him any more trustworthy than anyone else? He studied her for a moment, curious to the point of asking. "Why am I hear and Valentine isn't?" Something told him, a little birdy, perhaps, that if Max got wind of this little interlude -- despite the apparent innocence -- he might not be too thrilled.
Mikaela: Though she understood his need to reiterate the fact that anything he told her was between them, and if she did in fact bring it to light, he was no part of it, it still made her release a hoarse laugh. "I don't want you dead, Tomas. Don't worry. My lips will be forever sealed." She even mimicked the sealing of those pretty lips, with a zip across them and a twist of the lock and the key thrown to the darkness. But then she was shaking her head, and like him, scooped a hand through the thick waves of her hair, twisting them into one other to lay against the front of one shoulder. "I used to think otherwise. I used to be able to know who to trust, who was going to be there when it came down to it, and know .. I don't know, what was what." Fingers idly began to play with the tail ends of the hair that twisted loosely against her breast. His question made her bite into her bottom lip some, scraping it along the flesh, and brows furrowed. "He was. I kicked him out." Or he'd left on his own accord, following the pizza she'd kicked out, but it was all the same to her. "He's not here because he didn't see fit to tell me dick. Except try to give me dick, and yeah, okay. Let me just fuck you, after you basically killed my father." She might have been exaggerating a little there, but it was how she'd seen things. How she felt. Maxwell was involved in that, at a level higher than Tomas even. He was just as much to blame. A hiss came as she inhaled sharply through her nostrils, because generally she made it a rule to keep to herself personal matters such as that, but pissed off Kae had looser lips, it seemed. "It doesn't matter, that's done now." -d-
Tomas: A ghost of a smirk, infinitesimal in nature, easily missed in the darkness danced across his lips, a brow arched in her direction. "I don't want me dead either," He mused. Black eyes watched her pantomiming her locked lips and he snuffed another semblance of a laugh, shaking his head at her like she was nothing but a child. Tomas considered her words again, about who to trust and who not to trust, and he pointed at her across the darkness. "If your dad is knowingly trying to sell shit for somebody else, I'm sorry, Kae, but he gets what he deserves. Any of us would get the same treatment." The dealer sucked back against his teeth in consideration, glancing upwards at the sky a moment. "That being said," His gaze eventually trailing back to her. "Being what you do and who he is, there should be consideration enough to tell you -- even just let you know if he's dead or not. Who knows what he said to Max or Adam or whoever. He could be a singing canary somewhere, sittin' pretty." Sounding so very Brooklyn there for a moment, but it faded, quick. "Likely not the case, but you should still know. One of our own, you deserve that much, even if Arch is a piece of shit." Muscular shoulders rose and fell with a shrug, as if that was the only reason he believed that -- and for all intents and purposes it was. He opened his mouth to stop her, though, when she said she kicked Valentine out. He didn't ... exactly... want to hear all this, but it came out anyway. A 'tch', cut through his teeth at her summation about not telling dick but giving dick. "I heard parental killings is the newest fad aphrodisiac," His tone hitting that dry part of his usually warm, humid, but monotone voice, hinting at a joke. He sighed afte ra moment, shook his head. "He's just doing his job, Mikaela, end of the day. Medros came to me and told me I had to do it, I'd do it too. What is he gonna say? No? Then they kill Valentine and your dad." Double hitter.
Mikaela: "I know," her voice cut in softly beneath his as he spoke of Arch getting his just desserts if he'd done all this on purpose, "I know." Back to chewing on her thumb nail some, watching the shadows play against Tomas' face as he went on. Everything he said made sense -- it was exactly how she felt about the matter. After ten years, wasn't there some kind of loyalty? She'd given all she had to the Network on that line, she could only ask that they give her the same, but it did not look like that was going to be the case. Not at all. The threat of tears stung behind her eyes; leaving her to almost wonder if she got something in her eye and causing her to blink it away, and swallow the emotions that welled up unfamiliar in her throat. One of their own. But a throaty laugh escaped instead of tears, and she shook her head. "Such a piece of shit." There wasn't anything to do but agree to that, it was true. Everyone knew it. He'd earned that reputation for himself, well and good. Unable to just .. sit any longer, Mikaela rose up to her full length; rolling a shoulder as if to stretch it and then shooting him a smirk at his monotonous joke. "Cute." It was warm out here, even at the late hour, even though it was only May. Pushing at the quarter sleeves of her shirt to raise them some -- though they'd only eventually slide back down, she gave a glance to her trailer, and then back to the stoic Puerto Rican when he sighed. The words creased her brow. Dipped her mouth into a the depths of a full lipped frown. "I know that," she spoke softly. "But it doesn't change what it is." -d-
