REDSUGARSOCIETY 1

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<center><h2>CONTACTS</h2>\ Ⅰ. <<message "YOU">> Name: $name $surname <<if hasVisited ("home6")>>Appearance:<<if $hairlength isnot "none">> Your hair is $hairlength, $haircolor and it’s $texture.<<else>> You have no hair.<</if>> You have $skintone skin and $eyes eyes. <</if>><<if hasVisited ("1.12") or hasVisited ("cc2")>>You use <<if $they is "they">>they/them<<elseif $they is "she">>she/her<<elseif $they is "he">>he/him<</if>> pronouns. <<link "Change pronouns?" "Change pronouns?">><</link>> <</if>>\ Nerve: $nerve Your standing with The Elite <<if $rsfavor is 0 and $rssus is 0>>\ You’re only starting out. They don’t have an opinion of you yet. <<elseif $rssus < $rsfavor>>\ You’ve made an impression... but you’re not sure how good one it is. <<elseif $rsfavor > $rssus>>\ They just might like you yet. <<else>>\ You don’t have any clue where you stand with them. <</if>>\ Your standing with The Crew You haven’t met them yet.<</message>> Ⅱ. <<message "MADDOX LA ZAR">> Appearance: Wavy, dark brown, medium-length hair. Tan, olive skin tone and hazel eyes, leaning more towards green. 6’4/193cm with a lanky yet elegant figure. <<if hasVisited('1.7') or hasVisited ("cc2")>> Your relationship with Maddox: <<if $maddox >=0 && $maddox <=9>>\ It’s a miracle you haven’t killed each other yet. <<elseif $maddox >=10 && $maddox <=29>>\ Do you really need to be in the same room with this dick? <<elseif $maddox >=30 && $maddox <=39>>\ You can barely stand each other. <<elseif $maddox >=40 && $maddox <=49>>\ You’re... getting along. For now. <<elseif $maddox >=50 && $maddox <=59>>\ You might be warming up to each other. <<elseif $maddox >=60 && $maddox <=69>>\ Things are looking brighter between you. <<elseif $maddox >=70 && $maddox <=79>>\ You’re friends again. <<elseif $maddox >=80 && $maddox <=89>>\ You’re close. <<elseif $maddox >=90 && $maddox <=99>>\ They adore you. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ <</message>> <<if hasVisited ("parlor13")>>\ Ⅲ. <<message "SANTANA VANHOUDT">> Appearance: Black, chin-length curly hair. Rich, deep brown skin tone and dark brown, almost black, eyes. 5’8/172cm with an average, slightly curvy build. Your relationship with Santana: <<if $santana >=0 && $santana <=9>>\ Eh, not too good… Or good at all. <<elseif $santana >=10 && $santana <=29>>\ Your relationship with $sthem is straining. <<elseif $santana >=30 && $santana <=39>>\ You could be getting along better. <<elseif $santana >=40 && $santana <=49>>\ You don’t feel any particular way about each other at the moment. <<elseif $santana >=50 && $santana <=54>>\ $sThey seems nice enough to you. <<elseif $santana >=55 && $santana <=69>>\ You’ve become friends. <<elseif $santana >=70 && $santana <=79>>\ You’re good friends. <<elseif $santana >=80 && $santana <=89>>\ You’re close. <<elseif $santana >=90 && $santana <=99>>\ $sThey adores you. <</if>>\ <</message>><</if>>\ <<if hasVisited ("parlor25")>>\ Ⅳ. <<message "HARLAN CROW">> Appearance: Short, straight hair, dyed dark gray and styled back. Warm beige skin tone and dark brown eyes. 5’10/177cm with a sturdy, athletic figure. Your relationship with Harlan: <<if $harlan >=0 && $harlan <=19>>\ …Relationship? What relationship? <<elseif $harlan >=20 && $harlan <=29>>\ He acknowledges you exist. Begrudgingly. <<elseif $harlan >=30 && $harlan <=49>>\ He acknowledges you exist. <<elseif $harlan >=50 && $harlan <=69>>\ You might be headed towards friendship…? <<elseif $harlan >=70 && $harlan <=84>>\ You have a feeling he might like to have you around... <<elseif $harlan >=85 && $harlan <=94>>\ You’re friends. <<elseif $harlan >=95 && $harlan <=99>>\ He adores you. <</if>>\ <</message>> <</if>>\ [[BACK TO STORY|$return]]</center>\

/*--main cast--*/ /*--maddox--*/ <<set $maddox to 28>> <<set $mneg to 0>> <<set $mflirt to 0>> <<set $ring to false>> <<set $pda to false>> /*--santana--*/ <<set $santana to 44>> <<set $sneg to 0>> <<set $sflirt to 0>> <<set $sanhard to 0>> /*--harlan--*/ <<set $harlan to 11>> <<set $hflirt to 0>> <<set $hneg to 0>> /*--harlan+maddox--*/ <<set $mh_killam to false>> <<set $mh_reinc1 to false>> <<set $mh_reinc2 to false>> <<set $mh_reinc3 to false>> <<set $reconciliation to false>> <<set $poly to false>> /*--pilot/ep1--*/ <<set $playalong_1 to false>> <<set $playalong_2 to false>> <<set $florqs to 0>> /*--ep2 plot--*/ /*--MC--*/ <<set $nerve to 0>> <<set $surname to "">> /*--MC habits--*/ <<set $jobdriven to false>> <<set $moneydriven to false>> <<set $smoking to false>> <<set $insomniac to false>> /*--others--*/ <<set $rsfavor to 0>> <<set $rssus to 0>> <<set $crew to 0>> <<set $psg to 0>> <<set $chapter to "">> <<set $they to "?">> <<set $them to "?">> <<set $spouse to "">> <<set $attire to "">> /*--other cast--*/ <<set $cgender to either("man", "woman")>> <<if $cgender is "man">><<set $c_they to "he"; $c_their to "his"; $c_them to "him"; $c_theirs to "his"; $c_themself to "himself"; $c_theyre to "he’s"; $c_mx to "Mr"; $c_They to "He"; $c_Their to "His"; $c_Them to "Him"; $c_Theirs to "His"; $c_Themself to "Himself"; $c_Theyre to "He’s">> <<elseif $cgender is "woman">><<set $c_they to "she"; $c_their to "her"; $c_them to "her"; $c_theirs to "hers"; $c_themself to "herself"; $c_theyre to "she’s"; $c_mx to "Ms"; $c_They to "She"; $c_Their to "Her"; $c_Them to "Her"; $c_Theirs to "Hers"; $c_Themself to "Herself"; $c_Theyre to "She’s">><</if>> /*--widgets--*/ <<widget "is">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>are<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>is<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "was">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>were<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>was<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "Is">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>Are<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>Is<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "Was">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>Were<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>Was<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "s">><<if $pronoun eq "they">><<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>s<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "have">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>have<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>has<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "Have">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>Have<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>Has<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "do">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>do<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>does<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "Do">><<if $pronoun eq "they">>Do<<elseif $pronoun eq "she" or "he">>Does<</if>><</widget>> <<widget "hair">><<if $hairlength eq "none">>head<<else>>hair<</if>><</widget>>

<center><img src="https://i.imgur.com/r5brRCl.png" width="74%"> Sit, smile, eat. Leave everything to Maddox, nod along, play along. Don’t worry about anything else. REDSUGARSOCIETY is an episodic interactive story in development where you join forces with a crime lord gone good and the deputy mayor’s child, to put an end to the grand scheme of the corrupted elite in the city of Adafield, all the while trying to keep your co-worker slash babysitter breathing down your neck at bay. One of them might die. Another might betray you. It is your choices that will determine what happens. This story is meant for 18+ audience only. See features and content warnings on the itch.io store page before playing. [[New Save|pilotc]] | <<link "Load Save">><<run UI.saves();>><</link>> | <<link "Settings">><<run UI.settings();>><</link>></center>\

Wisteria Park Penthouse A day later 7 PM “You’re not seriously going,” Baptista calls from the couch as you pace in front of a wall-high mirror, biting the nail of your thumb. “What other choice do I have?” you ask, though you’re not seeking for a real answer, for there is none: you don’t have a choice, that much had been made clear to you. Baptista snorts, drawing your gaze to her. She flips the page of the magazine she’s ‘reading’ lazily, then brushes her short brown hair away from her eyes. “It’s your funeral.” She says it as a joke, but the thing is that it isn’t too far off from the truth. You’ve been in the business of contract killing long enough to know that getting called to jobs like this very well meant that you were about to put your life on the line—well, more so than you usually do. The most you’ve handled so far has been kept to low-profile targets, at most some petty informants giving Killam an occasional headache. Your trigger finger has been vacationing for a good while now though, but you have a feeling it won’t stay that way. One might wonder what is it all for. Some think it’s the money talking. Others say it’s the power; shaking the societal hierarchy simply because you can. But you knew, once you’d seen the name on the contract, that this gig wasn’t even remotely related to anything like that. “It’s Maddox, Baptista,” you say quietly with a sigh. “I have to go.” [[Continue|1.2][$psg to 0]]

“Since when have you given a shit about Maddox la Zar?” Baptista laughs. The deep, melodic sound of it booms in the grand living room, echoing as the furniture around is scarce. “Last time I checked you couldn’t stand that prick.” You roll your eyes, though to be fair, Baptista has a point. You two and Maddox la Zar go way back to high school, and to say that your relationship was tumultuous would be a gross understatement: you wouldn’t have necessarily called them a friend, but you used to run a rather tight ship in your teen years when you simply didn’t know any better, and that only ended up landing you in a handful of trouble more often than not. At least now you’re hurling yourself towards problems with the law by your own volition, and not by virtue of Maddox’s whims—which you often were completely unaware of, to make it even better. Long story short, your so-called friendship came to crossroads by the end of high school. Three years had passed and during that time, you’d grown more to resent Maddox for dragging you down with them (though you’re well aware of the irony of having ended up on the same, not good, side of the law as them eventually) than blindly admire them, unlike the rest of your classmates who viewed Maddox as something closer to a living legend. While you can’t entirely pin the blame on la Zar, there is no denying that your involvement with them played some part in your current choice of work industry. And getting fucked over by the same person time after time does tend to leave a shit taste in your mouth. “I don’t,” you defend against Baptista’s question, “but we’re—old acquaintances, or something. And it wasn’t like I could refuse, since they explicitly asked for me.” [[Continue|1.3]]

Baptista faux-retches loudly, drawing a humorless laugh from you. You’d argue that Maddox isn’t the worst person to exist, but knowing what you know of them, your case would fall to pieces faster than a house made of glass. You point your finger at Baptista, wiggling it in the air. “You might wanna think twice about hurling on the couch, pal. This isn’t my apartment.” “Yeah, I’d noticed,” she mumbles, now lifting her eyes from the magazine to look around, as if you hadn’t already been here for a good while. “Whose place is it anyway?” Oh, yeah. “About that…” Your eyes meet Baptista’s in the mirror. You try to hold her stare, but can’t quite stop the quick wince, which has her raising a brow slowly at you. Your name has never been said with such preemptive judgment. [[“Marion…”|1.4][$name to "Marion"]] (Default) Something else. <<textbox "$name" "" "1.4">> [[Continue|1.4]]

“$name… Whose place is it?” You busy yourself by picking the <<cycle "$attire" autoselect>> <<option "sleeve of your dress shirt" "suit">> <<option "hem of your dress" "dress">> <</cycle>>. When Baptista’s sharp stare doesn’t budge away from you, your shoulders fall with defeat and you turn away from the mirror with a groan. “It’s Maddox’s apartment,” you admit then. Baptista shoots up to sit, eyes widening at your answer. “And just what are we doing here?” she asks, glancing nervously around. “We’re not breaking and entering, are we? $name, I swear to God if you made me break into the house of that—” “Oh, calm down, will you?” you grunt, “I’m staying here. Just for a while.” You cross the room over to Baptista, and you slump down on the couch next to her, huffing out a sharp sigh. She shakes her head, brows dipping into a confused frown. “That doesn’t answer my question,” she points out. “Why the hell are you staying at Maddox’s apartment? Don’t you have a place of your own?” You scoff out an awkward laugh. “Well, yeah but—it’s easier this way. To keep up the appearances.” Baptista levels a blank stare at you, seemingly waiting for you to elaborate further. You sigh. “The gig they hired me to help with? It’s kind of…” You frown as you try to think of the right word, “Discreet.” “I’d figured,” she mumbles. “They want me to provide an alibi for them,” you explain. “The more we’re seen together, the better.” Baptista’s brows arch up. “And why would Maddox need an alibi?” You click your tongue and let out a dry chuckle. “Why does la Zar usually need one, Baptista?” For a moment, she doesn’t say anything, eyes flickering up and down your face while taking on a worried look to them. Then she flashes you a smile—not genuine, you can tell, as it doesn’t reach her dark blue eyes, and clears her throat. “Well, at least this time you know what you’re getting into,” she says quietly, trying to keep the frown trying to tug down her features off her face. “Right?” You wish you could sincerely assure her. You really do. “Yeah.” You set a hand atop hers and give a few comforting pats. “You’re right.” [[Continue|1.5]]

Deputy Mayor Vanhoudt’s House 8.41 PM Shit. Your hands are sweating. You stare down the humongous double doors at the end of the over-decorated hallway, trying to swipe your hands into the fabric of your $attire to rid their clamminess. You knew—you knew this wasn’t going to be the easiest job, but you hadn’t expected to feel quite this uncomfortable: your chest feels heavy with anxiety, and you try to draw a slow breath in to calm your nerves, but it ends up being with rather futile results. Your shoulders shoot up to your ears when a hand suddenly sets on one of them. You snap to look over it with a wince, but it is quickly replaced with an annoyed grimace as a mocking snicker sounds from behind you. “You go in looking like that, love, and they’ll eat you alive.” You bite back a growl at the use of the pet name, trying to calm down your ruffled feathers as you remind yourself that it’s something you’ll just have to get used to. When you were relaying the job description to Baptista earlier, leaving it innocently at “providing an alibi” for la Zar (if you could ever call that truly innocent), you’d left out a tiny little detail about just what exactly that entailed. “Love? Seriously?” you scowl at Maddox. They smirk at you, shrugging. “What would you prefer me to call you then?” they ask. “Darling, my dearest? Sweetheart?” You’re just about to groan when other guests of Vanhoudt walk past you. You force a polite smile on your face, sidling up closer to Maddox, their hand falling away from your shoulder as you do. You tilt your face up—you didn’t remember they were this tall—and lower your voice. “Care to tell me why you want me to play your <<cycle "$spouse" autoselect>> <<option "spouse" "spouse">> <<option "wife" "wife">> <<option "husband" "husband">> ... <</cycle>> in front of the most powerful people in Adafield?” you ask, still upholding what you imagine is a pained-looking, tight smile on your face. “Wouldn’t something more casual have sufficed?” “Eh.” Maddox shrugs again. “I have a reputation, $name.” “Which is exactly why I’m asking, Maddox,” you retort. [[Continue|1.6][$psg to 0]]

As more people flow past you towards the dining room at the end of the hallway, Maddox takes you gently by the arm and pulls you aside. You yank yourself free of their hold once there is a solid distance between you and the other guests, which only causes Maddox to lift an amused brow at you. “Explain,” you hiss through gritted teeth. “Why me?” Maddox lets out a quick, breathy laugh, and you sense an air of dismissal too familiar to you from the past coming. “$name, listen…” “No, you listen, la Zar.” You turn to face them properly, scowling. “You asked for me by name, and I don’t know what you’ve got on me or my boss, but it was made very clear to me that I couldn’t say no.” A crooked grin spreads on Maddox’s face. “Your point?” “I—” You scoff in disbelief. “I haven’t seen you in almost ten years, and now you suddenly show up and—every time you’re around, it’s me who ends up in deep shit. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what happened in high school.” Maddox tilts their head to the side. The coy gesture feels almost insulting. “What happened again?” Your mouth drops open. “You’re not serious.” Their questioning expression doesn’t waver the least—either they are messing with you or then they really don’t have the faintest idea what you’re on about, the mere thought of that possibility having your annoyance peak at a brand new level. It takes a whole lot of willpower to keep your voice down to a harsh whisper. “You had me smuggle drugs to school without my knowing about it,” you growl, “you fucking dick. I was grounded for months.” You pause to catch your breath sharply as Maddox takes half a step closer to you while running a hand through their wavy brown hair, seeming almost bored by your sudden outburst, though a hint of a taunting smirk teases at their lips. “Are you finished?” they ask, their voice dropped to a low murmur. You swallow—if with difficulty, your throat suddenly dry. That seems to be answer enough for Maddox. “I asked for you because I know you, $name, simple as that. Do you think I can just pick up some random stranger from the street for a job like this?” “I don’t even know what—” you begin to point out, but Maddox silences you with a raised hand. “I will explain everything after tonight, love,” they say, and you can’t quite hold back the grimace that comes following the word again. “Rest assured you will come to no harm.” What the—? “I will come to no harm?” you repeat, but Maddox is already turning away from you, making to leave for the dining room. “What’s that supposed to--Maddox!” But despite your retort, they don’t stop in their tracks. You have no other option but to scramble after them. [[Continue|1.7]] <<notify 3s>>Contacts unlocked<</notify>>\ <<set $relationships to true>>\

<<if $psg is 0>>\ They stop just shy of reaching the open doors, leaving enough room for others to pour past you. Maddox takes a peek inside, half-smiling to themself in a manner that tells you that they’re pleased with whatever it is that they’re checking the premises out for. They don’t look at you when they speak, “Did Killam give you the rundown on the backstory?” You roll your eyes and grumble out a reluctant yes. “Met in high school, reconnected a year ago, married last month,” you recall, “kept the relationship under wraps because of what you do.” “Did,” they correct, now turning to look at you, much more pointedly than you expected them to. “Don’t forget that.” You frown; you didn’t think that Maddox would be stressing such a random point so strongly, but in all fairness, you also have no idea what they’ve told to the people waiting inside. “Fine, whatever,” you huff. “What you did.” Maddox gives you a pleased nod, then angling away from you again to watch on the crowd forming in the dining room. “Good. We’ll talk over the details later.” You follow the line of their gaze inside. Suddenly you’re very aware of the fact that not only are you here on what can only be described as the most fucking bizarre job you’ve ever had so far, you also are very much out of your element, seeing as you’re a guest at a dinner party hosted by the deputy mayor of your city. Your heart beats a tad faster at that thought, and you have to force down another nervous swallow. “How do I look?” The question flies out of your mouth before you can remind yourself of who the person answering it will be. Maddox’s sharp gaze snaps to you. “You’d care for my opinion?” they ask, a languid smirk lengthening their lips. “How truly flattering.” [[You give a sarcastic smile. “Don’t get used to it.”|1.7][$psg++; $maddox +=2; $react to "1"]] [[You don’t answer, holding their stare.|1.7][$psg++; $maddox +=1; $react to "2"]] [[You roll your eyes, just about holding back the impending “Fuck off.”|1.7][$psg++; $mneg +=0.15; $react to "3"]] <<else>>\ <<if $react is "1">>\ You twist your lips into a forceful curve that doesn’t hide the fact that it’s everything but sincere. “I wouldn’t get too used to it if I were you.” Maddox raises a brow at you as a delighted grin rises on their mouth, seeming most appreciative of the snarky response. “Then I’ll make sure to treasure this rare moment you’ve granted me for the rest of my life.” Ha. You’d laugh if their answer didn’t leave you absolutely dumbfounded. You remember Maddox being like this back when you ran in the same circles, and you can’t say that you’re surprised to see that they have not changed from those times. It’s just annoying, to say the least, that you’re left without a solid comeback, though you’re quite sure that there will be plenty of opportunities for those in the future. “Just answer the question, Maddox,” you sigh in defeat. [[Continue|1.8][$psg to 0]] <<elseif $react is "2">>\ You hold Maddox’s stare, making the very conscious decision of not deigning to answer their obvious taunting. They seem to take the hint fast enough, clicking their tongue as though disappointed by your ongoing silence. “You know,” they start, casting an appraising look over you, though you think you see a tinge of amusement in their eyes as well, “we’re going to have a very difficult time convincing people we’re together if you refuse to talk to me.” This time you do take the bait. “Maybe you should’ve picked someone else.” Maddox merely smirks. “And miss out on the incredible fun that is keeping your company? I could never.” Whatever response you had locked and loaded dies at your lips, and you end up blowing out a half-frustrated, half-weary sigh instead. “Just answer the question, Maddox.” [[Continue|1.8][$psg to 0]] <<elseif $react is "3">>\ It takes all your might to hold back from snapping at them, so instead, you channel the frustration boiling within you into rolling your eyes and pinching your lips together into a tight line. Maddox keeps their stare trained on you with what seems to be growing curiosity, while you respond to their ogling with narrowed eyes and deep, deep silence. After a moment, they click their tongue and let out what sounds like a disappointed sigh. Still, they seem to decide against pushing you further – and thank goodness for that, because you honestly can’t say with certainty what you would’ve done had they decided otherwise. It probably wouldn’t have been anything rational in any case. [[Continue|1.8][$psg to 0]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

<<if $psg is 0>>\ Maddox eventually acquiesces, creating a small distance between the two of you to take a proper look. Their hazel eyes are tinted brown in the warm light of the hallway, moving slowly over you. You shift in your place under the unease caused by their assessing gaze. Just when you’re about to tell them to get on with it, Maddox takes a step towards you, head tilted to the side and brows dipped into a furrow. “So rigid,” they murmur. “I’m sorry?” Maddox’s eyes meet yours. “I said you’re rigid. You look like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell.” You scowl. “Excuse me?” They ignore your little retort, lifting their hand to rub their chin thoughtfully—then they suddenly reach out for you with one finger pointed. They tap your left shoulder swiftly, “Shoulders down,” and you drop them instinctually upon the quick touch. Then Maddox pokes a finger under your chin. “Up,” they say, and you tilt your face up as instructed. “Better. Not good, but better. You will have to work on your posture, or at least try to relax a little.” The tip of Maddox’s finger lingers under your jaw, as does their inspecting gaze on your features. Even though the contact is minimal, you can feel the warmth of their skin against your own, and… [[…unfortunately, it has you flustering. Fuck.|1.8][$psg++; $mflirt +=0.5; $maddox +=2; $react2 to "1"]] [[…it causes no reaction aside from mild annoyance in you.|1.8][$psg++; $react2 to "2"]] [[…it has you take a step away from them.|1.8][$psg++; $mneg +=0.15; $react2 to "3"]] <<else>>\ <<if $react2 is "1">>\ You wish there was some kind of off-switch for attraction. It’s not like you want to be attracted to Maddox, but with their heavy-lidded gaze trained on you so keenly, you can’t help feeling a little weak at the knees. Suddenly the buzz around them in high school makes total and complete sense to you. Your momentary weakness unfortunately doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by them: a satisfied half-smirk lifts Maddox’s lips as they gauge your poorly hidden reaction, and they let their touch linger on you for even longer, which only has another wave of heat rushing up to your cheeks. “Pretty,” they murmur under their breath. You think the compliment is more of an errant thought said to themself than to you--yet it has your breath catch in the back of your throat regardless. Oh, you hate this. [[Continue|1.9][$psg to 0]] <<elseif $react2 is "2">>\ You let Maddox take their time scrutinizing you, though you can’t say you do it with pleasure. But you get it: you need every advice and tip you can get – if only to make this whole situation a little bit more bearable for yourself. The smoother things go, the faster you’re out of here. Or so you hope. “Well?” you ask slowly, tension sharpening your voice. Maddox’s hand drops down to their side, and as they move back, they give you a slight nod you assume is of approving sort. “You look good,” they say. You nod back, weirdly relieved to hear that. [[Continue|1.9][$psg to 0]] <<elseif $react2 is "3">>\ You recoil immediately, and Maddox snaps their hand back, moving a step away themself. You’re surprised to see a genuinely (or so you think) apologetic expression form on their face. “I’m sorry,” they say. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Your jaw clenches, and you have to take a moment and a quick breath in to cool yourself enough to give them a stiff nod. “No harm done,” you mutter as you shift your eyes away from them, somewhat appreciative that they at least have the common sense to seem remorseful. You see Maddox nod in return from the corner of your eye. “You look good, by the way.” You glance at them, but look away just as fast. “Thanks.” [[Continue|1.9][$psg to 0]] <</if>>\ <</if>>\

Okay. Breathe. Here we go. Some minutes later, most of the seats around the table have been claimed, only a few here and there left empty. You quickly count around thirty guests—which surprises you a little, the masses from earlier having felt considerably more. As a handful of waitresses begin to circle the table, to serve water and getting everyone’s drink orders in, you notice that the hosts themselves still haven’t shown up. Rather tacky, to be late to your own— “How rude,” you hear Maddox click their tongue next to you. As you tilt your face to them, you notice them checking their watch, apparently sharing the thought, though they don’t finish it out loud. You can’t help smiling a bit to yourself, even if you end up fighting it off your face before they can notice it. “I didn’t think you’d be so keen on manners,” you lean over to whisper, drawing a quiet but sharp laugh from Maddox. They smooth down the front of their black (and, frankly, offensively open) dress shirt, then angling closer and dropping their voice. “Manners maketh man,” Maddox murmurs. They drape an arm on the back of your seat, careful not to touch you in the process yet still looming over you even when seated. “Might as well seize the opportunity.” They subtly nod over at the other people. “How many do you recognize?” [[Continue|1.10][$psg to 0]]

<<if $psg is 0>>\ “Like, how many I can name?” you ask, to which Maddox nods. As you make to shift even closer to them, to secure the privacy of your conversation, you notice their other hand resting near yours on the dining table. [[Set your hand on top of theirs.|1.10][$rsfavor++; $playalong_1 to true; $psg++]] [[Keep your hands to yourself.|1.10][$rssus++; $playalong_1 to false; $psg++]] <<else>>\ <<if $playalong_1 is true>>\ Well, you knew you’d have to start playing your part sooner or later, and you figure it’s best to throw yourself into it as early as you can. The thought of touching Maddox in such a manner, especially with your past and with all the years that have passed since, is a little unnerving, but it’s not the worst job you’ve ever had. You’ll live. Hopefully. In as casual a fashion as you can muster out of yourself, you slide your hand to cover theirs. Maddox doesn’t as much as bat an eye, though you think you can read mild satisfaction on their face at you making the first move. They let their thumb brush over your knuckles slowly, but keep their gaze pointedly away from you. The glinting, golden metal of their ring, the one on their thumb, feels cold against your warming skin. You can’t fight off the thought of how much the simple contact sets you weirdly at ease, even if it’s coming from Maddox. You hear them murmur, “Don’t push yourself for my sake.” “I work for you,” you remind in just as low a voice. You notice their lips quirk up a bit. “And I appreciate the instant effort, but I want you to take your time to get comfortable.” Maddox then turns to face you, sliding their hand away. “We’ve only just begun. You have time to get accustomed.” Not sure what to say to that, you give them a slow nod instead. [[Continue|1.11]] <<elseif $playalong_1 is false>>\ You doubt it will make much difference even if you didn’t start the charades right away. It’s only night one on the job, and Maddox hasn’t exactly been insistent for you to kick off the play from the get-go. You give yourself the permission to take it easy for the time being— given that you’ll probably be on this gig for weeks anyway, you reckon there is no reason to dive into it headfirst. [[Continue|1.11]] <</if>>\ <</if>>

Before you can completely refocus yourself, you feel a faint tap at your shoulder. You turn around to meet a middle-aged woman you don’t recognize seated next to you. She must’ve slipped past your notice in the hustle and bustle of finding your seats a moment ago. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she starts with a polite smile. <<if $playalong_1 is true>>“I just wanted to say that you two make a darling couple.” Your mouth drops open, and you desperately try to rack your brain for any kind of response, yet absolutely nothing comes out. You hear Maddox laugh quietly on your other side, and as your bewildered silence drags on, they lean over—assumingly to cover for your gawking ass. “Thank you, Mrs. Monrow,” they say. “You’ll have to excuse my $spouse’s silence. <<cycle "$pronoun" autoselect>> <<option "They’re" "they">> <<option "She’s" "she">> <<option "He’s" "he">> ... <</cycle>> not used to… gatherings like this just yet.” You’d say that it’s the understatement of the century, but at least it gets the woman to turn away with an understanding nod and a pleased smile. [[Continue|1.12][$psg to 0]]<<elseif $playalong_1 is false>>“You’re Maddox’s $spouse, right? It’s so nice to finally meet you. They have gone on and on about you for weeks.” Your mouth drops open, and you force out a dry chuckle, “Have they now?” When you look over your shoulder back at Maddox, you spot an almost sheepish half-smile on their face. “What kind of spouse would I be if I do not parade around my greatest accomplishment?” they ask, a playful glint in their eyes as they look at you. You hold back rolling yours, if only barely. “I only regret I haven’t been able to introduce <<cycle "$pronoun" autoselect>> <<option "them" "they">> <<option "him" "he">> <<option "her" "she">> ... <</cycle>> to you sooner, Mrs. Monrow.” Your eyes narrow as Maddox grins at you. Turning back to the woman, you catch her breathe out a soft, adoring sigh, hand setting on her chest. To your relief, she says nothing more, returning to her earlier conversation with her companion. [[Continue|1.12][$psg to 0]] <</if>>\

“Jesus,” you mutter under your breath. “Could really use that drink right about now.” Maddox laughs, a sympathetic tone to their voice. “You’ll get used to it. Now,” they check their watch again, and you see them shake their head slightly, “let’s try to get you up to speed about our fellow guests quickly.” They then nod subtly towards a man seated on the opposite side, a little to your left. “Recognize him?” The man—around his forties, you’d guess—has a stiff posture and a stern expression on his face, graying mousey brown hair styled neatly back. Wrinkles surround his dark green eyes, and the pale tone of his skin is even duller against the rich deep blue of his suit, leaving him looking rather lifeless. There is something familiar about him you can’t put your finger on right away—but after a moment of ruminating, recognition hits you. “Police Captain Welles,” you say quietly. Next to you, Maddox hums approvingly. “Good. And the woman next to him?” She seems around the same age as the captain, dark brown hair tied into a neat braid. Unlike Welles, her skin is a glowing, golden brown tone that is only accentuated by her crimson red dress and the extravagant gold jewelry she wears. Her eyes are narrow and nearly as dark as her hair, gaze sharp while deep in conversation with who you assume is her wife, seated on her other side. “Loriann Cruz.” You frown. “Killam has had some dealings with her before. She’s some kinda big-time pharma executive, right?” “Correct,” Maddox murmurs. “I’ll tell you more about it later, but for now, I want you to keep your eye on those two. Closely.” Something about the way they say that has a trickle of dread creeping up on you—a slow beginning of a realization that you can’t shake off now that it has begun to dawn on you. “Maddox,” you whisper, and your voice quivers slightly, “what are we—what are you really doing here?” They don’t answer you at first, not even when you turn to look at them, keeping their eyes trained on the two instead. Any sign of a smile, smirk, or a grin that had just been on their lips, is now nowhere to be seen. The sudden lack of all expression on them sends a cold shiver down your spine. Then, they finally face you, and you find yourself almost wishing that they hadn’t. The sharpness of their stare that bores into you is too familiar, too recognizable from the many times you’d had witnessed it all those years ago. It’s one you wished you wouldn’t be met with again. “What I do best, love.” [[Continue|1.13]] <<if $pronoun is "she">><<set $they to "she"; $their to "her"; $them to "her"; $theirs to "hers"; $themself to "herself"; $theyre to "she’s"; $mx to "Ms"; $They to "She"; $Their to "Her"; $Them to "Her"; $Theirs to "Hers"; $Themself to "Herself"; $Theyre to "She’s">>\ <<elseif $pronoun is "he">><<set $they to "he"; $their to "his"; $them to "him"; $theirs to "his"; $themself to "himself"; $theyre to "he’s"; $mx to "Mr"; $They to "He"; $Their to "His"; $Them to "Him"; $Theirs to "His"; $Themself to "Himself"; $Theyre to "He’s">>\ <<elseif $pronoun is "they">><<set $they to "they"; $their to "their"; $them to "them"; $theirs to "theirs"; $themself to "themself"; $theyre to "they’re"; $mx to "Mx"; $They to "They"; $Their to "Their"; $Them to "Them"; $Theirs to "Theirs"; $Themself to "Themself"; $Theyre to "They’re">>\ <</if>>\

Before you can answer, the chatter around you suddenly quietens, everyone’s attention drawn to the entrance of the dining room and the person who has emerged there. They approach the guests seated at the very front of the table, crouching down to speak to them in what seems an apologetic manner, briefly shaking hands with some of them before moving on. Maddox’s attention, too, has shifted away from you, their voice a satisfied purr, “Finally.” Then it clicks—of course. Deputy mayor Vanhoudt. You try to shake off the lingering trepidation from whatever it was that happened a moment ago, focusing on Vanhoudt. They can’t be older than fifty, and even that feels an exaggerated guess as you take notice of their full, black hair and a rather youthful, bright tan complexion. Years have treated them well, that much is sure. Though Maddox had seemed pleased at their appearance just now, you notice a faint frown swiftly taking over the previous expression. “What’s wrong?” you lean over to ask. They lift their hand. “Wait.” You crinkle your nose at the dismissal, but Maddox’s undivided focus on the entrance has your curiosity lifting its head. So, you wait. [[Continue|1.14]]

A long minute passes. Deputy mayor Vanhoudt continues making their rounds around the table, but Maddox’s eyes remain glued to the door. “Where are you…?” you hear them mutter to themself. You begin to grow restless under the budding anticipation, only wondering who in these particular circles could be of such interest to them. Maddox taps their fingers against the table, then lifting their hand to run it through the dark waves of their hair. They tuck the brown curls behind their ear with careful precision, eyes flickering between the entrance and the deputy mayor getting closer to you by the second. Then, after what has felt like an eternity but is merely another minute after, a figure finally emerges at the doors. You hear them breathe out softly, “Ah. There you are.” You redirect your attention to where theirs already lies, and seeing the much-expected guest (or, not a guest, in this case), surprise overtakes you. “Santana Vanhoudt?” you whisper in disbelief, immediately recognizing the... [[...young woman, glancing around the room nervously.|1.15][$sthey to "she"; $stheir to "her"; $sthem to "her"; $stheirs to "hers"; $sthemself to "herself"; $stheyre to "she’s"; $smx to "Ms"; $spronoun to "she"; $sThey to "She"; $sTheir to "Her"; $sThem to "Her"; $sTheirs to "Hers"; $sThemself to "Herself"; $sTheyre to "She’s"; $sTheyve to "She’s"; $stheyve to "she’s"; $schild to "daughter"; $mijx to "mija"; $sser to "miss"; $sSer to "Miss"]] [[...young man, glancing around the room nervously.|1.15][$sthey to "he"; $stheir to "his"; $sthem to "him"; $stheirs to "his"; $sthemself to "himself"; $stheyre to "he’s"; $smx to "Mr"; $spronoun to "he"; $sThey to "He"; $sTheir to "His"; $sThem to "Him"; $sTheirs to "His"; $sThemself to "Himself"; $sTheyre to "He’s"; $sTheyve to "He’s"; $stheyve to "he’s"; $schild to "son"; $mijx to "mijo"; $sser to "sir"; $sSer to "Sir"]] <<link "...young person, glancing around the room nervously. (Randomize)" "1.15">><<set $spronoun to either("he", "she")>> <<if $spronoun is "he">><<set $sthey to "he"; $stheir to "his"; $sthem to "him"; $stheirs to "his"; $sthemself to "himself"; $stheyre to "he’s"; $smx to "Mr"; $spronoun to "he"; $sThey to "He"; $sTheir to "His"; $sThem to "Him"; $sTheirs to "His"; $sThemself to "Himself"; $sTheyre to "He’s"; $sTheyve to "He’s"; $stheyve to "he’s"; $schild to "son"; $mijx to "mijo"; $sser to "sir"; $sSer to "Sir">> <<elseif $spronoun is "she">><<set $sthey to "she"; $stheir to "her"; $sthem to "her"; $stheirs to "hers"; $sthemself to "herself"; $stheyre to "she’s"; $smx to "Ms"; $spronoun to "she/her"; $sThey to "She"; $sTheir to "Her"; $sThem to "Her"; $sTheirs to "Hers"; $sThemself to "Herself"; $sTheyre to "She’s"; $sTheyve to "She’s"; $stheyve to "she’s"; $schild to "daughter"; $mijx to "mija"; $sser to "miss"; $sSer to "Miss">><</if>><</link>>

There are only so many things known about Santana Vanhoudt: that $stheyre the deputy mayor’s only child, in $stheir mid-twenties, and that $stheyve been kept strictly away from the public eye—at least up until now. You certainly didn’t expect to see $sthem here, though Maddox seems to have had the exact opposite expectations. $sTheyre soft-featured, and you catch the slightest tremor of $stheir hand as $sthey brushes aside a runaway lock of black hair. $sTheir rather obvious unease makes you feel almost sorry for $sthem, although you’d expect $sthem to be used to these kinds of events. “Why are you interested in Santana?” you ask, keeping your voice down. Then the weird moment with Maddox comes back to you, and your eyes widen. “You’re not going to hurt $sthem, are you?” They shake their head. “No.” Then, as they tilt their head back to you, a long, nearly sinister grin spreads on their lips. “I want to hire $sthem.” <center>[[End Episode|ep1c][$psg to 0]]</center>\

<center><img src="https://i.imgur.com/HPKHwEr.png" width="65%"> Thank you for playing REDSUGARSOCIETY! Got something on your mind regarding the game? Check out the links below. Game development blog: [[REDSUGARSOCIETY (Tumblr)|https://redsugarsociety.tumblr.com]] Bug and typo reports: [[Riotdevs (Tumblr)|https://riotdevs.tumblr.com]]</center> <center><<back "Return to previous passage">> The project is currently on hold (3/7/2023)</center>\

The Dinner 9.36 PM “You want to hire $sthem.” “Yes.” “You want to hire Santana—the $schild of the deputy mayor. You.” Maddox repeats, “Yes.” You blink. Thank fucking goodness the waiters had served your drinks just a moment ago. You turn to your glass of wine, not caring one bit about the judgmental looks you get from the other guests as you hurriedly lift it to your lips and take a hearty gulp in a hopeless attempt to drown the instant mixed wave of panic, exasperation and—well, just desperation, really—with it. You try to keep your hold of the glass stable as you set it back down on the table, pinching the bridge of your nose with your free hand. “Oh my god.” Your deep, drawn-out sigh comes out more of a whine. If you’re being really honest, and if you really think about it, panic, exasperation, and desperation don’t even begin to describe how you feel right now. “You’re fucking insane.” You don’t need to look at Maddox to know that they’re grinning, hearing it crystal clear in their voice. “Mm. Not the worst thing I’ve been called.” “Oh, I can top that, if that’s what you’re—” “$name.” They say your name with such sudden heaviness, you drop your hand and turn to face them—no matter how much you’d like not to do so. Maddox meets your eye with a surprising amount of something like sympathy in theirs. “You have nothing to worry about,” they say. “Trust me when I tell you I have it all figured out.” You give them a wry smile. “You realize I trust you about as far as I can throw you.” Maddox’s head tilts back with the low laugh they let out. “Ah, I guess that’s fair enough.” [[Continue|dinner2][$psg to 0]] <<set $chapter to "Episode One">>\

The Parlor Post-Dinner Two agonizingly long hours later “Did our friend show?” The room is abuzz with people, even with most of the guests having left after the dinner. A silver-haired man looms in the far corner, away from others, a phone held to his ear. Scanning the premises with an eagle-sharp stare, he soon finds what he’s looking for, then angles away from the remaining crowd. “Yes,” he mutters. “They’re here.” “And Cedar?” He takes a quick glance over his shoulder. A frown has his brows dip for the merest moment before it washes away, leaving him expressionless once more. “Yes,” he repeats. “$Theyre here too.” “Good.” A moment of silence takes place. “Stay focused. Eyes on the prize, Crow.” He hesitates, gaze dropping down to his feet. “...Yes, ma’am.” [[Continue|parlor2][$psg to 0]]

“What’s the point of having drinks after dinner?” you groan as Maddox drags you along them through the throng of people further inside the parlor, your arm linked with theirs. “It’s called socializing, $name,” they smirk at you. “Call it what you want, but half of the people left,” you point out, “so what are we still doing here?” They come to a sudden halt, almost jerking you back with them. You just about suffocate the yelp that threatens to escape you, turning around to shoot a questioning look at Maddox. They say nothing, only raising a brow at you and nodding at nothing in particular, but it gets you to take a look around you. The first two people you notice are also the ones you easily recognize from the dinner just now: the police captain along with pharma executive Cruz, engaged in what seems to be a rather tense conversation with each other. Wonder what that’s about, you think to yourself. “I do not envy Welles,” Maddox says from behind you, letting out a small sigh following the statement. As though having heard your thoughts, they continue, “I doubt the money Cruz shoves at him to look the other way makes up for the headache of avoiding the questions of his superiors.” You take a step back closer to them. “Questions?” Maddox nods thoughtfully. “You’ve probably heard how city’s drug usage and street distribution are at an all-time high,” they hum, smiling, though you think it’s a bit strained, “especially around Lafayette and Westhill Commons—both Welles’ precinct.” Yeah, you remember reading about it. New product appearing what seems to be out of thin air yet spreading like wildfire. Every lead and tip the department has gotten has led to nowhere, and the few futile attempts at drug busts have been just that: futile attempts. “Loriann’s work,” Maddox continues with a weak grimace. “She’s had Welles in her pocket a while now. Allows her to operate around the neighborhoods as she pleases.” Ah, of course. You bite down your lip. “Quitting on Cruz probably isn’t an option for him.” “Yes and no. He could bust the whole thing wide open if he wanted to,” Maddox says, rolling back their shoulders. “But he won’t.” “Why?” “Cruz has friends in… questionable places, and of a certain stature. You know how these things are.” They grin wryly at you, then shrug. “And he has a bounty on his head—well, not a bounty. A hit on-hold, if you will.” You raise your brows at them. “And how do you know all this?” Their grin lengthens and they tap the side of their nose, leaving your question otherwise unanswered. Oh. You roll your eyes. Of course. [[“Is this how it’s gonna be all the time?”][$maddox -=1]] [[Let it go. No sense pushing it now.][$maddox +=2]] [[“One more time, and I just might break your finger.”][$maddox +=1]]

The two of you remain standing in the middle of the parlor, and you take the opportunity to drink in your surroundings. The room isn’t as big as you’d thought it’d be, but the ambiance is warm and surprisingly cozy. You can’t help admiring the dark wood furniture sprinkled around, the lush green details here and there, the grand windows on one wall that seem to overlook the yard. All of it combined reeks of grossly, disgustingly rich—but that’s to be expected. You’d be disappointed if it didn’t. Every now and then you get pulled away from your admiring as someone comes and hits up a brief conversation with you and Maddox, though they tend to clear out just as quickly as they come. You watch with interest how most of them seem to shrink into themselves in front of Maddox, like trembling prey facing a predator—even when they’re nothing but smiles, polite words, and (insincere, you assume) flattery. It was no secret that their reputation preceded them at large. After all, you’d heard many and plenty of things about their more unpleasant businesses over the past decade yourself. Still, you didn’t quite expect people to truly fear them like this…? Or maybe you are the fool who didn’t get the memo. But what you find even more curious is how that same fear seems to spill over in how the other guests view you as well. The uncertain glances they throw your way as they walk past you haven’t gone unnoticed. [[It’s the weirdest kind of power trip—one you can’t deny enjoying.|parlor4][$react to "1"; $attn to "enjoy"; $nerve++]] [[It makes you feel a little uncomfortable.|parlor4][$react to "2"; $attn to "uncomf"; $nerve--]] [[You couldn’t care less what they think about you.|parlor4][$react to "3"; $attn to "dontcare"; $nerve++]]

<<if $react is "1">>\ You have a budding reputation of your own, of course, working for Killam, but it’s less than nothing compared to the one of la Zar’s. You doubt any of the people here even know who you really are. But getting a taste of what could be is weirdly intoxicating, to have people essentially bow down to you before the first interaction. You understand why Maddox would not only hold onto that kind of fame but also feed it to their best ability—though you do reckon it’s more a necessity to them at this point than something held up out of sheer will. <<elseif $react is "2">>\ Though you understand why someone like Maddox would enjoy this kind of attention, it has the exact opposite effect on you. The curious-yet-scared looks given to you make you shift in your place, probably making you look like a deer in headlights, which honestly is pretty close to how you feel under them. There’s a reason you never made a name for yourself beyond what it is right now—away from the spotlight is the place you feel most comfortable at—but standing next to Maddox forces a focus on you that you don’t outrightly cherish. <<elseif $react is "3">>\ You never spared a second thought to the attention you might or might not get, and you don’t plan on starting now either. The reality is that you don’t know any of these people any better than they know you (aside from the frivolous details such as your relation to Maddox), and as things stand right now, their opinions hardly matter to you—whatever those might be. <</if>>\ There is only one person who doesn’t seem to be at all intimidated by the presence of you two: deputy mayor Vanhoudt. You spy out of the corner of your eye them approaching you from the side, Santana trailing close behind them. Maddox, having too taken notice of them, nudges your side gently. “Game faces,” they lean down to whisper. You answer with a nod and... [[...tighten your hold of their arm.][$maddox +=2; $react to "1"]] [[...take better hold of their arm.][$maddox +=1; $react to "2"]] [[...slip your hand away from their arm.][$react to "3"]]

As soon as you squeeze their arm, not quite realizing you’re doing so<<if $nerve < 1>> as your nerves once again begin to take the better of you<</if>>, Maddox sets their free hand to rest on top of yours, giving it a few comforting pats and then leaving it there. When your eyes shoot up to meet theirs upon the unexpected gesture, your surprised stare is met with a soft smile. It creases the corners of their eyes faintly, the hazel of them nearly hidden behind the dark, long lashes framing them in an annoyingly perfect way. The warmth of them has the pit of your stomach making cartwheels. “Don’t worry,” they say quietly, voice a smooth, low purr. “I’ve got you, $name.” Though you appreciate the sentiment—or at least try your very best to—you’ve heard that same empty promise from them before. “It’s the least you can do,” you say after a beat of silence, “considering you brought me into this mess in the first place.” The smile persists on their face, but you notice the crinkles around their eyes smooth out at your response. Holding your stare only a moment longer, Maddox averts their gaze from you. “I know,” is the only thing they say. [[Continue|parlor5]]

Blowing out a tense breath, you grasp Maddox’s arm a little tighter. <<if $nerve < 1>>The firmer touch helps you center yourself a little better as your nerves begin to take hold of you again<<elseif $nerve >= 1>>Though you don’t feel all that nervous anymore, the firmer touch does help you center yourself further<</if>>. “You’ve got this, $name,” you hear Maddox murmur. <<if $nerve >= 1>> “I know I do,” you say with a wry smile. Maddox nudges you again with a light chuckle. “I know you do, too.” You glance at them only to be met with a faint smile. Your own widens into something more genuine, more at ease, at that. [[Continue|parlor5]] <<elseif $nerve < 1>> “Let’s hope so,” you say. Maddox nudges you again lightly. “I know so.” You glance at them only to be met with a faint smile. Your own widens into something more genuine, more at ease, at that. [[Continue|parlor5]]<</if>>\

You let your hand slip down to your side as you steel yourself, rolling back and pushing down your shoulders, drawing in a sharp breath. Maddox stuffs their hands into the pockets of their pants, also stretching into their full height as they take their place right at your shoulder, as though guarding you. “You’ve got this,” you hear them murmur. “I know I do,” you snipe with a scoff. Now you hear a low chuckle. “I know you do, too.” [[Continue|parlor5]]

As soon as they’re close enough to you, Maddox reaches <<if $react is "3">>around you<</if>> to offer their hand, “Deputy mayor Van--” “No,” they scowl, glaring down at the offered hand and shaking their head sharply in dismissal. Seems like you’re not the only one with thin patience when it comes to Maddox, the thought quirking up your lips a bit. “Whatever it is you have up your sleeve tonight, you better leave me out of it.” You hear a lazy click of a tongue<<if $react is "3">> coming from behind you<</if>>. “Florian, my good friend, I assure you my only trick is to be on my best behavior.” “That remains to be seen,” Florian mutters. They move to the side, making room as they gesture Santana to step beside them, muttering tightly, “Come now, $mijx, say hello.” Your eyes on $sthem now, you notice Santana throw an uneasy glance at $stheir parent before meeting your eye. $sThey trains a careful, wobbly smile on $stheir lips, head nodding in a timid greeting as $sthey lifts a hand to give you an awkward half-wave. Florian doesn’t bother to hide the pained sigh coming out of them at the half-hearted effort made. You nearly wince at the sound of it just as Santana does, $stheir posture crumbling to one of a scolded child even when no words are spoken. Maddox is quick to clear their throat under the tension that threatens to descend over you following it. You hold back the impulse to do the same. [[Continue|parlor6]]

“I believe you haven’t met my better half yet,” Maddox says, drawing Florian’s scrutinizing attention from Santana to you. <<if $react is "3">>Their hand hovers over the small of your back, not quite touching, but close enough.<</if>> Certain that your face will be stuck in the same expression for good after this evening, you raise the hundredth polite smile of the night on your face as you lift your hand towards the deputy mayor. They take it, giving a brisk shake, grip firm but not too much. Definitely one of a seasoned politician. “Of course. $name, was it?” they ask, purely out of courtesy you’re sure, but you nod anyway. “Florian Vanhoudt. My condolences for having to marry this fool.” [[Keep smiling but say nothing.|parlor7][$react to "1"]] [[You can’t quite hold yourself from laughing.|parlor7][$rsfavor++; $react to "2"]] [[“Excuse me?”|parlor7][$rsfavor++; $react to "3"; $maddox +=2]]

<<if $react is "1">>\ You uphold the obligatory polite smile at their jab you doubt is a joking one. You’ll have to give them credit for showing their distaste of Maddox so freely though. Were it your actual spouse they were talking about in such a way, you’d have half the mind to snap back. <<elseif $react is "2">>\ Appropriate or not, that does make you snicker. You glance <<if $react is "3">>over your shoulder<</if>> at Maddox, a faint hint of a grimace on their face though they won’t protest, before turning back to the deputy mayor. “Much appreciated,” you grin. <<elseif $react is "3">>\ “I’m sorry?” you ask flatly, raising a brow at Florian. They level just as unimpressed a stare at you. “Humor, sweetheart,” they say. You’re a second away from crinkling your nose at them, but then you hear Maddox pointedly clear their throat again. <</if>> Even though Santana remains to stand quietly next to Florian, shrunken into $sthemself as though trying to make $sthemself as invisible as humanly possible, your eyes keep drifting back to $sthem nonetheless. $sThey keeps $stheir eyes steadily trained away from the rest of you, sometimes dropped to $stheir feet, sometimes looking elsewhere with an empty gaze. Everything about $stheir stiff demeanor screams unwillingness to be here, and you can’t help but relate. “So, $name.” Your attention snaps back to Florian. “I can’t help but wonder how someone like you ended up with someone like…” They give Maddox a sideways glance, barely holding back the oh-so-apparent judgment in both their voice and how they look at them. Their nose crinkles a bit, but instead of finishing the thought, they ask, “You met in high school, yes?” “Yeah,” you confirm. “We were classmates, actually.” They narrow their eyes at you, this detail seeming to catch Florian’s curiosity for whatever reason. Maddox probably hasn’t shed a lot of light on their past, though you can’t think why their teen years would be of any interest to anyone. “I’d imagine they weren’t quite like this back then,” they say with a ghost of a wry smile lifting one corner of their mouth. It takes a solid effort to bite back a bark of laughter. Oh, if you only knew. “Not quite,” you manage to muster out of yourself, still upholding the neutral smile. [[Continue|parlor8]]

“I understand your wedding was not long ago?” Florian asks then. The question seems innocent enough, but the slyness that seeps into their smile tells you that the intentions behind it are not so. You nod cautiously. “It was a month ago.” “Tell me about it.” Ah. You should’ve seen this coming. Now you know you could leave this for Maddox to answer, but something about the smugness of the deputy mayor stirs certain defiance in you. It’s as if they’re not even trying to hide the fact they’re not buying it. …Well, sure, they’d be right not to, but it still irks you, you know? You see Santana rolling $stheir eyes before you turn from $sthem and Florian to Maddox. They look as unbothered as ever when they return your gaze, a conspiratorial smirk on their face that swings you right back a decade with its familiarity. Suddenly you feel like you’re in the principal’s office again. [[Continue|hsthrowb1]]

Principal Hayes sighs heavily as he looks at the four of you. “Somehow I am not surprised to have your ragtag team here again.” Maddox and Kristian are seated in front of his desk, while you and Wilma stand behind them. Your hands are resting on the back of Kristian’s seat when you hear him snicker a bit too gleefully under his breath. You nip the back of his neck with your nails lightly to get him to shut up, his hand flying to where you’d pinched him with a yelp. He shoots a glare at you over his shoulder, you answering it with a tight scowl that gets him to turn back around with a disgruntled huff. “Why don’t you tell me yourself why you’re here this time,” your principal says, leaning back on his seat with another grumbled sigh. You all glance at each other, but it’s Maddox who takes the lead—as usual. “Mrs. Kovack is blaming us for the missing laptops, sir,” they say with a slight smile. “Ah, right, that incident.” He pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at them expectantly. “Well? Are you to blame?” You ask in turn with a scoff, “Would you believe us if we said no?” His weary stare drags slowly over from Maddox to you. “With your track record, $mx. $name, I’m inclined not to.” He shakes his head and runs a hand over his face. “But four students stealing seven laptops in one go in the middle of the day sounds far-fetched even to me. Still—” “With all due respect, principal Hayes, do you honestly think we’d be able to smuggle all of that out of here when there are both guards and security cameras everywhere?” Maddox asks, raising a brow. Wilma smiles at the mention of cameras. “This school guards its property better than it does its students. I’m sure you’re aware of that.” The principal winces at the slight. You smile; poking at sore spots always was Maddox’s specialty. [[Continue|hsthrowb2]]

“We would’ve been caught right away,” you continue with a shrug. Then Maddox: “And we’ve had our lockers and bags searched already.” “I assume nothing was found then,” Hayes says dryly. All of you nod, and you confirm, “Nothing.” Hayes covers his mouth with his hand, tapping the armrest of his chair with the other. He doesn’t look at any of you now as he falls quiet, eyes dropped down to his desk instead. You and Maddox glance at each other. They give you a subtle nod along with a faint half-smile. Time to wrap this up. “Please, sir,” you say, drawing his attention back to you, “think about it. We’ve been staying out of trouble for months now.” “What would we even do with seven laptops?” Maddox continues. Then, you again: “Yeah. There’s only four of us.” They nod along serenely. “And if there was any evidence pointing at us, you would’ve found it by now, no?” “CCTV footage, or someone who would’ve seen us—” Hayes cuts you off sharply, “Alright. Enough.” Pinching your lips together, you look at Maddox. They don’t look all that worried, and you don’t feel so either. You try to get a read on principal Hayes, but you can’t tell if the drained look on his face is because he still doesn’t believe you, or if he’s just had enough of dealing with this, and you, for now. He sighs again, lifting his hand to rub his eyes. Then, probably realizing that this is the best he’s going to get out of you, he waves his hand vaguely towards the door of his office. “Go.” [[Continue|parlor9]]

“Well?” You look at Maddox. They give you a subtle nod, the smirk on their face easing into a faint smile. This is nothing you haven’t done before. “Sorry. I was trying to think where to start,” you say as you turn back to Florian. “It was actually a pretty small event. Just <<cycle "$bg1" autoselect>> <<option "family" "family">> <<option "close friends and family" "friendfam">> <</cycle>>.” Florian nods slowly. “I see. Was it held here in the city?” “No,” Maddox shakes their head. “<<cycle "$bg2" autoselect>> <<option "$name’s father was kind enough to let us use his country house a few hours from here" "father">> <<option "My aunt was kind enough to let us use her house just outside the city" "aunt">> <</cycle>>.” “Yeah, we felt the city was a little bit too…” You glance at Maddox. “Grim,” they complete your sentence without missing a beat, looking back at you. “...for such a happy occasion like that,” you finish—and then you both look at Florian again, sidling closer to each other with wide smiles plastered on your faces. Maddox even goes on to <<if $react isnot "3">>release your arm and curl theirs around your waist loosely<<else>>slide their arm around your waist loosely<</if>>. You just hope <<if $mflirt < 0.5 && $maddox >= 30>>the surprise from the gesture doesn’t make it to your expression<<elseif $mflirt >= 0.5 && $maddox >= 35>>the heat you feel rushing to your face doesn’t show in your expression<<else>>the annoyance it evokes in you doesn’t show on your face<</if>>. [[Relax into the touch.|parlor10][$rsfavor++; $playalong_2 to true]] [[Remain still. Very, very still.|parlor10][$rssus++]]

<<if $playalong_2 is true>>\ You let Maddox tug you closer to themself, relaxing into their touch. Florian’s eyes drop to their arm around your waist for a split second before returning back up. <<else>>\ You probably look like a statue with how stiff you go with Maddox’s arm wrapped around you. Florian’s eyes drop down to the touch, moving slowly back up. …Maybe they won’t think much of it? <</if>> Apparently having had enough of probing and shallow conversation just then, they take a quick glance around the parlor before shooting Maddox a meaningful look you don’t miss. “I did need to talk to you about something, la Zar,” Florian says. “Do you have a minute right now?” “Of course,” Maddox nods, leaving your side as they take a step closer to Florian instead. “We can leave these two newcomers to get to know each other, no? I’m sure it would be good for both of them.” Florian bristles at the suggestion but nods stiffly, eyeing Santana with no small amount of unhidden criticism. $sThey pointedly avoids meeting their eye. The deputy mayor peels away first. Before following after them, Maddox gives Santana a small, apologetic smile and angles you a step away from $sthem. “Bring $sthem to the study in,” they lean in to whisper, glancing at their watch, “say, half an hour, 40 minutes tops.” You murmur, “How am I supposed to do that?” “You’re quick on your feet,” Maddox hums. “$sTheyre just as out of $stheir element as you are right now. Use it to your advantage.” You turn back to Santana, Maddox offering their hand to $sthem. “It was a pleasure to meet you, $smx. Vanhoudt.” $sThey takes it gingerly and gives it a loose shake. “Likewise.” Then they turn away to leave, looking at you over their shoulder as they go. They give you a nod you suppose is meant to be an encouraging kind. Guess it’s just you now, then. [[Continue|parlor11]]

So… You watch Maddox and Florian disappear on the other side of the parlor before focusing back on Santana. $sThey is hardly even looking at you. “Hey,” you say. $sThey looks up from $stheir feet, a mumbled “Hi,” all you get in response. Well, this is certainly painful. Santana shifts $stheir weight from one foot to another, glancing around restlessly. Your eyes fall down to $stheir hands, noting how $sthey picks the sleeve of $stheir deep emerald blazer as the silence between you drags on. It’s getting quite clear by the minute $sthey won’t be the one striking up a conversation. You decide to try and break the ice with a simple, “Nervous?” and that word alone seems to startle $sthem; Santana flinches, eyes widening when you speak, but at least it gets $sthem to laugh, if weakly. “That obvious?” $sthey asks, at which you nod. Crossing your arms loosely over your chest, you offer $sthem a smile that hopefully comes across as compassionate. “This whole evening is just...” “Bullshit?” you suggest when $sthey trails off. $sTheir jaw drops at your choice of word but you believe it’s relief you see washing over $sthem immediately after. “Yes,” Santana sighs. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.” [[Continue|parlor12]]

Another quiet settles between you two, but against your expectations, it doesn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. With Florian’s absence, Santana’s tensed shoulders drop little by little as you continue to stand alone together. You can’t help relaxing too, maybe comforted by your shared distaste for the situation. “Do you think it’ll still be a while before things wrap up?” you ask a few moments later. Santana shrugs with a faint sigh. “Who knows. Could be.” $sThey looks at you quickly from the corner of $stheir eye. You can’t get a proper read on if $stheyre joking when $sthey says, “If you’re bored, though, we could always gossip. Very popular sport around here, I’ve noticed.” A part-amused-part-surprised grin spreads on your mouth. “I’d heard you don’t attend these things too often.” $sThey hums, “I don’t, no.” Then $sthey nods vaguely towards the personnel swarming around. “But they do, and man, do they love to talk. Did you know that Welles has a tiny chili tattoo on his lower back? Had it done when he was nineteen.” Your head falls back with a surprised laugh that draws the attention of the few people nearby. Santana, too, chuckles softly, shaking $stheir head. “I know right? Can’t do shit around here without someone finding out.” Somehow you don’t doubt that at all. <<link "Ask if $stheyve heard any rumors about $sthemself." "rumor1">><</link>> <<link "Ask if $stheyve heard any rumors about you." "rumor2">><</link>>

“Heard anything juicy about yourself?” you ask with a grin. Santana rolls $stheir eyes with a scoff. “Have I ever,” $sthey says dryly. $sThey tucks $stheir hands inside the pockets of $stheir trousers that match $stheir blazer, sucking a sharp breath in through $stheir teeth. You think $sthey might not elaborate on the topic more (you probably wouldn’t; not to a stranger anyway), but to your surprise, $sthey does continue. “Florian hid me from the public for the better half of my life.” You nod; this you knew. “So, naturally, when I finally turned up, some were questioning if I’m even real.” “Real?” you ask, raising a brow. $sThey certainly seems very real to you. You know, what with literally standing right in front of you, and all that. “What do you mean?” Santana studies your confused expression from the corner of $stheir eye. Then, $sthey leans closer to you, a playful and somewhat mock-conspiratorial smile playing on $stheir lips. “Real as in, if I were Florian’s actual $schild, or just someone random they’d hired to pose as one.” [[Continue|rumor1.2]]

After debating whether to let your curiosity get the better of you, you end up asking Santana, “Do you… know if people have said anything about me yet?” “No, not really.” $sThey looks you up and down, not in a way you’d read as judgment or even appraisal—maybe just mild amusement caused by your question. “Judging from how everyone’s been acting around you two, I don’t think people have the guts to.” You nod thoughtfully. It wasn’t just your imagination, then. After another comfortable beat of silence has passed between you, $sthey says, “You’re different than I thought you would be.” “Yeah?” you ask, smiling faintly. “How come?” “I don’t know. You seem so…” $sTheir brows pinch together when $sthey thinks of how to continue. “Normal would be the right word, I guess. You know, considering.” “Normal?” you repeat with a weak chuckle, not sure how to feel about that evaluation. When you think about it more, though, the people Maddox usually busies themself with probably differ from your demure self quite a lot. “You say that like a compliment.” Santana spares you a small smile before shifting $stheir eyes away from you again, going on to flag down another waiter. As they round up to you, you both take flutes of bubbly, if $sthey a bit more eagerly than you do. “Because it is one.” $sThey raises the glass at you. “God knows we could use normal more around here.” Rolling your lips together, you clink yours gingerly against $stheirs. [[Continue|parlor14][$santana +=2]]

You swallow slowly to hold back a nervous chuckle. That definitely hits a little too close to home for comfort. Not to mention that it also raises the very real concern of the same doubts being eventually aimed at you -- you’ll probably have to bring that up with Maddox when you can. As $sthey leans back again, a strained, uncertain laugh does slip out of you. “That’s… quite a leap to conclusions.” “Yet not completely unheard of.” $sThey shrugs with a glum sigh. “I get it.” Just as you figure — and deeply hope — that Santana’s not going to say more on it, $sthey coughs out an awkward laugh. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t dump family drama on you within the first five minutes.” “I don’t mind,” you say, shrugging, relieved and ready to bury that particular topic. “Hell of an icebreaker, that’s for sure.” $sThey laughs again, all the while flagging down another waiter. As they round up to you, you both take flutes of bubbly, if $sthey more eagerly than you. “Cheers,” Santana raises $stheir glass to you, smiling. “Hopefully we’ll be out of here sooner than later.” You tap yours lightly against $stheirs with a chuckle. “I’ll drink to that.” [[Continue|parlor14][$santana +=2]]

You ease into comfortable conversation with Santana after that. The more you continue chatting this and that, the more you notice how unexpectedly down-to-earth $sthey is. You end up learning a whole lot more about $sthem than you thought you would over the course of the next few minutes: things such as $stheir favorite music being blues, and that $stheir all-time favorite book is The Age of Innocence. And that if $sthey had to choose between the fanciest meal imaginable and $stheir mother’s cachapas, $sthey would always choose the cachapas. Preferably with cheese only. You’d readied yourself to win over a snobby rich kid looking down $stheir nose at you, but if anything, Santana reminds you more of the people you spend time with back in your usual circles -- even more than Maddox does. And you two grew up in the same neighborhood, after all. Speaking of… [[Continue|parlor15]] <<notify 3s>>Contact updated: Santana Vanhoudt<</notify>>\

Meanwhile... In the hallway “Do you have everything under control?” Florian asks. Tension colors the words, but their expression remains carefully neutral despite it. Maddox flashes them their signature languid smile, “Are you having second thoughts?” The deputy mayor shoots them a cutting glare following the question. Though the hallway is empty apart from them, they still peer around as though expecting someone to bust out from behind the corner at any given moment. “…No,” they grit their teeth. “But I’m sure you understand why I am not exactly jumping for joy.” Maddox sets a hand on their shoulder, giving it a light but reassuring squeeze. Florian scowls at the gesture yet doesn’t move away from the touch. “I told you I’d be on my best behavior,” Maddox says, letting the hand slip back down. “That includes my work for you.” “And as I said, that remains to be seen,” Florian says dryly. They breathe out a heavy sigh, running a hand over their face. <<if $rsfavor < $rssus>>“Does your plaything know what you’re up to?” Maddox narrows their eyes. “My plaything?” “Your high school buddy.” Florian chuckles humorlessly. Maddox goes on to answer, but they cut them off with a raised hand before they can get there. “You can feed whatever bullshit you want to everyone else, but you’re not fooling me, la Zar. You didn’t snake your way back here with a trophy $spouse in tow just for the sake of it.” A short silence descends between them—one that is only broken when Maddox scoffs out a deep laugh, lifting their hand to rub their jaw. Florian’s eyes follow the movement, but they keep the poised, collected stature and expression firmly in place. “Plaything,” Maddox repeats, grimacing as though the word tasted foul. The deputy mayor rolls their eyes. Their mouth opens to say something, but they snap their lips into a tight line as Maddox takes a swaying half-step first away, then towards them, shaking a finger at them like a parent telling off a child. “Now you can doubt and question my intentions to your heart’s content, Vanhoudt. I won’t stop you. In fact, I encourage it.” They tap their temple with two fingers mockingly. “Keeps the mind sharp.” They then lean closer to the deputy mayor with a broad, crooked grin, eyes bright as their voice drops to a low murmur, “But if I ever hear you so much as whisper that word about $them again, I will rip out your tongue with my own two hands and feed it to your guard dogs outside.” <<else>>“Does your so-called $spouse know what you’re up to?” Maddox narrows their eyes. “So-called?” Florian sighs deeply, looking away from them for a moment. “…Fine.” They meet their eye again. “I’ll humor you two this once. Your $spouse. How much <<do>> $they know?” A short silence descends between them—one that is only broken when Maddox scoffs out a deep laugh, lifting their hand to rub their jaw. Florian’s eyes follow the movement, but they keep the poised, collected stature and expression firmly in place. “$Theyre hardly a concern for you,” Maddox says slowly, taking a step closer to the deputy mayor. “And I didn’t bring $them here for you to sniff around $them like a hound dog.” They then lean closer to the deputy mayor with a broad, crooked grin, eyes bright as their voice drops to a low murmur, “Do I make myself clear?” <</if>>\ Florian’s eyes widen ever so slightly, face draining of color. Maddox studies their expression with keen interest, head tilting to the side expectantly, as though urging an answer. A moment passes in eerie silence. [[Continue|hallway2][$psg to 0]]

Suddenly Maddox snaps back, straightening themself up with a light chuckle. “Ah, look at me,” they say, smoothing down the front of their deep red suit with a few nonchalant swipes before shooting another smile at Florian, “now I’ve gone and made things awkward. How incredibly rude of me.” When the deputy mayor doesn’t answer, staring at them bewildered instead, Maddox tuts disappointedly. Their hand sets over their chest in an apologetic manner, but the gesture reeks of pretense. “Unless you had something else, I think it’s best we return,” they say, turning on their heel smoothly while grinning at Florian over their shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from your guests longer than necessary. Shall we?” They watch Florian swallow slowly, mouth left hanging slightly open. The deputy mayor shakes their head after a moment more of silence, as though shaking themself back awake. “...Yes.” The word is full of hesitance, but they take a step forward to follow after Maddox anyway. “Let’s go.” [[Continue|parlor16]]

Back in the parlor... “…aaand that’s the last time I ate sushi,” Santana laughs, swiping the corner of $stheir eye with the back of $stheir hand. “Seriously? You haven’t had it since?” you ask, smiling yourself. Santana shakes $stheir head, but before a proper answer, you notice $stheir attention moving somewhere past your shoulder. Not a second later, Maddox steps up beside you. “I hope I’m not interrupting,” they say with a soft smile, gaze drifting first over you, then to Santana. “You two seem to be getting along just fine.” $sThey looks at you, uncertain but almost hopeful for you to agree. When you nod, $stheir smile widens even more, and the entire room seems to brighten with it; but as something else catches $stheir eye again, the cheery atmosphere around you disappears into thin air in a blink. You follow $stheir gaze to the other side of the room. Florian is waving $sthem over, looking even tenser than they did before. [[Continue|parlor17]]

Pressing a hand to the middle of their chest, you push Maddox back a step. You very much did not and do not want to put yourself in between these particular two, but what other option do you have? “Not the right place for whatever this is,” you hiss, though it doesn’t come out as intimidating as you hope. “Back off, la Zar.” Maddox’s eyes shift from Harlan to you. The grin on their face dies so suddenly you nearly flinch, the cold, vacant expression that takes its place sending a tremor down your spine. The alarms in your head practically scream “you fucked up!” at you and you snap back your hand from them, almost inching towards Harlan to find some sort of refuge from their stare that feels as though having a knife held to your jugular. It’s something you’re not too keen on being the receiving end of, especially coming from them. At least one of you seems to calm down thanks to your meddling. You hear Harlan breathe out one gruff grunt before saying, “If I were you, I’d listen to your ‘$spouse’. Maybe jog that memory of yours and remember who $they really work<<s>> for.” He steps around you to leave, but Maddox’s eyes never leave yours even when he does. You feel frozen in place, unable to do as much as blink. Without Harlan by your back now, you’re starting to feel… trapped, trying to open your mouth to say anything. It takes a few tries until you manage to whisper weakly, “Maddox?” You stare at each other a while longer. As though having forgotten themself for a moment there, they shake their head, and the empty expression melts into a slight frown with the calm but deep breath Maddox eventually draws in, eyes dropping to the floor for a quick second before meeting yours again. They’re warmer, softer now. Just like their voice when they murmur, “Sorry.” Did you hear them right, now? The sudden shift throws you off, and the shock must show on your face as well as be heard in your voice; a faint smile climbs back on their lips when you say, “Come again?” Maddox angles away from you with an awkward smile. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them wear one before. “Don’t make me repeat it, $name. You know I am not one to apologize for my actions.” “Yet you just did,” you point out. [[Might as well tease them about it a bit.][$maddox +=2]] [[Tell them you appreciate it.][$maddox +=1]] [[Let it go.]]

You’re not all that sure if appealing to Maddox will help one bit, so you end up turning to the next best thing, hoping that despite their taunting, Harlan will be reasonable enough to do the bare minimum of listening to you. “Can we let this… thing go for now?” you plead, pushing yourself between them to stop him from advancing further. “I don’t know who you’re here for, but—” He snarls, brows pinching into a tight frown, “I’m here for you.” You should’ve seen this coming. Still it takes you by surprise. “Me?” Behind you, Maddox barks out a loud laugh. It attracts even more viewers to the three of you. “Is this how far the so dreaded Crow has fallen?” they jeer gleefully. You just about hold back elbowing them in the stomach, opting to shoot them a berating look over your shoulder instead. It has them raising their hands and snapping their mouth shut, a devilish grin on it though there might still be. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Because this is totally what you needed to make things even better. Maddox touches your elbow lightly, drawing your attention back to them. “I think you might have some words to exchange,” they say, still smiling as though having heard the world’s best joke just now. Of course they’d bask in the glory of whatever causes you the biggest headache. “Come find me when you’re done, dear.” They give Harlan a mocking salute as they make to leave. “Always a pleasure, Mr. Crow. Let’s do this again sometime, shall we?” And then it’s just you two. You try to calm yourself with the thought that at the very least, at this particular moment, both you and Harlan probably want to strangle Maddox just as badly as the other. [[Continue|just as badly as the other]]

“Stop it, both of you,” you seethe, voice breaking slightly mid-sentence when you remember just who you’re putting yourself in the middle of. “This is not the right place for whatever this is.” This notion seems to snap them out of the weird bickering--if you can call it such. You’d think you shouldn’t have to remind two professional murderers not to attract attention to themselves, and in such an idiotic way on top of everything, yet here you are. You don’t know whether to cry or laugh about it. Harlan seems to be the first one to realize the ridiculousness of it all, grunting out an annoyed, rough groan. He runs a hand over his hair as though smoothing down ruffled feathers. “I’m not here for this bullshit.” Yeah, you definitely share that sentiment. Maddox, on the other hand, seems not to. “Do tell why you are here, Mr. Crow. I am dying of curiosity,” their voice is nothing but full of gleeful jeering. “Does Killam have so little faith in me she had to send you to keep an eye on us?” “With your habit of destroying everything you touch, I’d say it’s more than reasonable for her to do so,” Harlan snaps. “But you wouldn’t know the first thing about looking after your own, now would you?” Even you wince at that cut. It feels hypocritical to do so—admittedly you’ve had the same thought yourself, but at least you’ve had the courtesy to keep it to yourself. As to why Crow has a reason to make a similar remark, you can only guess. You risk looking at Maddox, expecting them to shoot back another witty comeback, but instead all you get to watch is all emotion drain from their face. It catches you so off-guard you can’t even begin to think what to make of it. They remain silent and still, horrifyingly so. The longer it goes on, the heavier it feels. Is this what la Zar scorned looks like? You definitely wouldn’t want to be the receiving end of that stare, though Harlan doesn’t seem to be at all fazed by it. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding your breath. Not until it releases with Maddox’s quiet, “…No. I suppose I wouldn’t.” It sounds… sorrowful, yet hearing them say something feels like a weight lifted from your chest—and now, with your rediscovered ability to breathe, you also find your voice, having had more than enough of this for one night. [[Take Maddox and leave.]] [[Stay behind with Harlan.]]

Maddox is already grimacing, but you can’t help poking at them a little now that you have the chance. “Glad to see you’ve expanded your vocabulary since high school, though,” you say. “And here I thought you hadn’t changed one bit.” They roll their eyes, if with humor. “You’d be surprised.” The rest of your unease from moments ago is replaced by curiosity. In all fairness, it has been years. Though you’re looking at Maddox as someone familiar, the reality is that… you don’t actually know them at all. Not anymore. “…Maybe I’ll find out with time, then,” you say, looking them up and down. “If you’ll let me. What with all your secrets and stuff.” Maddox trains a carefully neutral expression on them as they return your appraising gaze. “Maybe you will,” they say. “Maybe I will let you.” The air is charged with a weird kind of tension you can’t put your finger on; but you feel it nonetheless, a tingling sensation going all the way down to your toes and fingertips that you try to dispel with a light chuckle. “That sounds almost like a promise.” You try to keep the teasing tone in your voice, but notice yourself faltering towards the end. It feels like tiptoeing on the edges of thin ice, with a vast sea of dark unknown right under your foot; an odd thrill of pushing for something you know should be left alone, but you can’t. They hold your expectant stare, and you wait for them to answer… but instead, the quiet remains, and once again you feel foolish for thinking that things would be different this time around. Before long, Maddox coughs, breaking the heavy silence. “We have work to do,” they say softly, as if to remind you. Right. Better get to it, then. [[Continue|gettowork1]]

Watching them squirm before you like that awakens some merciful instinct in you. You hadn’t expected any kind of apology, but you’re honestly kind of glad to see that the years have brought them some sense of sensitivity—and what was that about encouraging the kind of behavior you want to see more of? Maybe that’ll apply here too. “Anyway, thanks, I… appreciate it,” you end up saying. “Kinda scared me for a moment there. I never realized how intense you get when you’re, uh…” Angry? Annoyed? Upset? You search for the word, yet none that comes to mind feels quite the right fit. Maddox lets out a rueful sigh, lifting their hand to rub the back of their neck. “A bad habit I am trying to get rid of, I promise you.” They actually look ashamed, not able to look you in the eye. That’s another first you’re not sure what to do with. “I’m… sure it’s useful in some situations?” you try to ease the awkwardness with a half-hearted smile. They laugh, but the sound of it is hollow, as is the smile that comes with it. “But maybe not with someone you’re supposed to work with.” Their expression brightens into something more genuine at that. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” [[Continue|gettowork1]]

Sure, they look like a kicked puppy, but you have better things to do than soothe their wounded ego over one puny apology. “Anyway…” You glance at the clock overhead. “Back to the matter at hand?” Maddox looks almost relieved that you’ve moved on, taking a look at their watch as well, and nods thoughtfully. “Yes,” they say. Their gaze then drifts to where Santana stands with Florian. "This unfortunate run-in has taken enough time as it is." Maddox's hand sets on your shoulder for a second, drawing your eyes up to meet theirs. Lowering your voice, you ask, "You still want me to bring $sthem to the study?" They nod along with the reaffirming squeeze they give your shoulder before taking a step away from you. "We'll have to pick up speed, though." You nod again. "Sure. I've got it." Maddox gives you a pleased smile, then leaving your side. You notice Florian's eyes following them keenly as they slip out of the room, their stare then drifting over to you. [[Wait for Florian to leave.][$nerve--]] [[Head over anyway.][$nerve++]]

You breathe out a deep sigh, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. Now that the situation has passed, both you and Harlan take half a step back to reinstate the distance between you. Though it doesn’t do much to make him any more approachable, you do notice that with Maddox’s departure, his raised hackles seem to have calmed a bit. Maybe you’ll dare to try and have those words with him. “So…” you let the word drag, unsure how to begin, “You’re here to… what, look after me?” Harlan’s eyes drift off to where Maddox had gone to. He sounds sincere, but not all that sympathetic, “Shouldn’t be a surprise. Seeing who you’re dealing with.” “…Fair. You, uh, seem to know each other well,” you note. He scoffs, scowling—a sore spot then, you assume. “Bad blood, I take it?” “Let’s make one thing clear, $surname,” Harlan says as he looks at you again. “I’m not here to be your friend or your moral support. Killam sent me here to make sure that majestic fucking moron doesn’t throw you under the bus when and if something goes wrong. That’s all there is to this.” He gestures between him and you. “Understood?” You raise your brows at the tight tone. “Perfectly.” “Good.” He runs a hand over his hair with a rough huff. Now that you take a better look, everything about him seems precise, lethal. You guess it’s a good thing to have someone like him in your corner just in case. Beats being on the opposite side in any case, that’s for sure. “Will you be helping us out then?” you ask tentatively. “No,” he deadpans. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I was done talking to you fifteen minutes ago.” Your mouth drops open as he steps around you. “We haven’t even—” Less than interested in your refute, Harlan ignores you completely, leaving you standing alone and bemused as he crosses to the other side of the room. You can do nothing but stare after him wide-eyed. What the fuck does it take to have one normal conversation around here, you wonder? You scan the room for Maddox, finding them next to Santana and Florian. As though feeling your eyes on them just then, they turn their head towards you—and unless you’re imagining it, there seems to be a slight tinge of worry in their expression. As if wordlessly asking if you’re okay. You pinch your lips together and take a step forward, <<if $nerve lt 1>>trying to ignore<<else>>shrugging off<</if>> the stares you feel following after you. You can’t stress enough how badly you want this night to be over. [[Continue|gettowork1]]

“That’s quite enough for now.” You turn to Maddox with a frown, setting your hand lightly on their forearm and nodding your head to the side. “Come on, let’s go.” They don’t answer at first, eyes remaining trained on Harlan. You start to think they might refuse, but after a moment more of silence, their gaze drops down to you with a heavy sigh. They clear their throat, and you see them swallow. “Yes, of course.” They glance at Harlan one more time, but then turn away with a shake of their head. As Maddox begins to retreat, and you with them, you also take a swift look back at Harlan over your shoulder. He meets your eye but says nothing, merely scoffing before raising his glass to his lips and turning away from you. An unsettling feeling roots itself in the pit of your stomach. If running into him is going to be a regular occurrence, and this… altercation is what to be expected when you do, this gig of yours is going to be an even greater headache than you’d anticipated. As you follow after Maddox, you think about asking them what all that was about—but when you look at them, seeing the uneasiness that laces their features, you think it better not to. It feels like something that should be left untouched. And in any case, just as soon as you’re far enough away from Harlan, the expression swipes itself off their face in an instant. [[Continue|gettowork1]]

“That’s quite enough of both of you,” you say, frowning as you turn to Maddox. “Give us a moment?” Their eyes drag down from Harlan to you. At first they look like they’re about to refuse, but then their shoulders sag, and they give you a feeble nod. “Of course,” they murmur. Before they go, Maddox glances past you at Harlan again. The look in their eyes lacks its usual mirth, their lips parting as though to say something more… yet they fall quiet once more, shaking their head weakly. As they leave, the atmosphere has shifted into something haunting. You turn back to Harlan with a sigh. Confused doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re left, but it’s probably wiser not to go poking around that exchange for now. There’s one question you do want an answer to, however. “So you’re here to keep an eye on me?” Harlan drops his arms from his chest with a quiet groan. He sounds like he’s about as done with this whole thing as you are. “Yes.” You nod, biting your cheek. The one-word reply suffices. Whether you’re pissed, worried or relieved to have someone of his rank to babysit you, you’ll decide on later. You’re too tired to think, and more than anything, you just want to move on with the night. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Well…” [[“Have a good night.”]] [[“Don’t strain yourself.”][$harlan +=1]] [[“I’ll see you around then.”]]

You roll your eyes but return to observing the room. The deputy mayor, luckily, has turned on their heel, returning to the seats at the head of the table, Santana already having claimed one of them. “So,” you say. Maddox glances at you. “So?” “$sThem.” You nod towards the politician’s $schild. “What’s your plan?” They draw in a sharp breath, eyes narrowing as they too aim their stare at Santana. You hear them tapping their fingers against the back of your seat; it’s some odd habit you remember them having when you were younger, too, hands always on the move. “It’s simple, really,” they say. “To survive in these circles, you need to make connections. Find your allies among the wolves. And that one,” they nod in $stheir direction, “has none here yet.” You snort. “So, what, you’re going to hire $sthem to be your friend? You don’t want the other rich kids to play with $sthem?” Maddox turns to give you a dry half-smile. “Do you honestly think these people will ever be interested in anything else than using $sthem to get closer to the deputy mayor, to get to their good graces?” “And you aren’t?” you question with a brow raised. Maddox shakes their head with a derisive scoff. “I have little care for if the deputy mayor likes me or not,” they say, the previous half-smile lengthening into a full smirk that seeps both pure confidence and unfiltered cockiness, ice-cold sharpness bright in their eyes. “Unlike these other miserable bastards here, I don’t need them to.” That statement alone raises about a dozen new questions in your mind—questions you’re not all that sure you want an answer to. You hold Maddox’s stare for a moment longer, but as a faint clink of someone tapping a glass with cutlery sounds, you turn away from them with a frown. [[Continue|dinner3]]

You really couldn’t care less about the deputy mayor’s speech. Not that there is much to care about anyway. It follows about the same pattern you’d expect from any speech coming from a politician running late for their own party: a flow of mandatory, if vague, apologies (because who cares about the reason behind it – the more there is to speculate about, the better), a few well-placed compliments for the most esteemed guests (that fall, to no one’s surprise, on the Police Captain, and some other few you have no idea about), finished with faux-joyful wishes of “enjoy yourselves”, which you assume just means “carry on, get wasted on my money and don’t ask any questions”. And maybe, just maybe, there is an “or else” hidden somewhere in there – but, should there be one, they at least cover it well enough for you not to catch it. The doors of the dining room open again, and two lines of servers carrying starters pour in, circling the table. A savory scent of food fills the room, and you can only wish your stomach will keep quiet long enough for you to fill it before the inevitable whale song of a churning begins. You wait stiffly for one of the servers to approach you, stilling completely as they reach over you to place your plate in front of you. Tension riddles your shoulders, and you almost forget how to breathe for a moment, barely managing an obligatory smile when they pull back after what feels like several minutes instead of the few seconds they really are there. You mumble a quick thank you, only daring to blow out your half-held breath once they have moved on from you. Maddox again is, in pretty much every way humanly possible, your polar opposite. You’d guess their nonchalance is thanks to the fact that they really don’t care about what other people think about them, or then these kinds of events are something they’re far more used to than you thought they’d be. Whatever it may be, this seems like breathing to them: it comes so naturally, the wide, languid smile they flash at the server directly as they move on to them, not stammering on one syllable they speak. Were it not for your personal feelings towards them, you’d almost be envious of the ease they radiate. …Or, at the very least, it would be much easier to admit that at this moment, you are, to your own distaste, some kind of jealous of them. Not that you’d say that out loud. Like, ever. [[Continue|dinner4]]

You stare down the utensils laid in front of you, and all you can think about is who the fuck decided there needs to be more than just one set of them for one dinner? You shudder at the mere thought of the mountain of dishes to be washed after tonight. But more than that, you’re just completely lost, and so you lean over to Maddox to whisper, “Which ones am I supposed to start with?” They chuckle under their breath, a bit too gleefully to earn your appreciation. “The outer ones,” they say then, a smile still lingering on their lips despite the scowl you aim at them. “My, my, you sure are going to be a piece of work, $name.” “Whatever,” you breathe sharply, picking up a fork. You genuinely wonder if stabbing yourself (or even just a tiny scratch?) with it would get you the out you so badly want. “How long are we going to be stuck here?” “At the table?” they ask, at which you nod. They shrug. “Two hours, maybe.” Maddox finally slips their arm away from the back of your seat, while you just try your best not to let your shoulders slump from defeat. They pick up your apparent irritation, offering what you highly doubt is a sincere attempt at soothing you, “Ah, come on now, $name. This is the easy part—all you have to do is eat and smile. The real fun begins after this.” At first, you consider asking the meaning behind that. Remembering Maddox’s habit to evade any and all questions as they please, though, you quickly come to decide against it, settling for glaring down at your plate instead. If there is any consolation to be found in this particular situation, at least the food smells and looks incredible. And the wine that you still so desperately need more of isn’t half bad either. You only wish you could say the same about the company you keep. [[Continue|parlor1]]

<<if hasVisited ("Take Maddox and leave.") or hasVisited ("Tell them you appreciate it.") or hasVisited ("Might as well tease them about it a bit.")>>\ “So, what now?" you ask. Maddox sighs ruefully and runs a hand through their hair. They check their watch swiftly, brows pinching into a frown. Their gaze then drifts to where Santana stands with Florian. “We get back to work. This unfortunate run-in has taken enough time as it is.” Maddox’s hand sets on your shoulder for a second, drawing your eyes up to meet theirs. Lowering your voice, you ask, “You still want me to bring $sthem to the study?” They nod along with the reaffirming squeeze they give your shoulder before taking a step away from you. “Yes,” Maddox says. “We’ll have to pick up speed, though.” You nod again. “Sure. I’ve got it.” Maddox gives you a pleased smile, then leaving your side. You notice Florian’s eyes following them as they slip out of the room, their stare then drifting over to you. [[Wait for Florian to leave.][$nerve--]] [[Head over anyway.][$nerve++]] <<elseif hasVisited ("Stay behind with Harlan.") or hasVisited ("just as badly as the other")>>\ As you walk towards the three, you see Maddox subtly nodding towards the doors of the parlor. You assume it’s to signal to get back to the matter at hand. They quickly say something to Santana and Florian before slipping out of the room once more, the deputy mayor peeling away too before you can round up to them–much to your relief. Santana is already smiling at you when you reach $sthem. Surprisingly enough, it almost feels like returning to a friend. “Is everything alright?” $sthey asks. You nod wearily. “Yeah.” You sigh. “Just getting tired. Tonight has been…” $sTheir smile takes on a mischievous tinge to it as you trail off. “Bullshit?” Your eyes widen–and then you both burst into laughter, you shaking your head. “Yeah, exactly that.” As you both quieten down, you watch Santana peer around the room for a moment--then, $sthey looks at you with a hint of uncertainty. “Wanna step out for a minute?” $sthey asks quietly. “I don’t think we’d be sorely missed if we did.” Well… “Sure,” you smile. Don’t you just love when your work makes itself easier for you? “Great.” Santana’s face lights up with $stheir widening smile. $sThey gestures towards the room’s entrance, taking a step in its direction. “After you.” You glance back over your shoulder as you move past Santana to the doors. You manage to spot Florian in the room, but they’re engaged in a conversation with some other guest, (luckily) allowing you to slink out unnoticed. [[Continue|thehaps1]] <</if>>\

“Have a good night, I guess,” you mumble, taking a step back. Harlan doesn’t answer, just rolling his eyes. How surprising. You scan the room for Maddox, finding them next to Santana and Florian. As though feeling your eyes on them just then, they turn their head towards you—and unless you’re imagining it, there seems to be a slight tinge of worry in their expression. As if wordlessly asking if you’re okay. You pinch your lips together and take a step forward, <<if $nerve lt 1>>trying to ignore<<else>>shrugging off<</if>> the stares you feel following after you. You can’t stress enough how badly you want this night to be over. [[Continue|gettowork1]]

“Don’t strain yourself too much,” you smile wryly, taking a step back. Harlan scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. As you expected. You scan the room for Maddox, finding them next to Santana and Florian. As though feeling your eyes on them just then, they turn their head towards you—and unless you’re imagining it, there seems to be a slight tinge of worry in their expression. As if wordlessly asking if you’re okay. You pinch your lips together and take a step forward, <<if $nerve lt 1>>trying to ignore<<else>>shrugging off<</if>> the stares you feel following after you. You can’t stress enough how badly you want this night to be over. [[Continue|gettowork1]]

“I’ll see you around then, I guess,” you say, taking a step back. Harlan doesn’t say anything, a displeased frown back on his face. Figures. You scan the room for Maddox, finding them next to Santana and Florian. As though feeling your eyes on them just then, they turn their head towards you—and unless you’re imagining it, there seems to be a slight tinge of worry in their expression. As if wordlessly asking if you’re okay. You pinch your lips together and take a step forward, <<if $nerve lt 1>>trying to ignore<<else>>shrugging off<</if>> the stares you feel following after you. You can’t stress enough how badly you want this night to be over. [[Continue|gettowork1]]

Before you can even decide on how to proceed, you see Florian walk away from Santana already, giving you the perfect window of opportunity. You cross over to $sthem with new determination in your step, further fueled by the fact that $stheyre already smiling at you when you reach $sthem. Surprisingly enough, it almost feels like returning to a friend. “Is everything alright?” $sthey asks. You nod wearily. “Yeah.” You sigh. “Just getting tired. Tonight has been…” $sTheir smile takes on a mischievous tinge to it as you trail off. “Bullshit?” Your eyes widen–and then you both burst into laughter, you shaking your head. “Yeah, exactly that.” As you both quieten down, you watch Santana peer around the room for a moment--then, $sthey looks at you with a hint of uncertainty. “Wanna step out for a minute?” $sthey asks quietly. “I don’t think we’d be sorely missed if we did.” Well… “Sure,” you smile. Don't you just love when your work makes itself easier for you? “Great.” Santana’s face lights up with $stheir widening smile. $sThey gestures towards the room’s entrance, taking a step in its direction. “After you.” You glance back over your shoulder as you move past Santana to the doors. You manage to spot Florian in the room, but they're engaged in a conversation with some other guest, (luckily) allowing you to slink out unnoticed. [[Continue|thehaps1]]

Before you can even decide on how to proceed, you see Florian walk away from Santana already, giving you the perfect window of opportunity. You cross over to $sthem with new determination in your step, further fueled by the fact that $stheyre already smiling at you when you reach $sthem. Surprisingly enough, it almost feels like returning to a friend. “Is everything alright?” $sthey asks. You nod wearily. “Yeah.” You sigh. “Just getting tired. Tonight has been…” $sTheir smile takes on a mischievous tinge to it as you trail off. “Bullshit?” Your eyes widen–and then you both burst into laughter, you shaking your head. “Yeah, exactly that.” As you both quieten down, you watch Santana peer around the room for a moment--then, $sthey looks at you with a hint of uncertainty. “Wanna step out for a minute?” $sthey asks quietly. “I don’t think we’d be sorely missed if we did.” Well… “Sure,” you smile. Don’t you just love when your work makes itself easier for you? “Great.” Santana’s face lights up with $stheir widening smile. $sThey gestures towards the room’s entrance, taking a step in its direction. “After you.” You glance back over your shoulder as you move past Santana to the doors. You manage to spot Florian in the room, but they're engaged in a conversation with some other guest, (luckily) allowing you to slink out unnoticed. [[Continue|thehaps1]]

“So what did you have in mind?” you ask Santana once you make it out of the parlor. $sThey looks at you and shrugs. “I don’t know. Have a wander?” $sthey suggests as $sthey walks in front of you. “I could show you around. Not that there’s much to see, though.” You look around with a brow raised. “No? This place could house a small village.” $sTheir bubbly laugh echoes in the now-empty hallway. “Point taken.” You hadn’t had much of a chance to take a proper look around when you’d arrived here, but now that you do, you're a bit taken aback by the sheer amount of... extravagance around you. Sculptures, massive artwork hung on walls—even the carpet beneath your feet feels expensive, and that’s with a shoe in between. It feels criminal to even step on it. “How long have you lived here now?” you ask as you follow after Santana. You have no idea where $stheyve started leading you, your attention too caught by your lavish surroundings. “Hmm, a few years now?” you hear $sthem say. “You like it here?” Santana takes a moment before answering. “Most of the time, yeah.” [[Continue|thehaps2]]

As you continue to wander, you come across a dark wooden side table with a clutter of pictures and whatnot sprinkled all over it. You bow down to take a closer look, a slight grin spreading on your face when you study one, clearly older, candid shot of who you assume is pre-teen Santana. When $sthey notices you’re not following after $sthem anymore, Santana turns around. $sTheir eyes widen when $sthey sees what you’re looking at. “Oh—” $sThey hurries over. “Please save your judgment. I was only thirteen.” $sTheyre rocking bright red hair and what you’d describe a rather bold, probably first shot, at make-up in the picture—to be fair, it’s a far better attempt than what you’d ever be able to whip up present day, let alone at that age. “Not judging,” you smirk as you straighten up. “Comes with the age. You were cute.” You see from the corner of your eye Santana smiling faintly at you. A touch of teasing slips into $stheir voice. “Were? Am I not cute anymore?” You turn to look at $sthem slowly. $sTheyve crossed $stheir arms over $stheir chest, holding your stare. Trying not to let the smile on you grow more, you bite down on your lower lip and shake your head. “Are you fishing for compliments, $smx. Vanhoudt?” you ask, brow raised. “Or…?” Santana’s eyes nearly pop out of $stheir head, $stheir arms dropping down from $stheir chest. The reaction is quite telling, if you may say. “I...” $sThey gawks at you, a nervous laugh escaping from $sthem. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize it could sound like that.” You wave your hand to ease $stheir concern. [[“I don’t mind.”][$santana +=2; $sflirt +=0.5]] [[“I’m just teasing you.”][$santana +=1]]

“It’s fine,” you say softly, letting an easy smile spread on your lips. “I don’t mind.” You’re not sure how wise it is to go down that path, but the thing is that in some weird way, you’ve... come to quite like $sthem, in the short amount of time you’ve spent together tonight. Not in a way you’d be leaping into $stheir arms at the moment, but enough to enjoy a light flirtation where you can get any. It’s not like you’re actually married, and Santana is awfully easy on the eyes. $sThey, of course, doesn’t know of your true marital status—yet, at least, something you’re reminded of when Santana’s face contorts into a baffled half-frown, and $stheir eyes flicker around the hallway nervously, trying to look at anything but you. “Well, anyway...” $sThey clears $stheir throat, the short laugh that follows sounding little strained. “Let’s move on?” $sThey takes a few hesitant steps forward, but then stops again. “And, please. Just call me Santana.” [[Continue|thehaps3]]

“Relax. I’m just teasing you,” you say with a smile. Santana still is visibly embarrassed but relaxes a little at your response. “Way to make a fool of myself right off the bat,” $sthey says with a short, strained laugh. You shake your head firmly. “You haven’t. Not at all.” Santana meets your eye, a feeble smile rising on $stheir lips. $sThey tucks a strand of hair behind $stheir ear as $sthey glances at you one more time, then taking a step backwards. “Shall we move on?” $sThey takes a few more hesitant steps when you make to follow, but then stops again. “And, uh, just call me Santana. Please.” [[Continue|thehaps3]]

You spot a grandfather clock a little way from you — there’s no big hurry yet, but you’d rather play it safe than risk running late from your already busted schedule. “Sure.” You turn back to Santana. Now would be the perfect time for those quick feet of yours to give you some idea how to get $sthem where you need to… Oh, right. Never mind. You got it. “You said The Age of Innocence is your favorite book?” you ask. Santana nods, looking at you a bit confused. “Yes? Why?” “I was just wondering if you were a big reader otherwise.” $sThey nods again, smiling now. “You could say so. At least half the books in our study are mine,” this said with a light chuckle. Well, would you look at that? “Oh?” You take a step closer to $sthem. “Show me?” You don’t have to ask $sthem twice. [[Continue|thehaps4]]

Santana begins to lead you again with a peppy spring in $stheir step, rambling on about the apparently endless literature collection awaiting you. You really do try to listen, yet $stheir voice blurs into the background, as your mind wanders to what’s actually waiting for you in the study. For now you’re just thankful to have someone lead you around. If you’d had to navigate the massive mansion by your lonesome, you would’ve gotten lost in a blink of an eye, all the tan walls and similarly decorated hallways blending into one another. You’re quite sure you took a left turn, then right? Did you walk through a smaller hallway crossing over to another bigger one just now? You recall spotting a Joan Miró a few hallways back, nearer to the parlor. If you just manage to round your way back to it later, you should be solid. “We’re almost there.” The longer you keep walking, all the commotion left behind, a lulling silence falls over you. The sudden stillness has you nearly walking on your toes. [[Continue|thehaps5]]

As you follow Santana around another corner, you soon come face to face with similar double doors you remember from the dining room — and just like few hours ago, the same gripping reluctance to walk through those doors starts to creep over you. But, as much as you may not want to, this needs to be gotten over with. With that in mind… [[You go in first.]] [[You let Santana go in first.][$sanhard++]]

“This is it?” you ask, at which Santana nods. You eye the handles for a moment before setting your hand on one of them. No sound comes from inside the room — at least nothing loud enough to carry out here. That notion steels you enough to push down the handle, the doors creaking slowly open. Before you opens a surprisingly intimate space that makes you think of stereotypical academia with all the classy mahogany furniture inside, the velvet drapes lining the arched windows on the back wall. Ceiling-high shelves spilling with books line the room, and some random stacks of notebooks and stationary discarded around gives a much cozier, warmer feeling to the otherwise striking, almost intimidatingly so, room. Your observing, however, comes to a sudden halt when you hear a sharp gasp from behind you. You spin around to see Santana frozen in place, $stheir eyes wide as plates as $sthey stares blankly forward, mouth dropped open. It’s then when you realize that in your moment of admiration, you’d failed to notice the one thing you… probably should have. “What the fuck?” you hear $sthem whisper just as you turn back around. And when you do, seeing what $stheyre seeing, you’ve got to agree: ‘what the fuck’ is a pretty good summarization of whatever this is you’re looking at. [[Continue|this is you’re looking at]]

You let Santana enter first, turning to close the doors after you once you’ve followed $sthem inside. You’ve hardly had time to check the room at all, let alone turn back around, before you hear $sthem gasp loudly in front of you, staggering back a step and almost colliding into you. “What—?” “What the fuck?” Santana breathes out, cutting your question off. You look past $stheir shoulder— and once you see what $stheyre already seeing, you’ve got to agree: ‘what the fuck’ is a pretty good summarization of whatever this is you’re looking at. [[Continue|this is you’re looking at]]

Santana suddenly seems to snap out of $stheir daze. You watch $sthem swallow hard, $stheir eyes uneagerly dragging up to them. $sThey blinks rapidly a few times, as though not fully sure if to believe what $stheyre seeing. (Can’t blame $sthem for that, can you?) Maddox doesn’t seem to mind $stheir stare, lounging lazily in their seat and letting the cigarette burn up slowly. If anything, they seem to enjoy the all-blanketing fright in the air. They squint against the thick smoke, but meet Santana’s stare and hold it, all the while you just listen to the steady ticking of a clock somewhere in the background. Tic, toc, tic… As the quiet drags on, your and Maddox’s eyes meet. You instantly glance at Santana too, who’s yet to move an inch. With a slight shake of your head, you walk around $sthem to claim one of the seats in front of the desk, coolly stepping over Nolan. You finally see his face fully then. Blonde hair sticks to the pallid, shiny skin of his forehead, blue eyes open but lifeless. There’s a damp spot on the carpet beneath his face, a string of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth. Though objectively not the worst, it’s a grim image still, one even you can’t help grimacing at. Nolan wasn’t someone you’d say enjoyed the favor of many in your field. Even at Killam’s he was mostly known from turning coats whenever he had the chance. It’s safe for you to assume that this is, if not the direct outcome of, then at least strongly related to that. It’s a miracle he’d made it this far, anyway. “So what was this about?” you ask, nodding at him, partially to fill the silence. Maddox rubs the side of their nose with their thumb and sighs. “A favor for a friend,” they say, shrugging indifferently. “I thought you were retired.” Maddox flashes a toothy grin at you. “Most of the time, I am.” [[Continue|thehaps7]]

“How do you know—?” Maddox stands up. “Irrelevant.” You nearly jump out of your seat when they come around to kick the chair next to you, sending it away from Nolan. The scowl you throw goes unnoticed as Maddox leans back against the desk. “I believe I asked you to sit,” they say, narrowing their eyes ever so slightly at Santana. “I’d prefer not to ask again.” Santana purses $stheir lips, pushing $stheir shoulders down and tilting $stheir chin up. $sThey walks over with wobbly, hesitant steps, taking a seat on the edge and folding $stheir hands neatly on $stheir lap. That’s when Maddox melts into a smile again. Your gaze keeps drifting to Santana, but $sthey pointedly avoids meeting your eye. Maybe it’s the (impossible-to-ignore) body lying between you, but you suddenly start second-guessing your decision of bringing $sthem here, a small pang of guilt squeezing at your chest. Trust your rusty fucking conscience to chime in just in time, eh? “There you go,” Maddox purrs. “That wasn’t so difficult, no?” Groaning, you snipe, “Just get to the point, la Zar.” You level a dry stare at them when they pout at you. [[Continue|thehaps9]]

Maddox goes on to dig out another cigarette, wetting their lips before tucking it loosely between them. The few seconds of silence as they light it feel like they last forever. “You have access to someone I need.” Gray smoke rises in weak, thin tendrils from their mouth when they speak, a dragging purr. Santana frowns. “Who?” “Chris Roma,” they say. “I believe $c_they’s started to go by Chroma not too long ago. Talk about lack of imagination.” An unimpressed scoff follows. Santana laughs nervously. For the first time since stepping inside the room, $sthey looks at you, though $sthey averts $stheir startled stare immediately. “I don’t know anything—” “I know. I know you don’t know,” they interrupt, softly. “However, I hear $c_theyre quite fond of you.” Your brows quirk up. It’s safe to say you didn’t imagine Santana being involved with anyone of this side, least of all someone like Chris. $c_Theyre still a newcomer at best, but $c_they’s been making enough waves to rouse growing curiosity among your peers. As to why Maddox has their eye on $c_them, you can only guess. You find it hard to imagine their intrigue to be caused by either jealousy or intimidation. Santana clears $stheir throat but doesn’t answer. The longer Maddox looks at $sthem, their expression changes into something that looks like pity. “$c_They doesn’t have you under $c_their thumb yet,” they continue. “And if you do as I ask, I will make sure $c_they never will.” Santana seems as though $sthey wants to say something, but instead decides against it at the last second. $sTheir lips tighten into a rigid line, and as $sthey looks away, Maddox sighs. The clock keeps ticking in the background. And then... “...Okay.” The word is spoken feebly. “I’m listening.” [[Continue|thehaps10]]

Maddox considers Santana a moment before nodding slowly. They flick the cigarette lazily, ash dropping. “I know Chris is somehow involved with Cruz.” $sThey sighs. “I’ve heard but... I don’t know what their deal is. $c_They won’t tell me about this stuff—it’s not that kind of...” “Relationship?” Maddox suggests as $sthey trails off. $sTheir face drops, and $sthey shakes $stheir head firmly. “There’s no relationship,” Santana scowls. Maddox hums. “Still something close enough that we can use to our advantage.” Ever the charmer, trying to use people they’ve barely just met. You roll your eyes again, wondering if they’ve spared another thought at what they are actually asking of $sthem. “You think this is a good idea?” You nod in Santana’s direction. “Sending someone like $sthem to snoop around Chris?” Maddox shrugs. “It’s the best shot I have. I’d ask around myself, but we’re not on the best of terms right now.” “So it’s a matter of yet another burnt bridge,” you sneer. “How shocking.” Maddox makes a quick face at you, crinkling their nose. When you look back at Santana with a small grin, $sthey doesn’t look half as amused by their pouting (or your poking, for that matter) as you are. “Can we please focus?” $sthey asks flatly, drawing Maddox’s attention back to $sthem. “What am I getting out of this?” [[Continue|thehaps11]]

Maddox seems surprised by the question. Whether it is for the sheer drama of it, or because they are actually considering what to offer, Maddox takes their sweet time clinging to the silence that once more takes over the room. They lean back on the desk with a smug smile. “Besides keeping your life, you mean?” The question hangs heavy in the air. When you sneak a glance at Santana, $stheyre slumped back against $stheir seat, eyes dropped down to $stheir wringing hands. [[“Hate to be the bearer of bad news…”][$sanhard++]] [[“We’re just trying to look out for you.”][$santana +=1]]

“It’s simple quid pro quo, $smx. Vanhoudt,” Maddox chimes in, dropping their cigarette in the same glass of water as before. You and Santana turn to look at them. “I’ve watched Chris tear through a handful of innocent, beautiful little things such as yourself, for no other reason than $c_they felt like doing so.” They continue with a low murmur, tilting their head, “What makes you think you’d be any different?” Santana slumps even more against $stheir seat. $sTheir head drops, and $sthey buries $stheir face in $stheir hands. You see $stheir shoulders heave a few times with the long breaths $sthey draws in, but you won’t intervene, though for a moment you consider doing so. A few moments pass before $sthey lifts $stheir head from $stheir hands with a weak sigh. “If I do what you ask me to,” $sthey says quietly, “me working for you… will it be a permanent thing?” Maddox smiles faintly. “No. You’re free to walk away whenever you so please.” Santana looks at you again, hesitance in $stheir eyes. You… [[Nod.][$santana +=1]] [[Do nothing.][$sanhard++]]

You give a small nod to Santana. A small nudge might be just what $sthey needs — though you’re not sure if you’re the right person to give one. Had you had the chance to opt out of your current situation, you’d ran in the opposite direction as fast as possible. At your nod, Santana rolls $stheir lips together, holding your eye a while longer. Then, $sthey turns slowly back to Maddox. “Okay,” $sthey says. “I’m in.” [[Continue|thehaps13]]

You hold Santana’s gaze, but do nothing. Picking between two evils is a decision one should always make on their own—and you really just don’t want a bystander’s blood on your hands for as long as you can avoid it. When Santana realizes your reluctance to weigh in, $stheir eyes drop again down to $stheir lap. $sThey fiddles with the hem of $stheir blazer — but then, something seems to come over $sthem, and $sthey raises $stheir eyes back up to meet Maddox’s. “Okay,” $sthey nods sharply. “I’m in.” [[Continue|thehaps13]]

A sharp grin spreads on Maddox's lips. They clap their hands together with excitement. “Excellent.” They lean forward, offering $sthem their hand. $sThey scowls at it at first, but then takes it to give it a non-committed shake. “Welcome aboard. I look forward to working with you.” You and Santana glance at each other. You give $sthem a wry smile. $sThey answers with a sole deep sigh. With that, Maddox’s attention finally seems to be freed to other issues. You notice them grimacing at Nolan still lying on the floor between your seat and Santana’s. “Cleaners running late?” you ask. “Unfortunately.” They tut disapprovingly. “I will have to have a word with Gray about this.” Santana pushes $sthemself up from $stheir seat. “If this was everything, I’m going to go now.” Maddox barely looks at $sthem, waving a hand somewhat in $stheir direction. “We’ll call you.” $sThey rolls $stheir eyes before turning sharply away from both of you, not wasting any time making $stheir way out of the study. [[Follow Santana.]] [[Stay with Maddox.]]

Maddox perches against a massive desk at the middle of the room, just about to light the cigarette that droops between their lips, but pausing when they meet your eye. Your gaze drifts as though on its own slowly from them down to the floor, to in front of the desk. To the very much dead man lying there. Right at Maddox’s feet. Well, shit. [[Continue|Well, shit]]

Groaning, you quickly pinch the bridge of your nose. You almost wish you were more surprised. “I see you had your meeting,” you sigh as you drop your hand. They nudge the body with the tip of their shoe. “Don’t mind him.” “Wasn’t planning to,” you mumble under your breath. Santana might feel a bit differently though, you think to yourself. Save for the initial mild exasperation, you’re more struck by curiosity as you take note of the apparent lack of any kind of mess usually related to these... incidents. You tilt your head as you study the scene longer, nothing too obvious sticking out to you: no blood, no smell of lead, no signs of struggle, nothing. It looks as though Nolan had just simply keeled over and stopped breathing. Maddox brings up the lighter they’d fidgeted with, lighting their cigarette with a single spark. The sharp click of it snaps you out of your thoughts. <<if hasVisited ('You go in first')>>Once you remember yourself, you quickly move back towards the entrance. Santana remains perfectly still even when you go around $sthem, you pulling the doors shut with a heavy, dull thud. Though unlikely, you really don’t need someone to walk past and decide to stick their nose where it doesn’t belong right now. <</if>>\ “What...” Santana’s voice is weak, hardly audible -- but you hear it crack nevertheless as you step up next to $sthem. Maddox gestures to one of the chairs placed in front of the desk, one the man has likely toppled over from to the floor. “Sit.” You roll your eyes at them but say nothing. Santana remains by your side, quiet and unmoving. Maddox circles the desk, flopping down on the plush chair behind it. They lift their legs on top of it, crossing them at ankles. [[Continue|thehaps6]]

You’ve barely taken more than a few steps when Maddox calls, “Where are you going?” Stopping in your tracks, you turn around with a frustrated sigh. “What does it look like?” you ask, gesturing towards the doors. “I’m going to talk to $sthem.” A deep quiet where they just… look at you takes over. The longer they do, it feels like there is something like curiosity in their eyes, as though not sure what to make of you, and for a moment, you think they might even tell you not to. But then: “…Okay.” They give you a small nod. “I’ll meet you at the front in, say, fifteen? Grab your coat.” “We’re leaving?” you ask. Maddox nods again, “Yes.” Your legs nearly give out from under you. Oh, thank god. [[Continue|thank god]]

The second the doors close after Santana, yours shoulders slump. Fatigue washes over you with the force of a tidal wave, yet the emotion that comes out on top is some weird mix of relief and worry. You turn to Maddox with a frown. They meet your eye, brow quirking up in question when they take note of your troubled expression. “What is it?” “You’re shoving $sthem right in the mouth of the lion,” you say, a tired scowl tightening your face. “You do realize that, don’t you? That $stheyre putting $stheir life at risk because of you.” Their face falls for a mere second before a new impassive mask builds over it. Maddox’s mouth opens to say something, but you get there first. “In what world did you think sending $sthem after Chris was a good idea?” you ask, voice strained from disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing, Maddox?” They sigh, “I...” The doors opening again cuts them off. Your heart jumps up to your throat when you hear their creak; you whirl around, hand flying to feel for your weapon. Before you can pull anything out, the person who’d walked in raises their free hand, carrying a case of some kind in the other. “Easy, $name,” you hear Maddox say. “You’re late, Gray.” The person in front of you lowers their hand a bit, their eyes trained on you. “The twins had trouble securing the way.” “Hmm.” Gray’s eyes flit over you in quick inspection before sliding past you over to Maddox. “This is the high school friend?” Wait, what? “The very same,” Maddox replies. You can hear the grin in their voice even when you won’t look at them. Gray’s gaze returns to yours. They let their hand return down to their side. “Gray Calford.” “$name $surname.” [[Continue|stay2]]

You hurry out of the study only to nearly crash into Santana pacing right behind the doors. $sThey leaps back with a startled yelp, brown eyes as wide as a deer’s caught in headlights when they meet yours. You realize $stheir hands are shaking when $sthey runs one over $stheir hair. Other sets on $stheir chest as $stheir eyes drop down from you; in the still quiet of the hallway, you hear the shallow, erratic pace of $stheir breathing. “Santana?” You take a step towards $sthem. When $sthey doesn’t move away from you, you set your hand lightly on $stheir shoulder. “Santana, breathe—” “What the fuck was that?!” $sthey cuts you off. “Is this why you were hanging out with me? Just to lure me out here?” $sTheir voice doesn’t lack any accusation. To be fair, you know you deserve it. You find yourself momentarily at loss for words, but then think that after this whole ordeal just now, the smartest move probably would be honesty. “Yes,” you admit quietly. Santana’s whole demeanor crumbles in front of your very eyes, disappointment practically radiating off $sthem. [[“I’m sorry.”][$santana +=2]] [[“I was just doing my job.”][$sanneg++; $santana -=5]] [[Say nothing else.]]

“I’m sorry, Santana,” you say. “I really am.” Santana slides off your hand. “Yeah. Me too.” Though $sthey doesn’t seem a lot calmer yet, at least $stheir breathing becomes a little steadier. $sTheir head drops, and $sthey rubs $stheir face with both hands, groaning in them quietly. Then $sthey looks up at you again. “Are you two even really married?” The question takes you by surprise. “Uh,” you hesitate, “no. We’re not.” Santana nods. “Thought so.” $sThey blows raspberry, brows pinching together. $sThey glances at you, looking as though about to say something more. Instead, $sthey just shakes $stheir head and walks away from you, leaving you to stand on your own. [[Continue|leaving1]]

“I was just doing my job,” you try to reason. Santana shakes off your hand with a scoff. “Oh, well that makes it all better.” Though $stheyre still visibly upset, at least $stheir breathing becomes a little steadier. $sTheir head drops, and $sthey rubs $stheir face with both hands, groaning in them quietly. Then $sthey looks up at you again. “Are you two even really married?” The question takes you by surprise. “Uh,” you hesitate, “no. We’re not.” $sThey blows raspberry, brows pinching together. $sThey glances at you, looking as though about to say something more, but instead $sthey just takes off, shaking $stheir head. “Jesus,” you hear $sthem mutter as $sthey goes. “Fuck you, man.” [[Continue|leaving1]]

Unsure what else to say, you stay quiet, waiting for $sthem to say something. Santana slides off your hand. Though $sthey doesn’t seem a lot calmer yet, at least $stheir breathing becomes a little steadier. $sTheir head drops, and $sthey rubs $stheir face with both hands, groaning in them quietly. Then $sthey looks up at you again. “Are you two even really married?” The question takes you by surprise. “Uh,” you hesitate, “no. We’re not.” Santana nods. “Thought so.” $sThey glances at you, looking as though about to say something more. Instead, $sthey just shakes $stheir head and walks away from you, leaving you to stand on your own. [[Continue|leaving1]]

Gray walks past you to set the case on the desk. Their face doesn’t as much as twitch when they look down at Nolan. “I tried my best not to make a mess,” Maddox purrs with a small smile, moving closer to you. Gray hums under their breath. They tie their black hair, shaved on both sides, in a neat top bun. Your attention is caught by the intricate, bold tattoos covering their pale arms, revealed when they push the sleeves of their dark henley up. “Appreciate it,” they say. “Did he say anything about the other one?” “She’s supposed to show up at Soledad’s party,” Maddox murmurs. “We’ll take care of her there.” Gray glances at them quickly, giving an approving nod but not saying anything more. [[Continue|not saying anything more]]

Maddox’s hand sets on your shoulder, steering you gently away back towards the doors. At this point, you’re too done with the day to even mind the touch as much. “Please tell me we’re finally leaving,” you groan. They chuckle softly. “We are.” Their eyes flit over to Gray for a second. “We’ll have to finish up in here, but I’ll meet you at the front in, say, fifteen minutes?” Sure. If you can ever find your way out of here by yourself, that is. “Sounds good.” As you make to leave, you call over your shoulder, “Was nice meeting you, Gray.” They give you a single nod before you walk out of the room. [[Continue|leaving1][$psg to 0]]

The Foyer 10 minutes of wandering around later You manage to find your way back and to the foyer without attracting too much attention to yourself. As soon as your coat is handed to you, you shuffle to find the quietest corner you can find, hoping to hide from the twists and turns that still might try and creep on you tonight; if any more come, you think you just might lose it. You don’t have any idea how late it is, but judging from the way every last bone and fiber in your body aches, it’s way past recommended bedtime. You find a cozy-looking wall in the corner you’d scurried off to, and you lean against it with your whole weary body, head and all, fighting off the occasional yawn that tries to escape you. You do let your eyes fall closed for a minute though, enjoying the rare moment of solitude you’ve now managed to get for yourself. It’s the first time tonight you feel like you can just breathe — but even as you’re trying to wipe this night off your memory, fractures of the past few hours play in your head on a loop. It’s a disorderly stream of faces both new and familiar, it’s their voices ringing in your ears, it’s the vast fucking absurdity of everything you’ve had to shoulder tonight, starting with Maddox, and ending with a dead man at your feet. After just one night, you’re a tired mess, all over the place. One night. That’s all it took. Maybe you should start thinking about retiring. [[Continue|leaving2]]

To be fair, you can’t complain much either. The food was good. The booze was fine. Your $attire is easily the best one you’ve ever worn, and you didn’t have to pay one cent for it. The few curve balls thrown at you aside, you’ve had much shittier nights than this one, even though you still don’t know the true depth of everything that’s waiting ahead. Maybe that’s what makes it all the more exhausting. You crack one eye open when you hear soft footsteps rounding up, stopping right in front of you. You sigh from relief when you realize who the person is. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” you smirk weakly, “but I’m actually happy it’s just you.” Harlan looks about as impressed with you as he did the last time you saw him. His eyes go over you quickly. “Rough night?” “You have no idea,” you grumble. For a second you think he might smile, the corner of his mouth twitching up at your answer. But… “I have some,” he says plainly. He takes a quick look over his shoulder, then inches a bit closer. You straighten yourself up. “Killam wants to check in with you. Tomorrow.” Huh. “After one day? That’s fast,” you frown. Harlan shrugs. “Unusual circumstances…” He meets your eye. Right. You roll your lips together. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” [[Continue|leaving3]]

He goes on to produce a simple white card with nothing but a number on it, handing it to you. You turn it in your hand and give him a questioning look. “My number,” Harlan explains. “If I’m not there and something feels off, or you run into problems. You call, I come.” “Just like that?” you ask. He nods. “Just like that.” You tuck away the card with a pondering nod. “I didn’t think you’d hand it that easily.” “Don’t let it go to your head,” Harlan snorts. “It’s not my personal one. I wouldn’t give you this one either, but I don’t need Killam after my ass because of you.” Get a load of this asshole. “Charming,” you quip flatly. “I try,” he answers, equally dry. [[Continue|leaving4]]

Harlan narrows his eyes at you. “Why are you asking?” Surprised by the suspicious tone his voice takes, you raise your brow. “Just… because?” Your confused laugh falls short. “I just thought, since you were here tonight too and all…” That’s all the explanation you have. Not that you thought you’d have to justify such a question in the first place. Luckily your response seems to be deemed good enough by him. Harlan stares at you a bit longer before nodding slowly. “Sorry.” He sighs while lifting his hand to rub the back of his neck. “This whole ‘watching after someone’ thing is all new to me. Puts me on the fucking edge.” Now that you can definitely relate to. You grin wryly. “Killam clearly put the right guy on the job, then.” He rolls his eyes but you spy a tiny smile pass on his lips briefly. [[Continue|leaving5]]

“Robusto at noon,” you repeat. “Got it.” Harlan seems pleased enough with your answer, offering a small nod. You let a comfortable silence settle between you, following the slow commotion of the foyer. A moment later, Harlan breaks it. “This is the first time I’m on a job like this.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but you nod understandingly nevertheless. “You and me both,” you say. “How are you finding it?” He angles back to look at you, considering the question. “Tiring,” he ends up answering. The one-word assessment sums up your feelings on the matter quite well, too. [[Continue|leaving5]]

Harlan answers your nod with a small one of his own. You don’t feel like forcing small talk or the like, and so a natural beat of silence takes place between you as you continue to stand together, keeping an eye on the slow commotion of the foyer. [[Continue|leaving5]]

Two minutes later, Maddox is still talking to Florian, only now Cruz has also joined them. Her wife stands near the main entrance chatting to Welles, who also seems to prepare for leaving. “Are you staying with them?” Harlan asks. You groan. In the chaos of the evening, you’d forgotten it’s not your own bed you’ll be sleeping in tonight—or for the foreseeable future. “For now, yeah.” “Then you don’t need a ride.” It seems he says this more to himself to justify the following, abrupt, “Goodnight.” Um? “Bye?” Before he leaves, he throws one last glance at Maddox. Something about how he looks at them makes you feel like you’re staring at an open wound. [[Continue|home1]]

Marina Business Plaza 6.47 AM Most of the time the stories of your kind of people start with a figurative bang; a chase, with you running for your life, or maybe someone running for theirs, escaping from you. Those same stories come with tempting intrigue and overwhelming glamour, a sense of lingering danger, but all that is nothing but the cream covering a rotten cake, closing one’s eyes from the ugly side of all that comes with. You never were one to sugarcoat, to paint your life more golden than it truly is. That is why your story starts somewhere as mundane as the office of your boss, at ass crack of dawn when most of the city still sleeps. [[Continue|intro1]] <<set $chapter to "Pilot">>\

You’ve always thought spring fit Adafield the best. The shy, pale sunlight casts its glow inside the all-white hallway just outside your boss’ office. It’s been a while since you’ve last been called here — Killam rarely handles her operatives personally, but the tone of hers when she’d called you in had told you that this wasn’t about to be your usual gig delegation. As such, you’re not sure whether you should be nervous or excited. Maybe both? Guess you’ll just have to wait and see. You wander to the very end of the hallway, gazing out of the windows there. The blooming green of the trees mixes with the dull gray concrete of the heart of the city, bringing it to life it has sorely lacked all winter. Your moment of admiration, however, comes to a short end, your attention snapping away from the view when you hear the door of Killam’s office open. A severe-looking, gray-haired man steps out. When he spots you, he gestures for you to go in, then heads off without as much as one word. [[Continue|intro2]]

Killam greets you with a curt nod when you slink inside. You move to take a seat in front of her glass desk, her sitting behind it. A few documents along with manila folders are spread over it, looking like contracts from the quick look you manage to take at them. Even though curiosity tickles at the back of your mind, you avert your eyes to meet Killam’s. She’s been the head of the company for a while now, having inherited the business from her late uncle some years before you’d gotten on board. From what you’ve heard, her uncle had started as nothing more than a simple fixer, built his reputation on from that. Not something one could pull off as easily this day, but even for the old man’s time, it was a respectable feat to have stuck around for as long as he did before handing the budding company over to his niece. He’d laid down a solid foundation, and that calls for its own respect--but it’s her that built the empire as it stands today. “I’m glad you could make it today,” she says. Her hand rests on the desk, sliding over to one of the thinner folders lying there. Even with her pushing late 40s now, Killam looks much younger than her age, which you contribute to her sharp, sophisticated appearance: her short, graying blonde hair is styled in neat waves, and the bone-white cat-eye glasses she wears make her hooded blue eyes look nearly cutting. She radiates easy confidence that must come with sitting at the top of the food chain; you can only imagine what that is like. Maybe one day you don’t have to. She soothes down the front of her black-and-white striped blazer dress before shifting her focus back on you. Your posture snaps to rod-straight under her attention. [[Continue|intro3]]

You nod slowly. “You sounded serious over the phone.” “It’s nothing to worry about.” Her hand reaches the manila folder, and she pushes it towards you. “I’m opening two contracts for you. Read them over.” There’s a moment of hesitation before you reach over to take the folder, fishing the contracts from inside it. At first skim, the top one seems nothing too out of the ordinary, looking like any other of its kind that’s come across you. When you take a better look, you quickly come to realize it’s anything but. Almost every section of it reads nothing but ‘to be determined’. Payment, requirements. Then you get to the assignment itself: not a gun for hire, as you’d expected. Not even a ‘rough someone up’ or a lifting gig. Your brows quirk up as you get to the details. “You’re renting me out?” “Keep reading,” Killam says. Biting your cheek, you return to go over the contract. “This says I’m to accompany…?” You drift off and lift your gaze to Killam. “Are we some kind of escort service now?” She looks at you expectantly, nodding for you to still continue reading, and so you do. Not that there’s much left to read through. “See who the client is,” Killam says after a moment passes. Your eyes slide to the bottom of the contract — and when you see the name there, it feels like getting gut-punched. A disbelieving, choked laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you whisper, mostly to yourself. [[Continue|intro4]]

“They asked for you by name.” You shake your head again, easing the contracts back in the manila folder. “I’m not taking this gig.” She narrows her eyes at you, leaning slightly over her desk. “If you think this is a request, you’re greatly mistaken.” The weight of her voice makes you bristle. [[Continue|intro5]]

“You never told me you knew them.” You clear your throat. “I haven’t seen them in years.” She nods thoughtfully. A short silence descends over you, uneasiness twisting the pit of your stomach. Not quite what you thought you’d start the day with. “Take a look at the other contract,” Killam urges. You hold back a sigh, reopening the folder reluctantly and dig out its contents once more. The second document follows a much more familiar pattern, and this one even has all the usual information filled out. Payment and all. “Holy shit.” You slump back against your seat as you read further. “That’s… that’s a lot of money.” When you raise your gaze slowly back to Killam, she meets your baffled stare with a faint smile. [[Continue|intro6]]

“I will have eyes on you at all times,” she says. Your face twists a bit at that. “You’re assigning me a babysitter? Is that really necessary?” “Don’t worry about it. You won’t even know he’s there," she reasons. “It’s merely a precaution. Should something go wrong, you will be taken care of.” “Taken care of?” you laugh weakly. “Meaning?” She answers your question with silence. But even without words, the message settles in loud and clear. No room for fuck ups. “When am I starting?” you ask. “Tomorrow.” Your jaw drops. “Tomorrow?” “Yes.” She nods. “I’d suggest you go and get your affairs in order.” Killam then waves her hand towards the door. You rise from your seat, sliding the two contracts back in the folder and tucking it under your arm. Killam follows suit, showing you to the door. “Don’t let me down,” she says before you leave. [[Continue|1.1][$psg to 0]]

“Is this how it’s gonna be?” you ask. “Me asking all these questions, and you avoiding them?” Maddox raises a brow at you. You think you might even see second-long annoyance flash in their eyes. “Impatience is an ugly trait, $name, and often a fatal one for the likes of us,” they say. It sounds like a warning. Unfortunately, you know they’re right. Left feeling like a child scolded, you pinch your lips together and drop your gaze along with the topic. [[Continue|parlor3]]

There’s a time and place for everything. As much as you want answers, you know it’s best not to push it here and now. Maddox holds your eye, as though waiting. When you say nothing, they look away with a small nod, probably appreciative of you not pursuing the topic further. [[Continue|parlor3]]

“Do that one more time, and I just might break that finger of yours,” you growl under your breath. Maddox seems more amused than anything by the ‘threat’. “You’re welcome to try,” they say; an open invitation. “Though I think you’d rather keep your body intact.” You zip your lips together; figures they’d manage to turn that against you. Part of you feels like you should’ve seen that coming. Another is annoyed by the fact that you didn’t. [[Continue|parlor3]]

You roll your lips together, but a small chuckle still slips out of you. “You don’t seem to be so used to…” You drop your hands to gesture vaguely around you. “This.” “Yeah…” $sThey drags the word, but doesn’t continue after it. You tilt your head curiously. “Not a people person?” you keep poking, keeping your tone carefully light. Santana bites $stheir lower lip at your question, scoffing sharply. $sThey snatches a glass from a waiter passing you two just then, downing its contents in one without as much as batting an eye. Now that has you raising a brow — though you never were one to fault someone for some liquid courage. By the looks of it, Santana could use plenty. So could you. $sThey sets the glass back on the tray, sending the waiter off with a wave of a hand. “I am,” $sthey grumbles, glaring at the other guests. “Just not these kinds of people.” Huh. “Fair enough,” you smile. [[Continue|parlor13]]

Your gaze drifts across the parlor, but la Zar has disappeared from the room altogether, as has Florian with them. The other remaining guests don’t seem to be too alarmed by this, going about their conversations as they have until now. Welles has gotten himself away from Loriann, now sitting by his lonesome over at a plush, velveteen loveseat on the other side of the room, nursing his drink solemnly. You wonder what he’s thinking about to make him seem so blue. Cruz isn’t too far away from him. You catch Welles sneaking uneasy glances at her the few times he looks up from his glass, but she doesn’t notice, preoccupied by two other people you don’t recognize. Their conversation seems that much lighter than the one she’d been having with the police captain before. “Hey, do you know who Cruz is talking to?” you lean closer to Santana. It takes $sthem a moment to search her from the room. “I think they’re from Valda?” $sthey says, sounding unsure. You must look confused (which you are), because $sthey immediately goes on to clarify, “It’s a pharmaceutical company.” “Oh. Does Cruz work for them?” “Not for—with, sometimes, I think. Consulting stuff. But I don’t know a lot about her or them, honestly.” You nod slowly. Makes sense for her to work with a company in the same industry. Remembering her connections to Killam, though, makes you wonder how and if an entire company fits in that particular picture. Looking past one of her companions, Loriann suddenly catches your eye. Her narrowed gaze almost has you flinching, but instead of avoiding it, you meet it head-on. A few moments pass where you hold each others’ stare. Even with a solid distance between you, there’s an undeniable taste of tension in the air. [[Continue|hallway1]]

“I should go…” Santana says meekly. $sThey musters one more, if noticeably weaker, smile on $sthem. “Thanks for the, uh, probably only normal conversation I’m going to have tonight.” $sThey parts from you with head lowered, feet nearly dragging as $sthey crosses over to the deputy mayor. You notice Maddox watch after $sthem with a look you can’t interpret, but feels almost like pity. “Makes you wonder who $sthey really needs saving from,” they say, so quietly you nearly miss it. “What?” Their head snaps to you, as though they’d forgotten for a moment you’re there. It makes you think maybe you weren’t supposed to hear what now seems a runaway thought. “Nothing.” They half-smile at you. “Nothing at all.” [[Continue|parlor18]]

You don’t know why, but suddenly you’re acutely aware of being left alone with Maddox. ‘Alone’, of course, is all relative. But even with people scattered all around you, you realize that this is the first time tonight when no one is really paying attention to you, nor is anyone drawing yours elsewhere. You wonder if they realize this too. “How are we doing on time?” you ask quietly, to keep away the awkward silence you feel coming on. Maddox glances at their watch. “Well enough,” they murmur. “But I’ll have to step out soon.” “Already?” They nod. “There’s someone I need to deal with first. You might know him—Cavalli?” “Nolan?” you ask. When they nod again, you grimace. “He’s here? What’s your business with him?” Maddox remains quiet. Unlike before, this is the kind of meaningful quiet you do recognize, cautioning in its nature. It’s one you’ve had to invoke a time or two yourself. [[Continue|parlor19]]

You let the silence linger a while longer… but eventually, it starts to get suffocating. You try to focus on something, someone else, to distract yourself, only for your gaze to land on Florian. “Do they know?” you whisper. It seems like a sensible thing to ask, even when you know you probably shouldn’t. You wouldn’t call it hesitance you see in their eyes when they look at you. It feels something more of a careful calculation, as though sizing you up; a necessary precaution taken before they answer you. “Yes.” A waiter stops next to you just then, offering more drinks. Maddox declines with a shake of their head, as do you, placing the empty flute in your hand on the tray they’re carrying. When they scurry away, you turn back to them. “Can I ask you something else?” “I suppose it’d depend on the kind of question you want to ask me.” You peer around to make sure no one else is near you. “You and Florian,” you murmur. [[“How did you meet?”][$florqs++]] [[“How long have you known each other for?”][$florqs++]] [[“What’s your relationship with them?”][$florqs++]]

Just as you’re about to go for another question, your gaze slips past Maddox. Your eye is caught by someone near the grand windows you’d admired earlier: a gray-haired man, standing by his lonesome, with his back turned to the rest of the room. A tumbler hangs loosely in his hand as he gazes outside, another tucked in the pocket of his pants. He wears a dark, well-fitted suit that compliments his rather sturdy-looking frame. Even when you can’t see his face, there’s something familiar about him you can’t put your finger on. “That’s weird,” you whisper to yourself. Maddox catches it nevertheless. “Hm?” “Him.” You nod in the man’s direction. “Feel like I know him from somewhere.” They follow your gaze to him. A second after, you hear them draw in a shaky breath. It’s a chilling moment when you turn back to look at them. Punctuated by a heavy swallow that leaves their lips parted, there’s an emotion in their eyes you never thought you’d find there. [[Continue|parlor21]]

“How did you meet?” you ask. “No offense, but it’s just a bit…” “Odd that I know them personally?” Maddox asks, brow quirked up. “Well, yeah.” You chuckle dryly. “Doesn’t really seem like the kind of crowd our people usually mingle with, you know.” Maddox nods, understanding your point. They take a moment, maybe to think how much to tell you. “I met them at a fundraiser,” they say. Noticing your brows shoot up, they grin. “What?” You let out a skeptical laugh. “Just having a hard time imagining you at some charity thing.” Maddox shrugs, a small smile still lingering on their face. “So? Did you donate?” you ask. Your voice takes on a surprisingly teasing tone. They chuckle softly. “Of course. Rather generously, might I add.” They glance at you from the corner of their eye. “Anything else?” <<if $florqs lt 2>>\ [[“How long have you known each other for?”][$florqs++]] [[“What’s your relationship with them?”][$florqs++]] <<else>>\ [[Continue|parlor20]] <</if>>\

“How long have you known them?” you ask. Maddox’s brows pinch slightly together as they think. “A few years now,” they say, though they don’t sound wholly sure. “But we only run into each other at events such as this most of the time.” You grin. “Yeah, can’t really see you grabbing a drink with them to catch up.” Maddox lets out a short laugh. <<if $florqs lt 2>>\ [[“How did you meet?”][$florqs++]] [[“What’s your relationship with them?”][$florqs++]] <<else>>\ [[Continue|parlor20]] <</if>>\

“So… I guess I’m just wondering about your relationship,” you say, frowning a little. “You called them a friend, but they don’t seem very fond of you.” Maddox shakes their head. There’s a faint smile on their lips, but it doesn’t seem all that genuine to you. “Few are.” “It doesn’t bother you?” “That people dislike me?” they ask. You nod. “No. I prefer it that way.” The statement renders you speechless. You’d figured they’re not too concerned about people’s opinions, but… not quite to that extent. It makes you wonder about the state of your own not-relationship with them. Maddox clears their throat. “Was there something else you wanted to ask me?” <<if $florqs lt 2>>\ [[“How did you meet?”][$florqs++]] [[“How long have you known each other for?”][$florqs++]] <<else>>\ [[Continue|parlor20]] <</if>>\

Fear. It’s gone so fast you think you might’ve just imagined it; but as a second turns into ten without them uttering a single word, worry begins to take hold of you. “Maddox?” You nudge them lightly, hoping to shake them from whatever it is that has them so frozen. When you glance back at the man, you notice he has turned around. It’s an instant recognition then: you remember him from the office, from the previous morning. He’d left just before your meeting. Killam’s voice creeps into the back of your mind. I will have eyes on you at all times. His stare bores right into you, even from afar. It has your skin crawling, even though you try your best to will it not to, pieces starting to fall into place. You won’t even know he’s there. [[Continue|parlor22]]

You take off towards him before you even realize it yourself. Maddox doesn’t try to stop you, nor do they follow after you. It feels like walking towards a waking nightmare with eyes wide open. Everything in you screams that you shouldn’t, yet you can’t stop yourself from advancing. He holds your eye the entire time you cross the room. He looks as though he’d expected this. He looks as though he’d expected you. How had you not seen him before? [[Continue|parlor23]]

You don’t know what you’re going to say to him. You don’t know why you’re going to him. Hell, you’re not even entirely sure who he is. You have to force yourself to slow your step enough not to give yourself away, squeezing your hands into tight fists to calm yourself when you finally reach him. You can’t even think about what it must look like on the outside; two seemingly strangers drifted into a weird stand-off, both of you quiet as you size each other up. The air about him is near frozen, expressionless, but something reserved in the way he studies you. You let your eyes go over him too, but your attention gets caught by what seems to be a head of a raven tattooed low on his neck, peeking under the collar of his white dress shirt. …Well, shit. When he notices you staring, he tugs at the collar, covering the tattoo, though not completely. Your eyes return up to meet his when he speaks. “Cedar.” You look around to make sure no one is within earshot. “…Crow.” The call sign comes out more strained than you mean it to. “What are you doing here?” He doesn’t as much as blink at your question. Instead, he levels a thoroughly disinterested stare at you. “Not your concern… [[…Gacem.”|parlor24][$surname to "Gacem"]] (Default) Something else. <<textbox "$surname" "" "parlor24">> [[Continue|parlor24]]

Your mouth drops slightly open. “What?” you grimace. “You’re at my gig. I’d say it’s very much my concern.” Harlan’s expression doesn’t even twitch at your protest. “No, it really isn’t.” His tone indicates little more than clearly that the so-called conversation has ended on his part. You, on the other hand, are not quite done yet. Far from it. In fact, you’re getting dangerously close to being done rolling with the punches for the day. Even the should-have-expected ones. “What are you doing here?” you repeat, taking half a step closer to him. He scowls at your approach, yet you won’t let it scare you off. “Back off,” he growls the words out slowly. “I said it’s none of your business.” You’re about to bark back a rebuttal, but before you can, an all-too-familiar voice comes from behind you. You’re not all that sure if you should be relieved or anything but. “Well, well... If it isn’t the most infamous Mr. Crow himself.” If you thought Harlan looked like a murder on legs before, at Maddox’s entrance, it gets about a dozen times worse. His whole posture grows so rigid he looks as though he’s about to snap in half. So, you’re not relieved. Definitely not relieved. [[Continue|parlor25]]

You move between them on instinct, turning to face Maddox. “Now’s not a good time—” But to absolutely no one’s surprise, they ignore your dire attempt to diffuse whatever this situation about to arise is, a sharp smirk you’re surprised to find on them aimed at Crow. “It’s been a while, Harlan.” “Could’ve been longer, if you ask me,” he shoots back, stiffly crossing his arms over his chest. You look between the two. “You know each other?” Harlan merely scoffs, but Maddox answers with a sparkle in their eyes, “We do. Quite well, in fact.” A fact that Harlan does not seem to be too enthused about, if his sour glaring is any indication. You can’t help but wonder just how many bridges has Maddox managed to burn over the years. The tension between the two is thick enough to cut with a knife. It doesn’t get any better when Maddox goes on to ask, “How are things with your brother?” Harlan narrows his eyes at them. “If I were you, I’d think twice about going there.” Maddox just laughs, completely unfazed. “What are you going to do to me, Harlan? Shoot me on the spot, perhaps?” [[Continue|parlor26]] <<notify 3s>>Contact updated: Harlan Crow<</notify>>\

So there’s that kind of history, then. Great. You glance<<if $nerve >= 2>> nervously<</if>> around. Some few are eyeing the three of you with intent curiosity, though they steer away their stares as soon as you meet their eye. Uneasiness begins to quickly bubble inside of you when you see that even Santana is studying the exchange with a mild frown from next to $stheir parent on the other side of the room. “Knock it off.” You try to keep your voice down, but it ultimately proves to be a useless decision, as your quiet plea falls to deaf ears. “I wouldn’t be the only one wanting to do so,” Harlan growls past you to Maddox. They only chuckle again. “Of that, I have no doubt,” they sigh, smiling. “Yet unlike you, those others who do, have actually bothered trying instead of being all bark and no bite. But you always were more of a lapdog, weren’t you?” They narrow their eyes at Harlan when he takes a step forward, a sharp-toothed grin lengthening their lips. You grunt a cuss under your breath. They just never knew when to fucking quit, did they? [[Tell Maddox to back off.][$maddox -=2; $mneg +=0.5; $harlan +=2]] [[Ask Harlan to let it go.][$harlan -=1; $hneg +=0.25; $maddox +=2]] [[Tell them both off.][$maddox +=2; $harlan +=1]]

You scoff out a sharp laugh, relaxing against the back of your seat. You’re actually kind of glad to focus on Maddox’s voice over all else — as used as you may be to these particular situations, still, it’s… well, it’s always something else to sit over here with a body lying at your feet. “We’re waiting for you, $smx. Vanhoudt,” they say to Santana. Your gaze steers over to $sthem, too. Against your expectations, all the fear and shock seem to have disappeared into thin air from $stheir face, even though $sthey still hasn’t moved. Instead, $sthey stands firm now, taut. $sTheir shoulders are stiff from what you assume is tension, but otherwise $sthey seems steadier than a moment ago. “Are you going to hurt me?” $sthey asks with the smallest tremble in $stheir voice. Maddox shakes their head. “Oh, no. If you’re wondering about this one,” they gesture vaguely towards Nolan, “well, we’ll just say he had it coming.” They drop the nearly burnt out cigarette into a nearby glass of water, crossing their hands over their stomach as they lean further back in their seat. A mischievous half-smile forms on their face as they continue, “But I assume you knew that.” You turn to look at Santana with a confused frown. “In fact, I bet you know much more about him—about me, even $them,” they nod at you, “than you should. Don’t you, Eden?” $sTheir face drains of color at the name. [[Continue|thehaps8]]

“Look, <<cycle "$doll" autoselect>> <<option "doll" "doll">> <<option "sweetheart" "sweetheart">> <<option "buddy" "buddy">> <<option "babe" "babe">> <</cycle>>,” you say. $sThey raises a brow at the nickname. “I hate to be the one to say it, but if you want to get rid of someone like $c_them for good, we’re your best shot at it.” You lean forward in your seat. Santana keeps $stheir expression carefully vacant, subtly straightening $stheir posture. $sThey snickers weakly. “Oh, really? Do you have any recommendations to show me?” From the corner of your eye, you see Maddox cover their mouth with their hand, suppressing a smile. You rest your elbows on your knees, meeting Santana’s eye directly. “I’m not joking,” you frown. $sThey asks through gritted teeth, “Do I look like I’m laughing?” [[Continue|thehaps12]]

“Look,” you sigh, leaning forward in your seat a bit. “We’re just looking out for you, <<cycle "$doll" autoselect>> <<option "doll" "doll">> <<option "sweetheart" "sweetheart">> <<option "buddy" "buddy">> <<option "babe" "babe">> <</cycle>>. I’m sure you know what happens to people $c_they gets… bored of.” “Not always,” Santana says quietly, not meeting your eye. You frown. “Maybe not. But if I were you, I wouldn’t stick around to find out.” [[Continue|thehaps12]]

In the time you stand together, you watch Florian bid goodbyes to a few other guests taking their leave in the middle of the foyer. You’d expected to find Santana by their side, but $sthey shines with $stheir absence; you can’t quite shake the queasy discomfort that takes over when you think back to the conversation in the study. Harlan seems to notice your inner turmoil, watchful of your expression when you look at one another again. Though he won’t say anything, he lifts a brow at you - there’s a moment when you consider spilling your every exhausted, ranting thought on him, but you end up just shaking your head, and return to watching Florian. When you do, you see that the next person approaching them from the side is none other than Maddox themself. When you sigh, Harlan follows the line of your gaze to them. You can’t help noticing how his shoulders tense in a blink. “The small café uptown. Robusto,” he says suddenly. “Tomorrow at noon.” Then he looks at you over his shoulder expectantly. [[“Will you be there?”][$harlan +=2]] [[“Got it.”][$harlan +=1]] [[Nod.|l_nod2]]

Wisteria Park Penthouse (Home?) Sometime over 1 AM The car ride back is a quick but quiet one. The city flashes by you in a blur, the heart of it pulsing with the restless lights of dozens and dozens of ad screens. People bask under the pale glow of them, some coming from work, some heading out into the night. Part of you wants to go and melt into the crowd as you watch them through the tinted window. You guess it’s a natural need by now, to go unnoticed. To just disappear, sometimes, for a moment. Gray is the one driving<<if not hasVisited("Stay with Maddox.")>>; you’d only made quick introductions when they picked up you from Florian’s<</if>>. They spend the ride talking with Maddox in hushed voices, where you can’t make out their words, but you don’t care to. You focus on the low hum of the motor, the whine of the wind that has picked up as you head towards the little hours. You feel winded and tired and too everything to even appreciate the soft leather cushioning of the car that welcomes your weary frame with warmth. You want a bed. You want to pull covers over your head and forget. It feels surreal when you pull up in front of the building. You’re still in the process of opening your seatbelt when Maddox has already stepped out and opens the door for you. They offer you their hand to help you out, but you ignore it, climbing out on your own. The door slams shut. Maddox pats the roof of the car twice, and Gray drives off, tail lights vanishing into the night. You walk inside in tow, not talking. Maddox greets the doorman as you pass them, but you just push forward. You’re tired. You’re so, so tired. It’s all you can think about. [[Continue|home2]]

Ding. Floor 36. You follow Maddox out of the elevator and into the dark apartment, both kicking off your shoes as you go. Full moon shines its light inside from the high windows of the living room, bathing the white walls to blue. You watch them walk further, first shrugging off their black, oversized wool coat. “Make yourself comfortable,” they call over their shoulder. The suit jacket is next to go; they set both neatly on the back of the plush, light couch that sits in the middle of the room. At the farthest wall stands a bar counter, where they cross off to, ducking behind it to grab a bottle of water. “Bedroom?” you ask. You hadn’t had the chance to snoop around earlier. Your suitcase is still where you’d left it, by the stairs to your left. “There should be two guest rooms upstairs. Take your pick.” “Should be?” Maddox rounds back to the couch, flopping down on it. They shrug. “I don’t stay here often.” [[Continue|home3]]

Upstairs. You head there almost blindly. Your movement is becoming robotic, your sole mission to get some desperately needed sleep, and to put behind today. You wander around, dragging along your suitcase, trying each door you find. Every room that’s revealed looks pristine, untouched, as though no one had been there in weeks. You settle for the farthest bedroom you find. It has a bathroom right across it; the less you have to move around here, and the more privacy you can get, the better. The room itself is almost the size of your whole apartment. It lacks decoration, the queen-sized bed with its five or so heavenly looking pillows in the middle the clear crown jewel. You leave your suitcase next to it, then looking around. One window takes up the entire right-side wall. Adafield opens before you, Wisteria Park and its waking verdancy right at your feet. You can even see the water tower in Lafayette from up here, even though it’s barely the size of the tip of your thumb, dotted in the indigo horizon. You turn back to your suitcase. Grabbing it, you lift it on the bed and open it. You only fish out your sleepwear and tuck them under your arm; rest you’ll unpack tomorrow. [[Continue|home4]]

The underfloor heating of the bathroom is a pleasant surprise. You soak up the warmth of the light gray tile floor as you brush your teeth. Familiar <<cycle "$eyes" autoselect>> <<option "black" "black">> <<option "brown" "brown">> <<option "hazel" "hazel">> <<option "gray" "gray">> <<option "green" "green">> <<option "blue" "blue">> <</cycle>> eyes stare you back under the glaring light of the cabinet when you look up from the sink to the mirror. You spit away the toothpaste and rinse. You move on to wash your face, splashing it with lukewarm water. Your <<cycle "$skintone" autoselect>> <<option "brown" "brown">> <<option "dark brown" "dark brown">> <<option "tan" "tan">> <<option "olive" "olive">> <<option "ivory" "ivory">> <<option "pale" "pale">> <</cycle>> skin looks duller than usual; you put it on the exhaustion. Your last concern is your hair. [[Literally. You don’t have any.][$hairlength to "none"]] [[You mean, it’s there. You just don’t do a lot with it.]]

Which is why it also isn’t exactly high up on your list. You smooth your hand over your head, and with that, slip back into the bedroom. [[Continue|home6]]

Your hair is what it is: <<cycle "$haircolor" autoselect>> <<option "brown" "brown">> <<option "dark brown" "dark brown">> <<option "black" "black">> <<option "red" "red">> <<option "blonde" "blonde">> <<option "you’ve dyed it" "you’ve dyed it">> <</cycle>>, <<cycle "$hairlength" autoselect>> <<option "it’s short" "short">> <<option "it reaches your chin" "chin-length">> <<option "it reaches your shoulders" "shoulder-length">> <<option "it’s past your shoulders" "long">> <</cycle>>, and it’s <<cycle "$texture" autoselect>> <<option "curly" "curly">> <<option "coiled" "coiled">> <<option "wavy" "wavy">> <<option "straight" "straight">> <</cycle>>. You’ve slipped a bit on the upkeep, but it’s not in the worst shape just yet. You smooth your hand over it just so it looks decent enough for the two seconds it takes you to slip back into the bedroom. [[Continue|home6]]

You succumb to your bed. It welcomes you with open arms. … <center>1.59 AM</center>\ You toss. <center>2.23 AM</center>\ You turn. <center>3.01 AM</center>\ You dig your phone from under your pillow and open The Adafield Gazette’s front page. Might as well catch up with the changes of the local world since sleep seems to have abandoned you. Someone’s robbed the grocery store not far from your home again (you think it’s the second time this week, seventh of the month). There’s an announcement that the annual puppy parade is being organized in Wisteria Park next week. Yesterday, a double homicide in Crestview. APD finds itself helpless in the face of increasing organized crime in Lafayette and Westhill Commons. A 19-year-old has been found dead in Oaks’ gated community. An overdose. The ‘new drug’. You tap the article open. ‘Red sugar’, it seems they’ve named it. [[Continue|home7]]

It first hit about--a year, two?--or so ago, as predominantly a problem of the higher income areas. A party drug for the rich kids, it was speculated. Then it spread to the grown-ups; first ODs started rolling in. It seemed to scare off then-users enough for the statistics to drop drastically for a while, but then it resurfaced soon enough, striking twice as hard. Something about it feels off to you, but you can’t really say this or that about this particular area of unlawfulness. It’s never been of your expertise. The APD has been on it the entire time. The issue they have is the same it’s been since the beginning: no one knows where the stuff originates from. The drops are few and far, too random not to be somehow calculated, but near impossible to draw a pattern from. People who might know someone or something refuse to speak—not that there have been many caught. You’d even heard that the entire surveillance system of the city was temporarily shut down the last time a shipment had come in. That last one you’d shrug off as nothing but an urban legend, but even still it’s clear enough that whoever it is organizing it either has some serious pull, or they know what they’re doing down to an excruciating detail. You scroll through the article one eye open. They’re building new recovery centers. Private ones, of course. Money is the single greatest motivation in this city, from toddler to grandma, after all. [[You’re no different. Money is why you do what you do, and you like it.|home8][$moneydriven to true; $jobdriven to true]] [[You’re here for the money only. Not because you enjoy it.|home8][$moneydriven to true; $jobdriven to false]] [[You just drifted into this job.|home8][$moneydriven to false; $jobdriven to false]] [[You don’t give a shit about the money, but the job itself is enjoyable.|home8][$jobdriven to true; $moneydriven to false]]

<<if $jobdriven is true && $moneydriven is true>>\ Yes, you like the money. Yes, you might have a bit of a violent streak in you. It seemed only logical to end up in a job that combines the two rather spectacularly. Though it might’ve not been intentional at first, you’ve now grown a rather fond relationship with your career, and made your peace long ago with the consequences of it. <<elseif $moneydriven is false && $jobdriven is false>>\ It started what you’d call the usual way. Little things, like debt-collecting and light lifting jobs. Before you even realized it, you’d gotten better. You’d gotten faster, smoother, stealthier and more effective. Then came the first promotion, and the second after that. Then you were asked if you’d thought about applying your new skill set elsewhere, and since you hadn’t figured any other way to go about your life, you accepted. It pays the bills. You don’t really care one way or the other about the moral qualms of it all. You’re just doing as you’re told, floating along the current. <<elseif $jobdriven is true && $moneydriven is false>>\ Gruesome, yes, but enjoyable. Might sound concerning put like that, considering what you do, but you don’t have great complaints either. You’ve met dozens of interesting people (who are more a given than a rarity in this field), you’ve learned every dirty, dark and despicable nook and cranny of Adafield most people can only guess about, and though it’s not high up in your priorities, the pay isn’t half-bad at all either. A single hit can at its best sustain your lowkey living for an entire month, depending on how desperate the client is to get rid of their headache. It’s more than enough for you. <<else>>\ Sure, you’re good at what you do, but that doesn’t mean you like it. Money is a far bigger concern for you, and since the pay is what it is (unstable, yes, but a great one), you’ve willed yourself to set aside whatever conflicting feelings it might arise in you. Even a broken clock is right twice a day; you’ve told yourself this each time you’ve taken a life, as twisted comfort. It’s not enough yet it has to be. <</if>>\ At 3.17 AM, you officially give up on sleep. [[Continue|home9]]

Leaving your phone to charge, you push yourself up and drag yourself back downstairs. Maybe a glass of water and stretching your legs a little will ease your restlessness. You peer around when you reach the bottom of the stairs. A bit further to your right is a door that’s cracked open, a dim light lit inside. Another bedroom, maybe. You wait to catch a shadow cross the light, but none comes; Maddox hasn’t gone to sleep yet either then, you figure. Maybe you’re not the only one feeling off tonight. Slipping past the living room, you head off into the kitchen. You find them there, back turned to you; they’re still wearing the same clothes from earlier, black dress shirt and dark red suit pants, you note. You can’t see what they’re doing, but they don’t seem to have noticed you, hunched over the counter. [[Approach them.][$maddox -=5]] [[Call from where you stand.]]

Unsure how to announce yourself, you ease a few steps forward. A simple ‘hi’ feels too awkward, or so you tell yourself, still racking your brain for an opening as you shuffle even closer to them. When you’re within an arm’s reach from them, you muster out, “He—” But then you see a silver flash—hear a swish, metallic glimpse in the dark right before your eyes, and you have less than a second to react, and you— [[Dodge?!]] [[Disarm?!][$nerve++]] [[Freeze.][$nerve--]]

Maddox flinches a little when you call a quick “Hey,” from where you stand. They turn around, seeming surprised to see you. “Hey,” they say back. There’s a short moment when neither of you knows how to continue, glancing around the dark kitchen awkwardly before looking at one another again. “I thought you were asleep.” “Couldn’t get any...” You lean your side against an island counter, gaze running along its surface. “What are you doing up?” “Same as you, I suppose.” And then you fall quiet. Again. [[“This is… weird. Very weird.”][$maddox +=1]] <<link "You just want to fill the silence with something." "ohwell">><</link>> [[Keep quiet.]]

You just about manage to leap a stumbling step back with a yelp. Thank god you do. You really weren’t planning to lose body parts, or your life, to end the day. “What the--?!” you shout, flailing your arms wildly, eyes wide. “Hello!” The knife drops from Maddox’s hand to the counter with a loud clatter. They press a hand on their chest, almost doubling over when they breathe out a sharp breath. They don’t look too satisfied with you when they raise their eyes back to you. “Son of a—” The words come out hoarse. “What do you think you’re doing?!” You scoff, gesturing around. “I don’t know, getting stabbed apparently?” Their voice is calm and controlled, but there’s a clear enough edge to it for you to hear it. “Lose the attitude, $name. You should fucking know better than to sneak up on someone like that.” They run both hands through their hair. It falls free from the messy bun it’d been put in, Maddox’s eyes closing as their head falls back with a heavy groan. They angle away from you, mumbling something under their breath. Probably nothing of flattering sort. [[Continue|1teatime]]

You hard-trained reflexes kick in not a split second too late. Your hand shoots up, and you manage to catch their wrist, redirecting and slamming their hand with all your strength down against the edge of the island counter next to you. There’s a crack and a rough ‘fuck!’ and a clatter, as the knife drops on the floor. It bounces just over your feet before it stills, all over in a blink of an eye—and then, comes a deep, deep silence. Your eyes meet, theirs startled and as wide as you imagine your own to be. There’s a moment where you just stare one another, the sound of your combined erratic breathing the only one, as you try to wrap your head around what’d just happened. “What do you think you’re doing?” you ask, out of breath as you blink yourself back in the present. A scowl forms on Maddox’s face; they yank their wrist free of your hold and take a step back. “I could ask you the same thing,” they snarl, shaking their (only slightly injured, hopefully) hand lightly a few times. “You should know better than to sneak up on someone like that. I thought you were asleep.” Maddox ducks down to pick up the knife from the floor. You frown. “Are you…?” They discard it on the island counter, running their hands through their hair with a long, rough inhale. It falls open from the messy bun it’d been fashioned into. “I’m fine,” they grumble. [[Continue|1teatime]]

It’s only a blink and the thin, cutting edge of a knife presses against your throat, just under your jaw. Your breath catches—no, it stills entirely, as the reality seeps in: you’re a less than an inch away from getting your shit torn open, and all you wanted was just to say ‘hey’ and a glass of fucking water. Maddox stares at you wide-eyed, the hand that holds the knife to your neck perfectly still, its blade not touching your skin, yet still near enough for you to feel it’s right there. Your heart drums in your chest with the might of a battalion, the pulsing beating of it carrying up to your ears. The realization that it’s just you bleeds quickly into their eyes. Maddox releases the front of your shirt you hadn’t even noticed they’d gripped with haste, pulling away from you with a sharp breath. The knife falls onto the island counter next to you with a clatter. They run both hands through their hair as they angle away from you with a deep, collecting inhale. It falls open from the messy bun it’d been in. You swallow hard. “I—” “Never,” they hiss, voice rough, “do that again.” [[Continue|1teatime]]

“This is so weird,” you mumble, more to yourself than anything. Maybe pointing out the obvious out loud will help dispelling the uneasy-but-not-too-much atmosphere around you. Maddox looks at you with a faint smile, head tilted. “What is?” “This.” You laugh weakly, gesturing between you and them, and around you. “Everything about it.” “You haven’t done anything like this before?” They sound genuinely curious. “Can’t say I have. You?” Maddox shrugs. “Once or twice.” They give you another smile. “You’ll grow used to it.” [[Continue|1teatime]]

You shift in your place, trying to come up with just… something to say. Anything. But the best you come up with is a dragging, almost pained, “Well…” It doesn’t have quite the effect you hoped it would, as the silence continues to linger. Your eyes meet with Maddox’s, if only for a second, before their gaze drops to their feet. “Well.” “I don’t know what to say here,” you admit with a low voice, letting out a weak laugh and tapping your fingertips against the surface of the counter. Maddox studies you for a moment before nodding. “Not every silence needs to be disturbed.” It’s awfully poetic, but a surprisingly good point nevertheless. [[Continue|1teatime]]

<<if $maddox <= 40>>\ You let the silence drag on, averting your gaze from Maddox. You don’t exactly have anything to say to them, and forcing a conversation is the last thing you want to do right now. They don’t seem too enthusiastic to pick a conversation with you either, turning away from you again. <<else>>\ Unsure what to say, you let the silence go on. Maddox keeps their gaze trained on you, expectant and even curious for you to say something. When you don’t, they tilt their head slightly. Even in the dark, you think you spy a small smile on them. <</if>>\ [[Continue|1teatime]]

<<if hasVisited("Approach them.")>>\ The next few moments are... strained, to say the least. There’s a scowl on Maddox’s face that looks like it’s there to stay, their movements as they turn away from you stiff, almost jerking. <<if $nerve >= 3>>You try and shake off the tension off yourself, drawing in a long breath while focusing on your belly button. It dispels some of the shakiness left in you, though you remain (figuratively) on your toes.<<else>>You remain frozen in place, still left shaken, and who could blame you? You can be as experienced as the next one, but having a knife <<if hasVisited ("Freeze")>>to your throat<<else>>swung at you<</if>> still ought to leave you a bit disgruntled.<</if>>\ <<if $maddox >= 38>> You’re not expecting an apology of any kind--which is why when you get one, you’re left almost as shaken by it as you were by the altercation causing it, even if it’s spoken over their shoulder and comes with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. Knee-jerk reaction.” Even though they can’t see it, you give an understanding nod. They turn back around, now with a cup in their hand. Maddox gestures to a silver teapot near where they’d been hunched over. “Chamomile. There should be enough for you, if you’d like some.” They then nod vaguely in the living room’s direction. “I’m going to step out for a smoke. Feel free to come with.” <<else>>\ Knowing not to expect an apology (or another word out of Maddox, it’d seem), you decide to take furthering the not-conversation in your own hands. “What are you doing?” you ask. “Tea.” The word comes out rigid and quick, almost spit out. Only then you notice there’s a cup on the counter where they’d been hunched over. Maddox takes it before gesturing to a silver teapot nearby curtly, barely looking at you. “Chamomile. Serve yourself.” Then they head out, not saying another word. <</if>>\ <<elseif hasVisited("Call from where you stand.")>>\ The uneasy air of the room dissipates ever so slightly when Maddox turns back around. The next time they face you, they have a cup in their hands; a waft of something sweet and herbal lingers in the air, you notice then. “Tea?” you ask, at which they nod<<if $maddox <= 39>> half-heartedly<</if>>. <<if $maddox >= 38>>\ “Ah, yes.” They tip their chin in the direction of a silver teapot that you spot on the counter then, near where they’d been hunched over. “It’s chamomile. There should be enough for you, if you want some.” Maddox begins to leave, squeezing themself past you. It’s a narrow fit between you and the counter, but they manage it easily--it makes you think of a cat slinking through a gap in a gate. You turn to watch them go. “Where are you heading?” you ask<<if $nerve >= 2>> gingerly<</if>>. “Balcony,” they call over their shoulder. “You can join me, if you want.” <<else>>\ “Yes...” Maddox glances at you, but looks away just as fast. They seem a little reluctant when they nod at a silver teapot residing on the counter near where they’d been hunched over. “Serve yourself.” As they begin to leave, rounding from the other side of the island sat in the middle of the kitchen, you ask<<if $nerve >= 2>> hesitantly<</if>>, “Where are you going?” “Smoke.” The answer is curt, spoken over their shoulder. No invitation to come along follows. <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[Continue|1teatime2]]

You go on to whip up a cup just right for your tastes, though it takes a good minute with you going through the rows of cabinets in the blind search for everything you need. Once you’ve tailored your tea to your satisfaction, you head off in the same direction Maddox had taken off to. The glass-panel doors to the balcony aren’t too difficult to spot, right next to the bar counter in the living room. <<if $nerve >= 3>>Hesitation gets the better of you when you see Maddox through the glass,<<else>>You stop to loiter by the doors for a moment, watching Maddox,<</if>> slouched in their seat at a small round table outside. <<if $maddox >= 40>>As soon as they spot you through the glass, they wave you over.<</if>>\ <<if $maddox <= 34>>\ Their head turns, and they see you. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for, but whatever it is, it never comes; they look at you just a second longer before turning away. <<elseif $maddox >= 35 && $maddox < 40>>\ You’re not sure what to expect when their head turns and they see you. They keep looking at you for a while through the glass, and you think you might see a slight frown on them, though you can’t be sure. Before long, they wave you over, a tinge of hesitance in the gesture. <</if>>\ You take in a slow breath, grasping the cup in your hands a little tighter, before making your way outside. [[Continue|1teatime3]]

<center><h2>CHANGE PRONOUNS?</h2>\ <<liveblock>><<if $They is "She">>✓<<else>>✦<</if>><</liveblock>> <<link "She/her">><<set $They to "She">><<update>><</link>> <<liveblock>><<if $They is "He">>✓<<else>>✦<</if>><</liveblock>> <<link "He/him">><<set $They to "He">><<update>><</link>> <<liveblock>><<if $They is "They">>✓<<else>>✦<</if>><</liveblock>> <<link "They/them">><<set $They to "They">><<update>><</link>> You prefer to be called... <<liveblock>><<if $spouse is "wife">>✓<<else>>✦<</if>><</liveblock>> <<link "Wife">><<set $spouse to "wife">><<update>><</link>> <<liveblock>><<if $spouse is "husband">>✓<<else>>✦<</if>><</liveblock>> <<link "Husband">><<set $spouse to "husband">><<update>><</link>> <<liveblock>><<if $spouse is "spouse">>✓<<else>>✦<</if>><</liveblock>> <<link "Spouse">><<set $spouse to "spouse">><<update>><</link>> [[BACK TO CONTACTS|contacts]]</center>\

It’s surprisingly warm, now that the wind has died down. You’re struck by the beauty of nighttime Adafield from your new vantage point, slowing your step enough to take in the view as you cross the balcony. The sky has turned deep blue, almost black, bright stars dotting its canvas with the absence of clouds to hide them; high-rises near and far cut into the view with their long, dark silhouettes, stretched over the horizon as though casting a shadow. The great, white moon looms overhead, the cold shine of it almost intimidating. Watching her watch over you like she has all these years weights your chest with sudden wistfulness. Some few windows of the buildings around here and there still pour a light into the night. It’s somehow so comforting, the thought of not being the only one sleepless. The city, stilled right beneath your foot, feels so calm and undisturbed at this hour. Like you could whisper here, and someone all the way in Oaks would hear it, if they just listened for it closely enough. <<if $maddox <= 39>>You’re taken by surprise when Maddox decides to open a conversation, even if their voice sounds a little tight. “It’s a great view.”<<else>>Your attention is drawn away from the view when you hear Maddox’s voice. “It’s a great view, isn’t it?”<</if>> “<<if $maddox >= 40>>Yeah, it is<<else>>Uh-huh<</if>>,” you comply, claiming your seat across them at the small table. You set your cup down on it, then drop your hands to your lap to rub them against your thighs; warm though it is, it’s still not quite that warm. [[Continue|1teatime4]]

You spend the next few minutes without speaking, the quiet lulling over you like an invisible blanket. There’s almost something wondering about it--when was the last time you’d sat side by side like this, watching over the city you’d once sworn to conquer? It’s such a distant memory now it feels like you’d just imagined it. “Want one?” Maddox offers in a soft voice; a pack of smokes rests in your middle. [[“I don’t smoke.”|1teatime5]] [[“Yeah, sure.”|1teatime5][$smoking to true]]

<<if $smoking is false>>\ You shake your head. “No thanks.” “Do you mind if I...?” “No, go ahead.” You steer your gaze back to the night sky as they go for the cigarette. <<if $maddox >= 40>> “How long have you been smoking now?” you ask to keep up the smalltalk they’d started, though you didn’t mind the silence either. Maddox clicks their tongue weakly. “Too long.” They sigh. “I should quit.” “It’s difficult. Or so I’ve heard,” you try to sympathize. You hear them scoff out a laugh, but they won’t answer. An alarm starts blasting somewhere far below you. Mere minutes later, red and blue lights invade the dark, the edges of them climbing up the walls of the buildings. You hear Maddox sigh. “We should talk about the job,” they say quietly. <<else>> You don’t bother pushing for more small talk; you let your eyes close for a moment, face still tilted up, enjoying the occasional gentle night breeze on your skin. You hear a few clicks, and soon the familiar scent of menthol and tobacco sneaks in the air. An alarm starts blasting somewhere far below you. Mere minutes later, red and blue lights invade the dark, the edges of them climbing up the walls of the buildings. Your eyes drift back down from the sky slowly as you hear Maddox sigh. “We should talk about the job,” they murmur. <</if>>\ <<elseif $smoking is true>>\ “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” You reach for the pack and fish one out, tucking it between your lips. Maddox follows suit; you wait for them to light theirs first. <<if $maddox >= 40>> “Here.” They lean over the table between you, bringing the lighter to you, and you meet them halfway. The flame warms your face the two seconds it’s there. <<elseif $maddox >= 35>>\ “Here.” They hand the lighter over to you. You take it with a small nod, quickly lighting your own before setting it back on the table. <<else>> They discard the lighter on the table, gaze pointedly kept away from you. You pick it up with a roll of your eyes, quickly lighting your own. <</if>>\ You take a long, long drag. You’re not one to romanticize bad habits, but there is just something about this. The bitter, toxic taste that coats the tongue; it’s almost like self-punishment, but one that leaves you in bliss. An alarm starts blasting somewhere far below you. Mere minutes later, red and blue lights invade the dark, the edges of them climbing up the walls of the buildings. You hear Maddox sigh. “We should talk about the job,” they murmur. <</if>>\ “Now?” They shrug. “Now is as good a time as any, no?” [[Continue|What’s the job really about]]

You scratch the back of your neck, gaze falling to your lap. “I don’t even know where to start. Tonight, I guess.” You glance at them. “Can you finally tell me what’s this whole thing with Cruz and Welles? Florian?” They take a moment to think, twirling the cigarette in their hands. Your eye is caught by the inked floral patterns that run almost up to their fingers on both of them, but avert your stare again when they speak. “I…” They roll their lips together, brows pinching together. “I started digging around them a while ago.” “All three?” you ask, confused. “Why? Did you find out something?” Maddox half-nods. “It’s the red sugar thing. I didn’t think much of it at first—thought it was just another fleeting phenomenon when it started.” Yeah, well, you all know how that went. You <<if $smoking is false>>nod, keeping your eyes on them<<else>>shed the ash off your cig<</if>>. “So what happened?” [[Continue|whatchanged]]

They laugh a bit awkwardly. “I was approached by a friend in the APD.” Your brows shoot up. “You’re buddying it up with the force?” “One cop,” they correct. “The only one who actually cares about what’s happening in this city. I’ve known him for years now. We, ah…” Maddox trails off, rubbing one side of their jaw. The way they avoid looking at you helps you put two and two together faster than you’d like. “Ah. You were sleeping with him, weren’t you?” The sheepish grin on their face is like a kid’s caught elbow-deep in a cookie jar. “Something like that.” [[“Isn’t that risky?”|whatchanged2][$react to "1"]] [[Because of course they did.|whatchanged2][$react to "2"]] [[Oh. Ew.|whatchanged2][$react to "3"]]

<<if $react is "1">>\ “Aren’t you worried he’s gonna rat you out?” you ask, brow raised. Maddox shakes their head. “He could’ve done it a dozen times already if he wanted to.” That answer suffices to you. You clear your throat<<if $smoking is true>>, taking another drag before continuing<</if>>. <<elseif $react is "2">>\ You honestly don’t know why you’re even pretending to be surprised. Scoffing out a laugh, you shake your head<<if $smoking is true>>; you take another drag before continuing<</if>>. <<elseif $react is "3">>\ You’re making a face at them before even realizing it (like, come on). Maddox chuckles quietly. “I know, I know.” Then they sigh, looking a little lost in thought for a beat. You clear your throat subtly. <</if>>\ “So this… guy of yours,” you murmur, “was he how you found out about Welles and Loriann?” Maddox nods. “He saw them meet down at the precinct a few times. Not long after that, the new stuff spread there. So,” they shrug, “he told me what he’d found out so far, and I became curious. I did the groundwork. I asked around where I could.” They sound a little impressed when they continue, but there’s a certain tension to their voice. “It’s a pretty simple but effective op they’re running. Valda for manufacturing, string of shell corps and charities to process the money. Welles on the hitlist so he won’t cause issues now that they’re expanding.” “And Vanhoudt?” you ask. “Knows about it and washes their hands of the thing,” Maddox smirks, “while the private sector ‘wellness’ company they’re a major silent partner of, oh so conveniently, announces constructing two new recovery centers right around the corner.” They shake their head sharply, murmuring low, “Greedy, opportunistic asshole.” [[Continue|whatchanged3]]

Maddox falls quiet after that, tilting their face to gaze up to the sky. “So... what do you want to do? What’s your angle here?” you ask after a while. “Take the business to yourself?” “No.” They put out their cigarette, slouching even further in their seat. “I want to get rid of it. Them.” You level a blank stare at them, sarcasm thick in your voice, “I didn’t think you’d discourage criminal activities.” Maddox laughs, but it falls short and hollow. “I don’t.” “So why now?” “I’m leaving the city. In fall.” A languid smile takes over their face as they turn to look at you. “Thought I’d give every last person who’s gotten on my nerves the final fuck you before I do.” “You wanna take them down out of pettiness?” you ask, not able to hold back the disbelieving amusement from your voice. They shrug, their smile widening still. “Pretty much, yes.” [[Continue|1teatime7]]

You blow out a breath,<<if $smoking is true>> putting out your smoke before<</if>> leaning forward in your seat. Now that the whole picture is starting to form in your head, you can be sure of one thing: this is so, so above your pay grade. Ridiculously beyond it, in fact. “So, what do you think? Are you in?” Maddox asks. “Do I have a choice?” you ask dryly, looking over your shoulder at them. They raise a brow at you, seeming nearly offended by the question. “Oh, please. I contracted you only because I wanted to make you hear me out,” they say. “I know we didn’t part on good terms. I wasn’t sure if you would listen without a middleman; at least this way you had to.” You have to admit, it’s a fair point. You drop your head in your hands, pressing your fingertips against your temples with a groan. Getting into little trouble in high school together was one thing, but this—corporate hunting, going after the APD? Shit, the deputy mayor, even? You can already feel a headache coming, rubbing circles with your fingers. You doubt this is what Killam had in mind when she signed you off to them. It certainly isn’t what you had in mind. “Come on, $name,” you hear Maddox purr. “You’re asking me to orchestrate multiple high-profile hits with you in the span of, what? Just a couple of months?” you grumble. “And a heist or two.” They wink at you when you <<if $maddox <= 39>>glare<<else>>glance<</if>> at them. “It’ll be fun, I promise. For old times’ sake. Then I’ll be out of your hair for the rest of your life.” You bite your cheek. <<if $maddox <= 39>>That last part sure does sound tempting right now. <<else>>\ At the start of today that last part would’ve been a great motivator. Now you’re not so sure anymore. <</if>>\ [[Continue|1teatime8]]

You straighten back up with a slow exhale, letting your gaze rest on the horizon as you weigh your options. Dusk is starting to make way for dawn, warm edges of the sun rising peeking in the distance. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a long day with the amount of sleep you’ll be getting tonight. You turn to look at Maddox then—really look at them, and they look you right back. There’s that same child-like mischief in their eyes, still, a decade and something later, and it feels like a circle come close. The roof of your high school might’ve turned into one of a penthouse, but you’re still just two kids wanting to take on the world. They must notice you’re cracking, corners of their mouth upturning. You swing your head away from them with a sigh. “Fuck it,” you say, ready to laugh because you can’t believe what you’re about to say next. “Let’s do it.” <center>[[End Episode|end]]</center>\ <<notify 3s>>Journal unlocked<</notify>>\

<div id="topbar"><div id="bbblock"><div id="bbtext"><<button ''>><<run UI.saves()>><</button>><<button ''>><<run UI.restart()>><</button>><<button ''>><<run UI.settings()>><</button>><<if hasVisited('1.6')>><<button '' "contacts">><</button>><</if>><<if hasVisited('1teatime8')>><<button '' "journal">><</button>><</if>> </div></div></div> <script>var myDiv = document.getElementById('passages'); myDiv.scrollTop = 0;</script> <<if $They is "They">>\ <<set $they to "they"; $their to "their"; $them to "them"; $theirs to "theirs"; $themself to "themself"; $theyre to "they’re"; $mx to "Mx"; $They to "They"; $Their to "Their"; $Them to "Them"; $Theirs to "Theirs"; $Themself to "Themself"; $Theyre to "They’re">> <<elseif $They is "She">>\ <<set $they to "she"; $their to "her"; $them to "her"; $theirs to "hers"; $themself to "herself"; $theyre to "she’s"; $mx to "Ms"; $They to "She"; $Their to "Her"; $Them to "Her"; $Theirs to "Hers"; $Themself to "Herself"; $Theyre to "She’s">> <<elseif $They is "He">>\ <<set $they to "he"; $their to "his"; $them to "him"; $theirs to "his"; $themself to "himself"; $theyre to "he’s"; $mx to "Mr"; $They to "He"; $Their to "His"; $Them to "Him"; $Theirs to "His"; $Themself to "Himself"; $Theyre to "He’s">> <</if>>\ <<if $spouse is "spouse">>\ <<set $Spouse to "Spouse">>\ <<elseif $spouse is "wife">>\ <<set $Spouse to "Wife">>\ <<elseif $spouse is "husband">>\ <<set $Spouse to "Husband">>\ <</if>>\ <<if $spronoun is "he">><<set $sthey to "he"; $stheir to "his"; $sthem to "him"; $stheirs to "his"; $sthemself to "himself"; $stheyre to "he’s"; $smx to "Mr"; $spronoun to "he"; $sThey to "He"; $sTheir to "His"; $sThem to "Him"; $sTheirs to "His"; $sThemself to "Himself"; $sTheyre to "He’s"; $sTheyve to "He’s"; $stheyve to "he’s"; $schild to "son"; $mijx to "mijo"; $sser to "sir"; $sSer to "Sir">> <<elseif $spronoun is "she">><<set $sthey to "she"; $stheir to "her"; $sthem to "her"; $stheirs to "hers"; $sthemself to "herself"; $stheyre to "she’s"; $smx to "Ms"; $spronoun to "she/her"; $sThey to "She"; $sTheir to "Her"; $sThem to "Her"; $sTheirs to "Hers"; $sThemself to "Herself"; $sTheyre to "She’s"; $sTheyve to "She’s"; $stheyve to "she’s"; $schild to "daughter"; $mijx to "mija"; $sser to "miss"; $sSer to "Miss">><</if>>

<center><h2>MENU</h2>\ <<if $relationships is true>> [[CONTACTS|contacts]] <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited("1teatime8")>>\ [[JOURNAL|journal]] <</if>>\ <<link "SETTINGS">><<run UI.settings()>><</link>> <<link "SAVES">><<run UI.saves()>><</link>> <<link "RESTART">><<run UI.restart()>><</link>> [[BACK TO STORY|$return]] </center>

<center><h2>JOURNAL</h2>\ <<if hasVisited("1teatime8")>>\ EPISODE I. You helped Maddox recruit Santana. You agreed to help Maddox take down the Red Sugar scheme. Wild summer ahead of you, buddy. <</if>>\ <<if hasVisited ("ep2ending")>>\ EPISODE II. <<if $ripgigi is true and $killedgigi is "santana">>\ 1 <<elseif $ripgigi is true and $killedgigi is "pc">>\ 2 <<elseif $ripgigi is false and $killedgigi is "santana">>\ 3 <<elseif $ripgigi is false and $killedgigi is "pc">>\ 4 <</if>>\ <</if>>\ [[BACK TO STORY|$return]]</center>\

<center><<timed 2s>><h1>[[PILOT|intro]]</h1><</timed>></center>\

<center><<timed 2s>><h1>[[EPISODE ONE|dinner1]]</h1><</timed>></center>\