bo's a piss-poor liar on the best of days (except he can keep one hell of a secret apparently), but this is something else. frustration bubbles because the cause is immediate when he looks down at her with bloodshot eyes, his lips fumbling over the edges of words as he messily clinks his glass against hers. 

"walking this way to...the women's bathroom," she says and peers around him where a decent line of women wait with drawn faces and crossed ankles.

"last i knew, you don't really do this," she says and waves her arms around. tone it back, will. she pinches her brow, summons whatever ounce of patience she has left, and peers up at him. 

"are you here on an assignment? like ollie?" say yes. say yes so i don't have to wonder how you're getting home.

boruta maher

☉

after hearing penelope's drunken accusations and losing ollie among the throes of other drunks, willow was starting to feel a little annoyed. granted, she couldn't fault her new best friend for taking shots at her; she'd invited her to. it was genuine curiosity (at least that's what she tells herself) but now she's in a mood she doesn't like being in and she's uncomfortable. 

she had promptly abandoned the drink penelope bought for her at being half full. something about the conversation, the angry slurring, had willow thinking twice about tonight. that and ollie's drunken texts to her only reinforced the idea that she had to stay sharp for the two of them. 

they're nearing the end of the night, of which has technically become morning. the bar crawlers are rowdier than ever and the liquor is still flowing. she tries calling ollie a couple of times, but eventually gives up. 

he's here. he'll find her. and she'll take him back to his hotel and be done with this night. 

she feels a little self-righteous when she orders a ginger ale from the bar and the bartender almost looks relieved after getting through a round of some complicated looking martinis. he passes it over to her, waves off her bills, and turns to the next customer. 

still, she follows penelope's frustrated instructions and opts not to take up more space at the bar. it's crowded anyway. but as she's squeezing through people (which is hard, given her size, and she's not wearing any heel), her gaze lifts to a tall, broad-shouldered bo a few armlengths away. 

they lock eyes and she frowns and he turns away from her and she thinks, oh, hell no, and pushes her way through the crowd, more assertive this time around. 

and then when she catches his wrist and her brain catches up to her, she realizes she has no idea what she wants to say. 

"were you running away from me?" she says, and then louder because it's so noisy inside. 

boruta maher ollie morales

☉

"no truck," she agrees, though she's definitely not going to be making it home on horseback with that giant bewear plush. the taxi she ends up taking is sure to give her some flack for it, but it only makes her smile to think about it. 

she's sipping on freshly squeezed lemonade (which has far too much sugar in it, which is a shame) and coughs a bit when he just comes out and says it. she looks up at him, feels that something in her tummy, and shyly slips her hand in his. 

"that sounds nice. yes. yes, i'd like that very much."

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

there are looks. there are snickers. somewhere along the way, someone stops her and has to repeat their question several times before she can understand what they're saying. finally, sheepishly, she hands her empty glassware back. with nothing to do with her hands, she fiddles with her mask. 

lance's own is in her other, dangling by a string, still damp and sticky from the bubbles. 

after a decent amount of distance, she's forgotten to the rest of the going-ons and their minor interruption is overshadowed by the next brilliant thing to occupy simple minds. she scours the halls and eventually finds him on the balcony. 

it's quieter out here; only a few other couples sway drunkenly to what music drifts outside. she wraps her arms around herself and joins him under a standing heater. holds the mask out in a peace offering. 

"can i ask why?" she says.

LANCE VOLLANS

☉

they're almost completely oblivious to their wet clothes and when bo rounds on her, she expects that to be it, but she flinches away when lance's fist comes in for one last punch. and before she can get a word in otherwise, lance is shoving away from the both of them, swearing under his breath, and willow is left feeling as though she has done something very, very wrong. 

her lip trembles. her brows knit and she's thankful for the mask hiding the angry flush in her cheeks. the anger and the disbelief are constricted by choking fear at the stranger before her, lip busted and eyes dark. 

if she says something, she won't be able to stop because the thump-thump-thumping in her chest is a beast that wants out. they already have a crowd, but it's the attendant that rushes over to clean up the spill that finally breaks her out of her angry stare. 

she shakes her head and stalks past him to go find lance.

actions speak louder than words; ollie had gently reminded her of that the first night bo came back, when she thought maybe bo would uphold all of her promises. and here? now? his sorry doesn't mean anything. 

boruta maher LANCE VOLLANS

☉

she's still feeling warm after her dance with ollie morales , even if their topic of conversation leaves her pained for him. his off-the-shoulder cape swishes as he turns and her gaze follows him as he wanders off. they'd disengaged by the edges of the dance floor so she manages to sidestep others quite easily, lingering gaze finally leaving her best friend to scour the rest of the room. 

at the far end, she spots a swath of red hair and recognizes PENELOPE LIVY . at that, she turns back in the other direction and heads back to the banquet table where she'd last seen lance and bo. 

on her way, she's offered a glass of champagne by the rotating waiters. feeling light on her feet, she opts to take it with a smile and has a healthy dose of bubbles settling in her tummy when she spots the pair of men.

her glass nearly slips from her hands when someone walks by her and the next thing she sees is bo lurching forward to punch her boyfriend in the face. the full-blown slugfest puts her at a standstill and then all at once she is in front of them, eyes rimmed red with anger, and the rest of her champagne is soaring in the air to drench the both of them. 

"stop it! stop it! what the hell do you think you're doing?"

boruta maher LANCE VOLLANS

☉

elisabet eyes the newcomer curiously and then straightens her back when maisy expresses a certain awestruck interest in her. willow smiles, nodding to her as she crouches down to inspect the pair of eyes peeking up at her from the pelipper's oversized beak. 

"this is elisabet. raised her from a sewaddle with my dad." elisabet's antennae shiver, making a rattling sound of prideful confirmation.

"did you know your pelipper found a friend?" she asks. 

@maisy

☉

less elegant is an obviously homemade basket sitting on your doorstep. under the cover of a pastel knit scarf, its yarn chosen to bring the strawberry out in your hair, is a bundle of delicately dried flowers. they rest atop a scratched cookie container, one that's clearly been used many times over in a small, but homey kitchen before.

tugging the ribbon off of the tin reveals a few honey cakes, slathered with a variety of homemade jams.

tied to the bundle of flowers - snapdragon, alstroemeria, and saffron crocus - is a small note made up of short, cramped letters:

my dearest elisa,

when my life is a perfect storm of awful, you are there to remind me of the little pleasantries in this life - why we do what we do. why we love what we love. your friendship means the world to me. i promise, in the new year, we'll make more time to see each other. 

with love,
willow

Elisabeth Fiorelli

☉

willow had not done any training since her battle with bo. well, save for the queen bee incident, but she had mostly relied on Greyson Connors for everything, notably ensuring they escaped with their lives. the complete lack of confidence is what has forced her to take a day off every week to gain said confidence. 

but it's not that incident alone. she's slowly realizing just how dangerous a place her home has become - for her, for roman, and for everyone else she cares about. she's seen too many of them battered and beaten after spending their days like superheroes. 

what if she's ever put in a position where she could have done something? if only she knew how. 

"oh." she startles when elisabet chitters next to her, pointing with a delicate leaven arm. "hi there. sorry, i wasn't paying attention. nearly ran into you." 

@maisy

☉

penelope has most certainly had too much to drink. idly, willow wonders if she should call the councilwoman a cab. there's absolutely no way the redhead is getting in the back of the car willow's driving...with ollie sharing the backseat. if that isn't a recipe for disaster, willow doesn't know what is. 

no, don't call her while you're drunk. where are you? i moved on to the next bar so meet me there.

she feels bad sending ollie on a wild goose chase, but penelope's looking for a fight and after what ollie's told her, she's fairly certain they won't end the night all singing kumbaya together. 

the laughter makes her jump and she nearly drops her phone. annoyed, she flips it back onto the bar (facedown this time) and gives penelope her full attention. 

"is that what this is about? i'm not going to apologize for being friends with him." she pauses, takes a small sip and rejoices in the fact that she can still speak coherent sentences - more than her company can manage. 

"but i'll entertain the idea. tell me what you know about me, penelope."

PENELOPE LIVY

☉

ollie's more than a head taller than her, but hugs have never been awkward for the two of them. the masks, however, pose a bit of a challenge, and she's careful to tuck her cheek up over his shoulder, straining as much as she can up on her toes to embrace him. her arms are up around his sides, fingers curling against his shoulder blades.

he's nothing like the young kid he was when they first met. his heartache is heavy with a weighted history she'll never really understand because as close as they were, he was gone for a very long time. gone long enough that sometimes the way he moves or talks, she doesn't recognize him. 

she has to remind herself to embrace these changes - that there is more of ollie to know, to share, to love, but she still sniffles a bit when he sets her back down. 

"have a kid at seventeen. makes you grow up real quick," she says with a smile. before he can draw his hand back, she snatches it and kisses his knuckles. 

"thank you for the dance, mysterious stranger. it was a pleasure, but i think it's about time i go find my date."

ollie morales

☉

it's dangerous, really, having him in the car, and that only stresses her out more. because she can't help but cast glances over to him, expression taut with worry (and a bit of leftover anger). she harumphs under her breath when he smiles at her and has half a mind to dump him back at the hospital. 

only he'll probably just call someone else and she'd rather know he's being taken care of. so she gets over it and she says, "i'm sorry," very sincerely and moves her hand off the stick shift to pat his lap.

her focus goes back to the road because the windshield wipers are working overtime but they're not really accomplishing much. she slows to a near crawl and squints through the rain. a couple of local landmarks stand out to her and her relief is palpable.

"bo's okay. tired, i think. he's...had a lot on his mind." he's unsure if ollie had heard about the news CIAN MAHER had 'leaked.'

she blinks. "wait, did you mean lance?"

ollie morales

☉