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iluvroadrunner6) wrote2026-03-07 06:25 pm
iluvroadrunner6) wrote2026-03-07 06:25 pmget your words out { 2026 } gywo yahtzee
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iluvroadrunner6) wrote2026-03-07 06:25 pm
SET #1: ACE (pictures) (audrey/duke/nathan)
who says i can't have tears on my birthday baby ~ haven ~ 300
Audrey heads back to the hotel a few days later to inspect the remains of her birthday party. Balloons remain scattered on the floor, abandoned plates and decorations—fortunately all the food is gone so the place doesn’t seem like something out of Great Expectations. Instead, it’s simply the sad remains of a birthday that didn’t see itself to fruition. Especially considering the birthday girl spent most of it trapped in a dinghy with someone else pretending to be her.
The silence echoes through the room as she tries to put the pieces of the night before together. Not just the problems that were caused, but all the things she missed. The warmth of surprise, followed by the fear. She still doesn’t know how Nathan figured out who the shapeshifter was. And Lucy Ripley’s necklace is burning a hole in her pocket, only adding more questions to her already long list.
Audrey moves to sit in one armchair, staring down into the colorful balloons and finding no answers. She isn’t sure what it is about this place, about Haven, that draws her in. She doesn’t understand why the shapeshifter thought she could help him. Is that what Lucy did? Did she help them?
The silence of the hotel sinks in, and she doesn’t like how alone and isolated she feels. She knows it won’t change when she leaves this room. Going back to Haven, she’ll be just as alone with her questions and concerns.
But in the end, she knows the answers won’t be found here. She grabs a trash bag and pops each of the balloons one by one and cleans up the mess. Part of her wishes she had enjoyed the party. Not many people have thought about her birthday lately.
Maybe next year things will be better.
if you miss the train i'm on, you will know that i am gone ~ haven (au) ~ 300
By the time Duke calls Nathan to tell him she’s here, Nathan’s already a couple drinks in. He also doesn’t need to be told. He saw her the moment she got off the train.
She’s not Audrey anymore. That much is evident in everything from her hair to her swagger to her makeup. But he does know that if he had reached out to brush her arm, he’d be able to feel the softness of her skin, or the tickle of her hair. Part of him wants to hope against hope that Audrey will be able to break through the cracks but he knows that isn’t how it works.
This new girl isn’t going to be Audrey. She will be an entity onto herself.
But she’ll help people. Help the people of Haven who need it, and manage the Troubles, at least for a little while. And when it’s all said and done, maybe she’ll be able to help him too.
So when Duke calls and says the words “She’s back,” he already knows. But that doesn’t stop Nathan from wanting to ask all the same.
“What’s her name?”
“Lexie.” Nathan can hear the smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Rhymes with sexy.”
Nathan snorts, before rubbing at his eyes. “Do you think it’ll be different this time?”
“Probably not.” Duke is a cynic at heart. Nathan wouldn’t have expected a different answer. “But we can try.”
Nathan nods, before swallowing. “You’ll have to tell Bethany.” Duke’s niece is sticking her nose into everything these days and Nathan knows Duke has been holding back on all of the family secrets.
“That’s a tomorrow problem,” Duke replies. “For tonight—I’m just glad she’s back.”
Nathan can’t be sure he would say the same. But maybe that’s a tomorrow problem too.
i count the words that i'm never going to say ~ haven ~ 200
They’re all gone.
Nathan would love to say he was prepared for the loss. Prepared for at least one of them. But he stands on the cliffs of Haven, alone, staring out at the rocky beach below and knows that he was prepared for none of it.
Vince.
Dave.
Duke.
Audrey.
The last one is certainly the one that hurts the most. It’s the one that threatens to consume him from the inside out. Nathan’s spent most of his life alone, on the outskirts of everything else in Haven. But he had managed to find people. Managed to learn to lean on people. And now he’s back to being alone again.
He knows that he’ll find his way again. His Trouble is gone, this time for good. There’s a whole town of people counting on him, looking to him to rebuild. They’ll start over, somehow. He’ll start over. But for now, all he can do is stare out into the distance and hope that somewhere out there they’re looking back.
He’ll miss them and mourn them, and maybe twenty seven years from now, he’ll see them in the faces of others.
For now, all he can do is say goodbye.
hold me like you'll never let me go ~ haven ~ 100
Audrey’s head droops to rest against Duke’s shoulder, and he glances down, watching her as she sleeps. Part of him says that he should dislodge her. Even if it’s a cramped space, she rejected him.
That should be the end of it.
He can’t say he’s ever had a friend like Audrey. Even when she was Lucy, she wasn’t Audrey, and maybe it’s because he’s older, but it’s almost as though her entire context changed. No, even with that kiss or the complex feelings, he’s not done with Audrey Parker.
Let’s just hope she’s not done with him in return.
gone to flowers every one ~ haven ~ 100
The stars swirl above Audrey on the inside of the barn.
Part of her almost misses the sterile walls in the face of endless opportunity. Then again, this is a new barn, one made of Audrey’s desperation and hope and love. It makes sense that this barn wouldn’t be a prison but a celebration of releasing Haven from the harm Mara inflicted on it.
Vince steps next to her, warm and solid by her side, and tips his head to the side with a smile. “Where to next?”
“I don’t know,” Audrey says with a small smile. “Let’s find out.”
SET #2: FIVES (words) (derek/thea)
but man i still think them cats are crazy ~ dctv/teen wolf ~ 600
Nyssa orders him several pizzas, which he consumes with the fervor of a man in need of calories. He also lets Thea pepper him with questions: How did he become a werewolf? Was he bitten? Does he gain an excessive amount of hair on the full moon? Has he been to London? She’s disappointed when his origin story amounts to “I was born this way,” but it keeps him awake until the pizza is done and he can drop off into a comfortable snooze on Nyssa's—or Thea’s—couch.
When he wakes up, the rest of the house is still asleep. He finds the keys to the car on a table near the door, leaves a note, and takes the car to get it detailed. As he climbs out of the driver’s side seat when he returns, he sees Thea standing at the front door, coffee cup in hand.
“Stealing cars now?”
“I’m not that inconsiderate.” He passes her the keys. “I got it cleaned. Now, no more blood everywhere.”
“Does your car guy also work on designer shoes?”
Derek pauses before shaking his head. “I don’t know. Probably not. But I can replace those too.”
“I may take you up on that. There’s coffee if you want some.”
“Please.” He follows her back inside, moving into the kitchen to fix himself a cup. “Nyssa up yet?”
“She went to pick up breakfast. She was almost supremely annoyed that you disappeared without saying goodbye until she found your note.”
“I try to only do that in life or death circumstances. Not that she likely believes it.”
“I think she was also annoyed because in her opinion you owe us one, and she was going to call it in.”
Derek’s eyebrows climb. “Should I be concerned?”
“I mean, I don’t think you’re going to be doing any less bleeding than you were last night, but we could use the backup. The Lazarus Pit we’re trying to get to has way more assassins around it than the previous ones.”
“Probably because you’ve been destroying the others and they’re catching on?”
“Probably.” Thea rolls her eyes. “So protective of their resurrection murder pits.”
“How dare they. I have to check in with Stiles and let him know I’m still alive, but other than that, sure. I think I can handle punching a few assassins.”
“Great,” Thea beams a smile back at him as the door to the safe house opens. “Nyssa will be pleased. Stiles can come too if he wants.”
Derek snorts. “Stiles is not going to be that useful.”
“Rude.”
Derek glances up to see Stiles in the entrance to the kitchen. “About what?”
“I can be plenty useful.”
“Against a pack of highly trained assassins?”
Stiles pauses before making a face and shaking his head. “Never mind. Did that in high school. Don’t want to do it again.”
“I have so many questions.” Thea holds out her hand. “Thea Queen.”
“Stiles Stilinski. Nyssa told me where to find you.” He shakes her hand before pulling back. “I’m guessing we’re going to be sticking around for a while?”
Derek nods. “At least until my debt to Nyssa is paid.”
“Fun,” Stiles nods. “Guess we’ll have a good chance to get to know each other better.”
Derek can’t help but catch the way Thea’s gaze lingers on him as she nods. “Yep. I think this is gonna be fun.”
She leaves to get dressed, and Stiles waits until she is out of earshot before shaking his head. “You are in so much trouble.”
Derek sighs into his coffee. “Tell me about it.”
oh, but you and i know what this world can do ~ dctv/teen wolf ~ 600
Thea Queen is in possession of many things.
A sharp wit, an overprotective brother, a considerable trust fund, and several martial art skills. But what she isn’t in possession of is a lot of extra body fat or an internal furnace designed to keep her warm. And this particular Lazarus pit is in the coldest circle of Hell.
She was warned and bundled up appropriately, but that only does you so much good for so long. So while Nyssa scouts ahead to see if there’s any additional trouble, Thea goes the route of distraction.
“So why are you in trouble?”
Derek’s head snaps in her direction, brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”
“I heard you in the kitchen with Stiles earlier. He said you were in trouble, and you said, ‘Tell me about it.’ What, exactly, is there to tell?”
A flush comes to Derek’s cheeks that has nothing to do with the cold, and she tries to resist the urge to grin. “You heard that?”
“I did.”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“So it was about me.” Thea smirks. “What exactly about lil ol’ me makes Stiles think that you’re in trouble?”
“Stiles knows I have a particular type,” Derek explains as he turns his eyes back to the tundra ahead of him. “And you fit that type.”
Thea raises an eyebrow. “Short and mouthy?”
“Could kill me without breaking a sweat?”
Thea can’t help it. She laughs, because while she absolutely could, that doesn’t mean that she will. “So you like ‘em dangerous, huh?”
“I don’t think so. Honestly, I probably would have had a much easier life if I didn’t. But that just … is the pattern.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you I have no aspirations of killing anyone that I don’t have to?”
“It does. Puts you leagues ahead of at least two of my past romantic choices.” Derek considers before giving a small shrug. “But we also don’t know each other that well.”
Thea blinks before looking back at him. “Are you assuming that when you get to know me, you won’t actually like me anymore?”
“What? No. No.” Derek looks up at her, panic crossing his features. “Other way around.”
“Oh.” Thea tips her head to the side with a smirk. “So you’re saying that I’m cooler than you.”
“Most people are.”
“At least you’re self-aware,” Thea turns her eyes back to the tundra for the moment. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think that’s true.”
“That you’re not cooler than me?”
“Oh, I’m definitely cooler than you. But I think you might meet my standards in other ways.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. If we ever finish being human popsicles out here, I’ll be happy to show you.”
Derek continues to watch her for a moment before reaching out and tucking an arm around her, pulling her in close to his side. She’s unable to resist the happy noise as she’s pressed into the warmth of him. Of course, werewolves would also be literal space heaters.
“Better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” She lets the silence settle for a moment before looking up at him again. “When we’re done, do you want to go get something warm to eat? Like soup? Or hot chocolate?”
Derek nods. “Yeah. I think I’d lik that.”
“Okay. Good.” With that, they fall back into silence again, sharing the warmth of Derek’s body. She’s just about to start up the conversation again when Nyssa appears.
“Ready?”
“As we’ll ever be,” Thea replies before drawing her sword and following Nyssa into battle. Fingers crossed things get warmer from here.
you gotta join me on my page ~ dctv/teen wolf ~ 600
“So how honest do we want to be?”
The question is a challenge. Derek knows it the moment he hears it. He doesn’t think she intends it to be as much of a challenge as he may hear it, but he pauses as he settles with his coffee cup to actually think it through.
“You already know my most obvious secret.” That of being a werewolf, though he’s not going to say that in the middle of this crowded coffee shop. “And we are in public.”
“True.” Thea glances over her shoulder, considering before her eyes fall on the park across the street. “We could go for a walk in the park?”
“I thought you were avoiding being cold?” he teases and she smirks.
“You did pretty well at keeping me warm.” Thea tips her head and gets up from the table. “C’mon. Let’s take our coffee to go.”
The chill in the air is less than it was near the pit, so the walk is more pleasant than their earlier adventures. Thea still links her arm in his anyway as they wander into the quiet park.
“So,” he begins, “where do you want to start?”
“You said you haven’t dated a lot of good people?”
He frowns before shaking his head. “It’s kind of a fifty-fifty split? But I also haven’t really dated much.”
“Really?” She raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“A lot of my family died in a fire when I was in high school. Processing that took up a lot of time, so I didn’t really date.”
Thea nods slowly, because she gets that. “I lost my dad and thought I lost my brother when I was little. I took the opposite approach and went full self-destructive.”
“Oh, I was definitely self-destructive,” Derek smirks. “Just not with my relationships. But I’m sorry, about your dad.”
“Me too.” Thea pauses. “Turns out he wasn’t actually my biological father, but I didn’t find that out until a lot later.”
“That must have been hard.”
“It was,” Thea nods. “And my biological father turned out to be a monster so that was even worse. But I think finding out was good, in a weird way. It made all of the weird things about me make sense.”
“Sometimes it’s one of those things that you just need to make the most of,” Derek nods. “You have to take the good with the bad.”
“So we’ve covered horrific family trauma,” Thea says with a smirk. “Any other horrors we should get out of the way before we get to actually do the fun first date stuff?”
“I’m sure there are plenty,” he replies. “But that’s the worst of it.”
“I’ll take it.” She tugs him to a stop in the middle of the park. “Though I think there’s one more thing I want to try, before we get too far.”
Derek raises an eyebrow, but Thea tugs him in closer pushing up on her toes to brush her lips against his. He relaxes into her touch, slipping his hand around to the small of her back to pull her closer as they deepen the kiss. She makes a soft, happy noise as her arms wind around his neck, and Derek just lets himself sink into the moment, one he doesn’t get to indulge in all that often.
When the kiss breaks, he blinks open his eyes to look at Thea before raising an eyebrow. “So? Do I check all the boxes?”
She flashes him a grin, before nodding and turning to resume their walk through the park. “Yeah. I think you’ll do.”
imma knock out your lights ~ dctv/teen wolf ~ 600
“Something doesn’t smell right.”
Thea is coming to appreciate the fact that she can take him at his word in that respect—if Derek mentions that something doesn’t smell right, he means that literally. She pauses at the entrance to the warehouse, glancing back at him to see what he means.
“How so?”
“It’s … acidic. Kind of drowns out everything else.” He shakes his head slightly, almost as though he’s trying to get it out of his nose, and it’s so dog-like she can’t help but be amused. “Just be careful.”
“Will do.” Thea nods as she turns her attention back to the door and draws her katana to make her way inside. For once, they’re not dealing with a League of Assassins problem, but a werewolf one. Makes sense that whoever is creating the problem would use werewolf defense tactics. Her eyes scan over the hallway before she catches sight of the waxy white powder. “Is that what you’re smelling?”
Derek crouches down to get a better scent before reeling back in response. “Yep, that’s it. Smells like camphor.”
“Is that a normal werewolf distraction tactic?”
“Not one I’ve come up against. But these people may not be hunters.”
“Which means they’re operating from a different playbook.” So the human, maybe, should take the lead. “Okay. Stay close and let me know if you notice anything else weird.”
Derek nods, moving back to her side as they circle further into the warehouse. Nothing seems to block his hearing, however. He reaches for her arm to stop her, holding up two fingers and then pointing to one junction ahead of them. Thea nods in agreement before going and planting herself against the wall, before quietly counting down. “Three, two …”
On one, they charge toward the voices, and everything fades to a haze of violence for a while.
When they come out the other side, they’ve fought their way into the central room where an angry-looking coyote paces in a cage not too far from them. Thea glances around the room to make sure there are no other surprises before nodding to the cage.
“That her?”
“Yep.” Derek steps forward, studying the cage as though he’s looking for a way to open it. “Doesn’t look like I can force it.”
“Looks like there’s some kind of electronic lock.” Thea moves back to the computer console, and after noodling around for a moment, the lock on the cage clicks and the door swings open. With that, the coyote leaps out and starts running towards the door. Derek watches her go before nodding.
“Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
“Right behind you. Just want to—” She finishes plugging in the sequence before the computer makes an unfortunate-sounding noise and shuts down. “—make sure that they don’t get to keep any of their ill-gotten gains.”
“Good plan.”
With that, they head back to the car. Someone is rustling in the back seat. Derek doesn’t seem to be worried as he goes to slide into the driver’s seat, so Thea follows. As she settles into the passenger’s seat, a head pokes over her shoulder, along with some naked shoulders.
“Who are you?”
“Malia, this is my girlfriend, Thea. Thea, my cousin Malia.”
“Oh. Thanks for letting me out.”
“No problem,” Thea says with a nod. “And nice to meet you.”
Malia’s head withdraws as Derek pulls out of the warehouse parking lot, and as they hit the highway, Thea thinks that maybe meeting the rest of Derek’s family will go just as well.
She hopes.
outsiders inside the home that we built ~ dctv/teen wolf ~ 600
Derek pulls open the door to the loft to a waft of dust and an old smell, and he can’t help but sneeze in response.
“That’s not a good sign,” Thea teases.
“Actually, it is. It means the pack hasn’t been hanging out here without me being around.” Derek closes the door behind them and basks in the relief of having his space smell of nothing but the familiar musk of disuse, and not the collective scents of the pack. “I don’t expect it to hold now that I’m back, but good to know they have some boundaries.”
Thea snorts before taking in the space. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but—”
“Yes, I actually lived here. No, I don’t believe in walls. And there’s plenty of furniture.” He points to the bed in the corner. “Bed.” He then turns to the opposite side. “Couch. Coffee table.”
“You’re getting to know me a little too well, Hale.” Thea crosses over to the bed and picks at the comforter briefly, before crossing to the couch and coffee table, before squinting. “This is an incredibly expensive coffee table.”
“Peter helped decorate.” He smirks as he goes to drop off his stuff in his designated corner that may or may not be his bedroom. “And he likes things fancy.”
“Good to know.” Thea eyes the kitchen next. “How full was your fridge when you left?”
“Not. I know better.”
“Okay. So since your bedding looks like it’s covered in dust and I am starving, do you want to handle the laundry or the food retrieval?”
“I will clean if you pick up dinner,” he nods. “There’s a diner not too far from here, and Scott mentioned something about a new sushi place he thinks is good.”
“Oooh, I like the sound of sushi.” She leans in to give him a quick kiss before pulling back. “Have fun cleaning!”
He smirks as he watches her go. When the door closes behind her, he takes a deep breath as he surveys what has to be done and then sneezes again as his nose gets caught on the dust. Time to get started.
When Thea returns with the food, the main living area is clean, the laundry is running, and the sheets have been changed. Derek’s also gained a guest in the form of the sheriff.
“You weren’t kidding about surprise visitors,” Thea teases, and then when she takes in the law enforcement uniform, she reconsiders the joke. “Is someone dead?”
“No, I just heard Derek was back in town and dropped by to catch him up on a few things.” The sheriff turns to face her, extending a hand. “Noah Stilinski.”
“Oh, hey, Stiles’ dad.” Thea smiles as she shakes his hand. “Thea Queen.”
“One day someone saying that won’t feel like a bad omen,” Noah smirks before nodding. “But yes, I am his father.”
“Don’t worry, that’s pleased context. Stiles is great. We’re totally buds now that he’s convinced I’m not going to kill Derek and the pack in their sleep.”
Noah sighs, exasperated. “He went through a lot in high school.”
“So did I. I don’t take it personally.” Thea tips her head towards the bag. “Are you staying for sushi?”
“Maybe another time.” The sheriff says his goodbyes, and after he closes the door, the two of them spread their options across the coffee table as they settle in for a good meal.
“Glad to be home,” she asks, and he nods before the reality of Beacon Hills comes home to roost.
“Ask me again tomorrow.”
SET #3: SEVENS (words) (eliot/sophie)
you can bring me up, don't you bring me down ~ leverage ~ 1,200
Eliot thinks there are maybe worse people he could be stuck in a sewer with than Sophie Devereaux. There are certainly better, but there are also definitely worse.
(Mostly Hardison.)
It helps, mostly, that she’s prepared for the sewer. She’s wearing thick boots and clothing she can happily burn later, and has her hair tied up and out of the way. If she was down here in one of her designer dresses and thousand-dollar shoes, she would certainly complain a lot more.
“How much farther, do you think?”
“Not far. The junction’s just up here.” Eliot gestures with his flashlight as they make their way further down. Another beat of silence follows before he glances back at her over his shoulder. “You know, you don’t have to supervise.”
“And leave you down here to get attacked by some kind of mysterious sewer monster? No, thank you.” Sophie follows in step behind him. “This is Florida, Eliot. People find snakes in their toilets. I follow the news.”
“The news over-exaggerates,” Eliot replies. “I’m not going to be eaten by a giant alligator. And even if I was, what are you going to do about it, exactly?”
Sophie shrugs. “None of us are especially equipped for a sewer alligator, Eliot.”
“Speak for yourself.” She gives him a look, and he shrugs. “I like to be prepared. You never know when you’re going to have to fight a large reptile.”
She shakes her head. “Regardless, the buddy system works for a reason. Parker and Harry are setting the hook, Breanna is trying to get into the financials, so that left me to be alligator bait with you.”
He smirks before turning back to the path ahead of them. As they round the corner, however, Eliot comes up short. Are the sewers the most pleasant-smelling place to be? No, not really. But this is a very distinctive smell, a different noxious scent—one that isn’t part of the sewer ecosystem.
“Stay here.”
“Why?” She does as she’s told, but she asks anyway.
“Something’s wrong.” He rounds the corner away from her, to a dryer stretch of mess, and sees the familiar-looking lump not too far away from them. “We gotta go.”
“Why? We still haven’t found the junction box yet.”
“Because someone got to the mark before we did. And they left him down here to rot.”
It’s then that Sophie breaks from his order, moving to peer over his shoulder. Her nose wrinkles, and she nods. “That looks like poor Mr. Whitmore. Should we call the police?”
“Not until we head back up. Let’s put as much distance between them and it as we can.”
Sophie nods, turning to go back the way she came, before tipping her head to the side. “Let’s still address the junction box.”
Eliot raises an eyebrow—with the mark dead, he would assume that the con was dead too. But Sophie seems to have another plan in mind, and if nothing else, he is accustomed to following her lead. He nods before they cross the path, and he taps her on the shoulder.
“Stay here, keep a lookout. I’ll be quick.”
She nods, staying where she is and keeping an eye on the body. When he reaches the junction point and holds up his end of the plan, he comes back to get her and nods back the way they came. “Let’s go. Sooner we get out of here the better.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
They call the police from the car and have one of Breanna’s drones keep an eye on the body, just to see what happens. By the time they return to the rental house, Sophie’s minimal tolerance for the sewers has ended, and she heads to her own suite to turn herself back into Sophie Devereaux again. Eliot does the same with a much shorter shower before heading down to the kitchen to fix them something for dinner. By the time she emerges, hair dry and smelling faintly floral, he’s setting a plate in front of her.
“Cops showed up for the body. Seems to be going by the book so far.” He moves back to plate his own meal. “Want to tell me why the con isn’t dead?”
“The con is never dead. It’s just slightly adjusted.” Sophie smirks before reaching for a fork. “We assumed that Whitmore was the one calling the shots, and now he’s dead in a sewer—perfectly disposed of, by the way.”
Eliot nods. “If we hadn’t been down there trying to rip them off, the body could have just rotted away and no one would have been the wiser.”
“That says to me that Mr. Whitmore isn’t the criminal mastermind behind this operation. Either someone else is pulling the strings, or someone else has just usurped him, which means the machine isn’t broken quite yet.”
“Are we really in a position to break it when we don’t know who’s in charge?”
“That’s what I’ve deployed Parker and Harry to find out. And Breanna is still digging through the financials. We’ll slow down, play it safe until we do, but I don’t think this job is over. Not yet.”
Eliot nods, considering, before moving to settle next to her with his food. “Alright. We’ll keep pushing. Are you sure you’re ready for whatever we might find out?”
Sophie smirks as she reaches for her glass of wine. “You know me, Eliot. Improv is my favorite.”
That it is. Let’s just hope she doesn’t “yes, and” herself into a new form of trouble.
Then again, if she does, that’s what Eliot’s for.
“Alright. We’ll slow play it, see what happens.” He briefly catches her pleasure at his approval, and he raises an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t think I’d agree?”
“No, not at all,” she replies before tipping her head to the side. “But I do trust you to pull the plug, Eliot.”
“Me?”
Sophie turns to look at him. “Being the mastermind is different from being just the grifter. I have to consider all the angles.” And he knows better than anyone from their time with Nate that those calculations could be a bit cold. “You once told me you trust Nate with the plan, and me to keep us safe. Well, now that I’m the one making the plan, I can’t do both. I need you to keep us safe.”
It isn’t that Eliot hasn’t noticed that she’d been relying on him for that. He has, and he’s stepped up to the best of his ability. Sophie doesn’t need it as much as Nate did, but it’s still a role he takes seriously. “I always will. I promised you that a long time ago.”
“You did,” Sophie nods, her hand coming over to squeeze his shoulder gently. “And I appreciate that you’re still keeping it.”
He smiles softly, before turning his attention back to his food. “So. What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“We’ll see what Parker comes back with tonight, but for right now, I want to make sure the hook stays set. This fish may take a long time to bite.”
But when it does, they’ll be ready.
if i'm gonna dance then you're gonna dance too ~ leverage ~ 800
The screen door bangs open as Eliot and Sophie are sitting down to breakfast the next morning, and Breanna appears in the dining room not long after, tablet in hand.
“Okay,” she sighs. “We have a new target. Meet interim CEO Roger Mills.” She passes the tablet off to Sophie, and Sophie takes it from her, getting ready to take in the potential new mark. “Do you want my honest opinion?”
“Always,” Sophie replies as Eliot whips up a fresh plate for Breanna.
“I think he got confirmed way too quickly.”
“Corporate America is a machine, especially at the executive level. It is not about the people; it’s about keeping the machine running. Even their backups have backups.”
“True,” Breanna says. “But I also hacked into their emails, and Whittemore was put on PTO, mysteriously, around the time he probably died. And then Mills immediately started running through the PR of making this announcement, getting the statement approved by legal, jumping through all the hoops.”
Sophie tips her head to the side. “So they were unhappy with Whittemore before he died. Was he on a PIP?”
“PIP?” Eliot raises an eyebrow as he places the plate down in front of Breanna. “What the hell is a PIP?”
Breanna raises an eyebrow back at him. “So you don’t actually know everything?”
“PIP is a performance improvement plan. It’s essentially the death knell for your time at a company,” Sophie passes the tablet back to Breanna. “The fired employee does not usually actually die, though.”
“They don’t normally put CEOs on those kinds of things either, at least not publicly. According to the scuttlebutt, all the shareholders loved Whittemore.” Breanna shrugs. “All the things they cared about were up. Whittemore wasn’t causing them problems.”
“Unless he made himself one to the rest of the executive suite.” Sophie reaches for her teacup. “Any word from Harry?”
“He’s in place in the legal department, but no smoking guns as of yet. Parker has gotten herself installed as Mills’ new assistant, though.”
“Perfect. We’ll start to sow the seeds and see what happens.”
Eliot looks up from his food with a smirk. “You have a plan?”
“I have the start of one. Want to go scope out a building site today?”
He smiles before nodding in agreement. “Sounds like a plan.”
Fortunately, the weather is rather mild for Florida. The humidity is fairly low—something of a miracle—and it’s not too hot. Still, Sophie is fanning herself with some of the dummy paperwork while the sun rests directly above them. Eliot smirks at her as he makes his way closer.
“Can’t handle the heat?”
“I’m from England. We’re not built for this weather.” She gestures ahead of her, almost as though she’s making comments about the building's structure. “Are we being watched?”
“Oh yeah,” Eliot replies, hands resting on his hips and nodding as though he’s taking in her notes. “Foreman’s been watching us like a hawk since we showed up.”
“Perfect.” She gives a small nod before tipping her head back to the car as they turn to make their exit. Halfway back to their car, a stout, red-faced man catches up with them.
“Wait! Wait!” He’s huffing as he gets close enough. “You’re not allowed to be here.”
This? This is Sophie’s favorite part.
She’s done no prep work on the man in front of her. No study or research. But she can tell just enough by looking at him to get them where they need to go, and she trusts Eliot enough to follow her lead, just as he always has.
“That’s not what Mr. Whittemore said,” Sophie raises an eyebrow as she turns to face him. “He told us we were free to look as much as we want at the property we may be buying.”
“Buying?” The supervisor blinks in confusion. “I don’t know if you heard, but … Mr. Whittemore is no longer with us.”
“We did hear that. Truly tragic,” Sophie offers him a sympathetic smile. “But unfortunately death doesn’t kill the deal now, does it?”
The supervisor wears an expression that says it’s clear that this is far over his head. But he seems to be taking it well enough for now. Sophie reaches into her pocket and pulls out one of her business cards, passing it to him.
“When Mr. Mills decides he is ready to talk, tell him feel free to give us a call.”
And with that, she turns and continues to make their way to the car. Eliot slides into the driver’s seat next to her, and he raises an eyebrow. “I thought we were sticking with Parker’s hook.”
“Oh, we are,” Sophie replies, before flashing him a smile. “Never said we couldn’t turn up the pressure.”
and the bright lights have faded to blue ~ leverage ~ 1,000
Mills doesn’t keep them waiting long. But instead of making a direct approach to Sophie, he finds Eliot.
Mills is a sharply dressed man, one of the many that Eliot has met in his time. There are somewhere fashion feels like a costume versus actually feeling like a choice, and he can’t make heads or tails of Mills just yet. He will, though.
“I don’t know what to tell you, hoss,” he sighs as he goes about loading his truck. Sophie had sent him to a local hardware store for dubious reasons. She must have had a feeling that they were being watched. “I’m not the guy who makes the calls. If you want those, you’ll have to talk to my boss.”
“Right, this … Sheila Abernathy.” Mills holds up the card Sophie had given the supervisor yesterday. That had gotten to the top faster than they thought. “I’m not sure what exactly it is she’s trying to pull, but we have no record of this supposed deal she and Whittemore were working on.”
“Don’t you?” Eliot raises an eyebrow. “No offense, Mr. Mills, but I wouldn’t put it past a company like yours to have something like that disappear if it was inconvenient.”
“You don’t have proof.”
“That can be arranged,” Sophie’s voice floats quietly over the comms. “Breanna?”
“On it.”
“Oh, you mean like notarized documents? Signed by Whittemore himself that he was acting in good faith?” Eliot raises an eyebrow. “That feels like proof to me. Then again, I’m just the construction guy.”
“She doesn’t have those.”
“She does, or I wouldn’t have come on board and started scoping out the place. I’ve seen them myself.”
Mills grits his teeth. “Why should I believe you?”
“Believe me. Or don’t. Not really my business.” Eliot finishes loading his gear into his truck before stepping back. “But the only one who’s going to be able to show you that proof is Ms. Abernathy. You got her number. I would use it.”
And with that, he walks away, not letting Mills get another word in. As he slides into the driver’s seat, he catches Mills pulling out his phone in the rearview mirror. “Sophie, he’s all yours,” he says into the earbud before pulling away and heading back to the house.
Mills makes an appointment for three in the afternoon, which gives them plenty of time to get Sophie’s “offices” ready. He shows up in that same conspicuous suit, though looking slightly more uncomfortable than he did earlier. Sophie, on the other hand, looks like the sharp, well-dressed professional she would be. That seems to make the other man uncomfortable.
“Do you see what I see?” Sophie asks when she excuses herself to get the paperwork Mills requested. “He’s a little boy dressed up in his father’s suit.”
Eliot shakes his head. “I think it’s something else. Suits don’t do the heavy lifting. They don’t get their hands dirty. He’s worn a suit before—I think he doesn’t know how to act like it.”
“Mmm,” she considers as she takes the folder from Eliot’s hands. “I think I can make that work.” She turns to head back out of the file room and into the quiet of her office.
“Alright, Mr. Mills. Here’s your paperwork.” Sophie leans back against her desk, eyeing him curiously. “I’m honestly a little shocked you want it back.”
Mills looks over the paperwork, and if Eliot’s hunch is right, he’s not going to make heads or tails of it. But there’s something about the way Mills clutches the papers that tells Eliot he’s going to take the bait.
“Why would you say that? It’s potentially an incredibly lucrative property for us that we’ve put a lot of money into.”
“Whittemore gave me the impression that with the skeletons in that particular closet, you’d be more interested in making them someone else’s problem.”
Mills freezes, and Eliot can practically see the paranoid goblins in his brain beginning to go to work. Wondering what Whittemore told her. Wondering whether or not letting them follow through is the correct play. Whether he should tip his hand.
There are very few people who know what happened at that worksite. One of them is dead, one of them is their client, and the other may sit in this room.
“And you—still want it, anyway?”
“As you said, it’s a very lucrative property. We have means of … disposing of these problems with no one being the wiser. But it is an expensive process, so if we’re going to do it, we’re certainly going to want a return on our investment.”
Sophie’s made this play before. It trips off her tongue with ease, even now, but there’s something about the way she phrases it that makes him sit up and process that. He could get away clean. He just has to sacrifice this property. But Eliot also sees something else.
A hint of guilt, maybe. That the person who he’s usurped was actually trying to help him, he just couldn’t see it.
“I’ll have to take this to the board,” he swallows. “I don’t think…we’ll have to review this.”
“Of course. Take your time.” Sophie holds out a hand for the paperwork, and he hesitates. “Your company has copies, I assure you. But I’m not going to surrender the originals.”
Reluctantly, Mills returns the paperwork to her before nodding and getting up to leave. As the door to the office closes behind him, Sophie smiles before saying into the earbuds. “Parker and Harry, you are up.”
They respond in the affirmative, and Eliot and Sophie have a moment to themselves. “He’s definitely sweating. But are you sure he’s going to crack?”
“Hard to say,” she admits, before glancing over to Eliot with a smile. “But I’m excited to find out.”
“He might have been the one who killed Alfonso.”
“Perhaps,” Sophie admits. “But he’s going to fall either way. Might as well make it hurt.”