goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Last show of a tour and we all split the most ridiculous cheesecake we can find in the area. I think the current winner is a tutti frutti Pointe & shootie, which was like a funfetti cheesecake with pointe lace decoration in like, some tulle fruite lace? and shots of amaretto like. Waiting in the cookie crust." It was insane. And delicious.

"Huh." Sounds delicious. "Well, you'll have time tomorrow to look into that." Depending on his cut of proceedings, he'll likely have enough to distribute to his crew. "You'll likely have press to deal with, as well."

"...aw hell I forgot about THAT. I hate press conferences. Too many flashing lights and loud questions but I'm not allowed to get cranky." He sighs and slumps back against the sofa, muttering. "I'll be a pop star I said. It'll be FUN I said."

"Just let Delta handle it, and keep your mouth shut at about things that don't need to be raised. He'll write any formal press release regarding what happened, and you can always embelish it on your website or something." ...He does have a website, right?

"...shit I haven't tweeted in over six hours." He fumbles with his phone for awhile before finding the camera function, raises it up with a peace sign and takes a quick selfie. Posting it and thanking his fanclub and all that takes less than thirty seconds but god.

"okay. They know I'm not dead. Woo."

Carolina makes sure to stay well out of selfie range, marveling at how fast he is to slam out those updates to his fans. The downtime might have worried them, but his reply might also aggravate the person that targetted him -- but he, currently, is in police custody.

"Good to know," she says dryly once he's done his duty. "How many retweets do you average?"

"I don't get those notifications because when I do I don't SLEEP. Phone pings for hours, man." He sets it down and rubs at his bad eye. "Uh. I wanna say couple thousand? maybe more?"

That earns a chuckle, which blooms into a grin when the aforementioned phone immediately starts ringing -- food's here, apparently, but that timing! "You're not going down, by the way," just in case he was having any ideas, "Jimmy is in the lobby, he can handle it."

"Jimmy gets a dick chocolate when he gets up here." It's chocolate, he'll love it. Ignoer the shape.

"Jimmy should get to pick which chocolate he wants," she counters, wagging a finger at him.

"But Jimmy LIKES dick!" Which is probably not the thing to be saying when Jimmy is right on the other side of the door, knocking.

Eyes roll, as Carolina pushes up off the couch, heads to collect the food and its very confused delivery guard. She hands over repayment for the tip he paid in lieu.

"Derek, dinner's here," she calls quietly into Delta's suit, before ferrying the lot back into the main room.

"JIMMY COME GRAB A DICK CHOCOLATE!" Because if he's gonna be undignified, he may as well commit. It makes Jimmy smile a little anyway. The second name, though- that has York blinking and levering himself off the sofa.

"I mean I knew Delta wasn't your NAME name but- Derek? That's the classified secret? That's what you couldn't tell me for the YEARS we've known each other? Derek. I'm hurt, man. I am wounded."

"It's not his full name," she informs him, raising an eyebrow. His nickname was Delta for a reason after all. Good old dad had been fond of...unnecessary mouthfuls of names for her half-siblings.

There's a glower for her from Delta when he emerges from his room, but he doesn't seem at all apologetic for not telling York sooner.

"I thought you trusted me, man. I thought we had something special." He pouts, all overdramatic angst before turning to Carolina. "You still love me, don't you?"

Carolina merely looks up from dishing out her own portion of food, and arches an eyebrow. Oh, was she supposed to be siding with someone here? "No," is a very deadpan reply. "Pretty sure that wasn't in the job description."

"...the internet still loves me." He huffs, settling down to grab some food. Carolina was evil and Delta was the devil.

"hmm, y'know, several thousand likes don't necessarily mean love. Now eat up before your food gets cold."said teasingly, before Carolina resumes tucking in.

It's not a long meal, and they're all tired after the day's events. Once they've finished up, she'll start herding people to their respective beds.

He finishes his food in record time, starving after all that activity, and the fear for his life. Hasn't had to have that in- well. A long, long time. He tosses as much of the trash as is available when he's finished, ruffles Delta's hair with an obnoxious kiss to his cheek and starts back to the bedroom "Night guys."

"Good night," is the sighed response from Delta, still working on one of his reports, and Carolina responds with an acknowledging nod. She doesn't sleep right away, not until her brother has been gently harassed and herded into his own room after she's checked all entrances and exits.

The other security guards are on rotation, which is good. But even she can't stay awake all night. Bunking down on the couch, she makes sure to set her phone's alarm - vibrate, of course, no waking the client - and settles in for her own nap. She can sleep longer later, tomorrow.

She's still up before either of the men in her suite, however, pausing to use the bathroom to splash her face and tidy up. They don't have anywhere to be right away, but both Delta and York likely have plans. Or have them made for them, depending on any emails sent overnight..

He usually sleeps well the last leg of the tour. Complete crash, out for hours, dreamless sleep- all that jazz. Tonight- he's not that lucky. He dozes for a few hours, sure, but starts twitching in the middle of the third, the too sweet tinge of that smoke shifting to something acrid and hot. There is no rescue, there's just the flash of the grenade, the sudden shout of his pointmant.

Dreaming of the ambush never ends well. At least he's over the screaming nightmares. York jolts awake in a cold sweat, panting as he lets his surroundings register. Bridal Suite. End of the tour. D's in the next room. Right.

He shuffles off the bed and scrubs at his eyes, walking by feel to the coffee maker.

She goes still at the sound of movement, but given it's coming from inside the main bedroom, Carolina relaxes again, moving to open the curtains a little and let in some light as York moves into the main sitting area.

The couches here are large and clearly intended for, ahem, pampering; it made for a good night's sleep, at least. Her hair's no longer in its ponytail - it's been changed to a loose braid, and her jacket is over the back of the couch. The coffee pot isn't on yet, but that's merely a matter of time, and if York wants to go ahead now, she won't stop him.

"Sleep well?"

"Nope." He's quit lying about that. Took months but- D worked with him and earned enough trust for him to be honest. Besides. They'll be better able to manage him if they know how well or not he's slept. So. "Kinda expected that too, what with the-"

He waves a hand vaguely.

"Not exactly mustard or tear gas but way too damn similar for my peace of mind. And I JUST got over how twitchy the smoke machines would get me too, damnit."

"You'll have time during your break to work on that again, if necessary?" But it certainly wouldnt be her call to make him do it. Still, that did confirm a couple of things she'd wondered about. "Where did you serve?"

"Classified." It rolls off the tongue before he can quit, but sighs. "Seriously. Signed an NDA when I got the honorable discharge. Part of the deal."

He wasn't even spec ops, it just kind of HAPPENED.

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