When Cal extended his palm to Mishka, the shepherd gave it a cursory sniff before decidedly turning up her nose. He let out a small chuckle, unfazed by the dog's apparent disinterest. "Can't win them all," he remarked with a smoothness that belied his slight disappointment, but he was no stranger to an initial rejection.

"You mean three," Ana had corrected him, referencing Mishka alongside Stella and herself.

"Quite right, three! My sincerest apologies, Mishka, I meant no offense," Cal replied, lighthearted as he offered a polite nod in the dog's direction, acknowledging his oversight.

Ana's reminder of the promised meal brought Cal back to his feet, his grin broadening. "Indeed, you were! And I always follow through on my promises. Right this way," he said, leading the way to the bistro with a confident stride, Stella falling into step contentedly beside them.

The restaurant they arrived at was pleasant, its high ceilings and pristine white tablecloths setting the stage for a more elevated dining experience. Cal greeted the host by name, who grinned wide, welcoming them and leading them to a carefully chosen table. Opting for the indoor seating to avoid the looming threat of rain, a rarity in LA, the smell of fresh bread filled the building, warm and inviting.

Cal pulled out Ana's chair for her before taking his own seat across from her. His usual tactility was restrained today -- he'd normally insert a quick "accidental" brush here, a polite kiss on the hand there, but something told him it would be better to refrain from touching Ana. He didn't mind. Stella settled beside him.

Cal broke off a piece of bread from the basket at their table, feeding it to Stella before turning his attention fully to Ana, his expression curious. "So, Ana," he began, his voice earnest in interest, "What is it that you do? Other than outshining everyone at charity galas." His gaze, while appreciative, lingered not only on her physical attributes, but searched her for some sign of who she was beyond a timeless beauty. He found himself simply wanting to know her, what made her tick, what kind of food she liked. For once, the interest didn't feel driven by any sort of hidden agenda, fueled by finding the most efficient path to get her into his bed.

Though, he thought as he gratefully accepted a glass of ice water from the waiter, he certainly wouldn't be opposed.

The restaurant wasn't far, and yet the clouds above only seemed to darken further and take over more of the sky. The staff Calvin greeted by name grinned wide, she found it slightly odd but then again she'd somehow made friends with the head Librarian within the FBI's archives and books so she remained silent.

Delta settled on her side with her belly directly onto of her feet, folded hands resting atop the table once she'd set her bag agaisnt her stomach. Though no stranger to being flirted with, she rarely actually accepted any offers to meet for any sort of meal. The restaurant wasn't full but the air smelled of devious scents, the basket of bread before them lay untouched except for the piece that Calvin had taken.

His first question had her mentally flailing just a bit, though her expression remained pleasant. The compliment afterwards had her expression smoothing out, though a half smile remained on her lips. She had a story to follow and even though this hadn't been expected at all, Ellie knew she keep herself and her words in check. "I work for my father for the time being, his company while very popular in Russia is in need of an expansion." Her gaze left his rather intense eyes, a flash of lightning signaled the beginning of what looked like a very large storm. At the end of the day, this man who oozed the aura of someone who was rich and got what he wanted, would never really care for someone with nothing to offer.

"So I came here in search of some support." She finished just as then waiter arrived, she asked for sweet tea and was met with a grin. Taking a sip when the cup was set before her, she tried not to squirm at the feeling of his eyes on her.

Like he was trying to see through her, to see how she ticked.

"And yourself? What do you do?" She asks with a slight tilt of her head, a hand lifting to push her braid behind her shoulder with an absent flick. While she doesn't much care for the man before her, she's a trained investigator with a wandering mind that sometimes leads her into trouble. She's curious.

As Ana spoke, the clouds outside darkened the skies, and a flash of lightning briefly illuminated the space. People on the sidewalk outdoors rushed for cover as the rain began to fall. Rain in southern California was a welcome sight in theory, but it didn't mean any of these Hollywood-types wanted water on their suede jackets or leather Birkin bags. Car accidents also tended to follow -- as if everyone forgot how to drive, when a bit of water was on the ground. Cal made a mental note to himself to be extra careful on the drive home. When the crack of thunder sounded outside, dull against the sound of the restaurant's activity, Stella whined a bit, tucking herself closer to Cal as if she could climb into his skin to hide. He reached down and stroked her head reassuringly while he listened to Ana.

"Support, eh? Well, I'm not sure if you're aware, but I'm a bit of a businessman myself. Perhaps I can help. What industry is your father in?"

The question was genuine, and Cal wasn't bragging. Somehow, this woman didn't seem to know who he was, and he found that to be a bit of a relief. Many of the women he encountered clamored for him, money signs in their eyes. It was nice to know that perhaps this woman had no ulterior motives for meeting with him -- in fact, he got the feeling she felt nonchalant, at best, toward him.

He could work with that.

She ordered a sweet tea just as Cal had been about to suggest they get a bottle of nice wine for the table, but he hesitated. Normally, he would go all out in a situation like this -- shower the woman in luxury, compliment her, make her melt in his hands. He got the feeling that Ana wasn't going to be that easy.

She asked what it was that Cal did, and he smiled. "I'm a bit of a jack of all trades. Real estate -- mostly hotel and Senior Living properties --, a few production factories, even some agriculture, orchards and wineries and the like." He sipped from his water, waving off his own answer with a flick of his hand. "I'm not particularly passionate about any of them. I'm just glad they afford me the opportunities to try and make a difference. Like the gala last night."

The waiter returned to take their orders, and Cal asked for a Saumon fumé, and a plate of calamari to share, nodding to Ana when she was asked for her own order. He'd normally attempt some power move of impressing whatever lady accompanied him by ordering for them, surprising them with his impeccable taste. He got the feeling that such things were unlikely to earn him any points here.

He didn't feel the need to go into his other enterprises. Not many would take too kindly to the idea of a man who held a tight grip on every drug and gun that entered the city limits. Maybe he would tell a woman, one day, maybe he'd be able to explain it -- that he'd witnessed his own parents, murdered at the hands of a man much like he himself was now. That he'd sworn from a young age he would work his way to the top of his own criminal empire, taking down every evil piece of shit that only cared for themselves -- or their bottom line -- along the way. That he was, honestly, making the world a better place in ways that transcended charity events and big checks to nonprofit organizations.

He was making LA and the surrounding area safer. By knocking off one murderous, reckless, evil scumbag at a time.

The rumble of thunder had Stella tucking herself closer to Calvin in search of comfort, a glance down at Delta showed her relaxed and slowly blinking as if falling asleep. Her nose wrinkled slightly at the rain pouring outside, not because she disliked it but because LA residents seem to become stupider when any change in climate happened.

The question had her blinking in genuine surprise, eyelashes fluttering unconsciously before she exhaled softly. "Fashion and Retail." She replied with a slight wave of her hand, gesturing down to her attire before lifting her glass up to her lips. Here at least she wasn't fully lying, her father wanted to help expand her mother's fashion store, small in Russia but growing in popularity. He himself doesn't mind handling the business aspect so she can focus on a dream she's had since childhood, his own dream of owning a clinic as a Pediatrician on hold due to a recent rather large surgery.

His almost nonchalance about what he does, has her frowning with a tilt of her head. Her parents loved their jobs, even her siblings despite their complaints and grumbling wouldn't change their careers unless they absolutely had to. She herself had clawed her way up a ladder filled with egotistical men who didn't believe a woman could be an investigator, she didn't quite understand. "How can you not be?" She asked with a brow arching up, mouth smoothing out as she watched the man before her. "How can you not be impassioned by the things you do?" Her glass is set down, head still tilted at him. Maybe it was an American thing? To choose so many different jobs and not care for them? Odd.

The arrival of their waiter had her glancing down at the menu she'd forgotten about, eyes flicking over each item until she settled on something somewhat familiar. Ordering a Cassoulet with a smile she focused on her companion once more, rain continuing to pour restlessnessly outside.

It felt odd to sit here with someone, with a stranger who didn't know what her actual job was of who she really was. Not that anyone here in LA really did, except her siblings and Director D'Angelo. And here she was building another lie that she had to keep closely guarded, much like her heart and wayward mind that liked to fixate on things until it consumed her completely.

She needed a drink. Maybe two.

"Tell me, what does someone with so much on his plate do to unwind?" She asks after taking a sip of her tea, legs crossing under the table as she settled in more comfortably. Though she was nonchalant towards him and wasn't too fond of his aggressive flirting, she had time to kill and with the rain outside continuing she didn't quite want to walk home just yet.

A series of quick vibrations came from inside her bag, muffled but easy to feel where it sat against her knees.

Fashion and retail, Ana had said. Despite the glitzy glamour that surrounded Cal's life, it was an industry he hadn't touched, even in passing, and wasn't particularly knowledgeable in. When she gestured to her own attire, his gaze followed appreciatively. She was certainly fashionable, and looked polished and put together. Not that such a thing would be difficult for a woman like her -- he imagined that with her face, those sapphire eyes and cupid's-bow lips, she could make a t-shirt and basketball shorts look good. If he had his way, he'd like to see her in one of his t-shirts one day, picked up from the pile of clothes they'd left on the floor the previous evening. The corner of his mouth tilted up into a smirk at the thought.

"How can you not be impassioned by the things you do?"

This question, finally, gave Cal pause. He had no smooth, practiced answer to give her. He contemplated a moment, his gaze burning into hers as if the answer lied there somewhere. "It's not that I lack passion for my work. I'm quite good at what I do, and I put my all into every task. It's more that..." he brought a hand to his chin, rubbing his jaw in thought. "It's all a means to an end. Sure, I could go scoop poop at the humane society and technically be making a difference. And I wouldn't be opposed, I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. But I want... more. I wanted to build something, something that would generate enough excess revenue that, beyond the few things I and my companies need to succeed and live comfortably, I could fling at whatever does impassion me on a given day. My main jobs are more of a side-project that end up funding the things I really care about: Sponsoring adoptions for parents, constructing homeless shelters, or things like the fundraiser gala last night. Does that make sense?"

It was more than he's said about himself all day, and he was rather surprised by his own willingness to talk about his motivations. Even Marcus, his best friend, didn't ask him things like this. The philanthropy portion of his life wasn't some facade to gain public favor -- it was what he'd rather be doing with all of his time. He'd set up foundations, broken ground on shelters, provided schools with supplies. None of it ever felt like enough.

Taking out evil assholes who preyed on those people felt a lot better. It was one thing to push in the direction of good, to try and cover up for the mistakes of the city and care for those who were born into shitty circumstances, or struck with bad luck. It was another to try and eradicate the things that put them there in the first place. That was much more satisfying.

He was glad for the change of subject when she asked what he did to unwind. "I love to read," he admitted, surprising even himself that he'd started with that. Why he wasn't gushing about spending weekends on yachts and attending fabulous parties, he wasn't sure. "And I'm a bit of a wine-o. I'm hardly ever home, but when I am, you'd easily find me with a glass of cabernet and a trashy novel. They're a bit of a weakness for me." He reddened a bit, looking off a bit distantly with a grin. "I'm a bit of a hopeless romantic, I suppose. And what about you?" He returned his gaze to her, shaking his head as if physically shaking off his own train of thought. "When you're not enthralled in the world of fashion and retail, what occupies your time?"

His response when it came, sounded genuine and held emotions that Ellie could almost feel. It helped assuage and disband the rant she had unconsciously been forming in her mind, enough so that she felt her shoulders relax and her expression soften. "It does." She replied with a half-smile lifting a corner of her mouth, fingers tapping along the cloth-covered table before falling still.

When Calvin replied to her question, his answer wasn't what she was expecting at all. He looked like someone who spent time outdoors, with people or attending lavish parties dressed in dazzling suits. As he continued to speak her mind brought the image to mind, though blurry at the edges with no real scene aside from him with a book and a glass of cabernet.

Eyes blinking at him when he asked her in then what she did, Ellie turned her gaze away from his for a second before returning them to him. "I love trying out new recipes to make." She replies with a hand lifting so that a knuckle can rub along the edge of her nose, shoulders rolling once before falling still. "If I'm not doing that it's a tie between watching trashy reality TV or reading a book." She bit the inside of her cheek with enough force for it to hurt, willing herself into silence before she really begins to babble.

It's far too close to the truth, to what she does when she's not at work or visiting her family.

"I..." Ellie began quietly, gaze focused on to the darkened street instead of Calvin's eyes. "I play piano at the hospital when I have time, nothing fancy or anything like that but it does seem to help." Her words are softly spoken, chest tighting with emotion at her own admittance. It had started as something to do when waiting to meet her sister for lunch or dinner, then she'd seen the expressions of a group seated in cushioned chairs once and it reminded in her mind for days. How tired they'd looked until the music reached them, how they'd relaxed and closed their eyes if only for a moment.

She was well known around the hospital now, with paitents even requesting video calls to hear her play when they couldn't get out of bed.

Coughing once and ignoring what felt like fire on her cheeks, Ellie lifts her glass and takes another sip of her drink.

Cal was relieved when Ana seemed to relate to what he’d said, regarding the work vs. passion priorities that engulfed his life. She even smiled a bit, and Cal grinned in response, reassured that he hadn’t simply been rambling and boring her to death.

She said she liked to try out new recipes, and he tried to picture the woman before him clad in an apron, skillfully slicing a tomato or sautéing chicken. He was pleased with the image. “A chef, eh? Any particular dishes you’ve found an affinity for?” She liked to read and watch “trashy TV”, too. Cal was making mental notes. He wasn’t sure she’d give him the pleasure of her company again after this, but if he was so lucky, he would remember her. The things that made her happy. He’d never paid much mind to the finer details of the women he encountered — in most cases, he knew he wouldn’t be spending long with them. Something in him wanted to spend days, weeks, with Ana.

His thoughts were interrupted when she continued, her eyes settling on the view of the rainy sidewalk outside. “I play piano at the hospital when I have time.” Cal’s expression softened. There was a vulnerability in her voice, and he gave that the respect it was due, a small smile of admiration on his lips. “I would love to hear that some time, if I’m ever so lucky,” he said softly, imagining the way her long fingers would look as they coaxed the piano keys into a melody.

Before he could say more, the waiter returned with their food, stealing his attention for a moment to catch up. Cal was friendly with him, returning the conversation, but his eyes never left Ana. He’d known it from the moment he laid eyes on her — she was something special.

He felt Stella shift beneath him, and checked under the table briefly to see she’d settled in, laying down at his feet, her face not far from Mishka’s. Stella sniffed at Mishka a moment before licking her nose quickly, and then tucking herself in to rest. The dog was braver than him. He hadn’t laid a finger on Ana yet.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “Any other fun plans for the weekend? I appreciate you allowing me to steal a bit of your Saturday. I hope I can make it worth your time.”

She almost snorted at his assumption of her being a chef, but instead thought of what dishes she favored. Russian cuisine was of course a given with French and even Spanish foods. "Asian." She replied with a tilt of her head, fingers tapping along the table before falling still. Though they hadn't been poor they'd picked up skills from watching their family members, in her case it had been her Grandfather Nikolai and Uncle Andrei who had taught her. Shaking her head slightly to rid the memories of standing beside her burly-muscled Grandfather and lanky Uncle, Ellie offers a shrug of her shoulders. "One would think I'd say Russian, but honestly with Asian cuisine it makes one want to invite their family and share it with them." Which usually ends up happening she doesn't add out loud, her apartment filled with the rich aroma of food and laughter.

She silently curses herself at her own words, teeth biting at the edge of her cheek. Telling anyone even a small cornel of truth can lead to any number of situations, and here she does just that as if she owes him anything. She adores what she does at the hospital there's no qualms there, it's that she's letting herself speak any of it outloud. She can't be vulnerable around just anyone, she can't let anyone in, she can't let herself show any weakness. His soft smile drew her attention, mental cursing stilling at his words.

The waiters arrival offered a distraction, though his eyes never do leave her even as he speaks to the young man. Like she was someone he didn't want to look away from, like she mattered when she was sure he had women lined up and ready to accompany him to wherever he went.

Movement beneath the table has her blinking, before shifting slightly to see what it could be. Seeing Stella sniffing Delta had her lips lifting into a small smile, heart warming when a lick was placed on her nose. Delta for her part stretches out her limbs, pressing in close to her feet before falling still again.

The clearing of his throat has her eyes lifting up from her plate, steam rising from the soup before her. His question had her pausing for a moment, because she didn't exactly have plans. She was on call if anything major happened but she didn't have a shift until Monday, Ellie hummed and lifted up her phone with a finger held up in a silent wait a moment gesture. "You've been nice company so far, you and Stella both." Ellie replied absently, focus split between the man before her and her screen. "As for further plans, no I don't have any until later in the day." She adds while her fingers fly across her screen, the message before her has her fighting a delighted grin from spreading across her lips.

Sofia(Sonya)
Stopping by later. I have a surprise for you. ♡

Me: I hate surprises.

Sofia(Sonya)
I know. But you'll love this one.

Her sister works crazy hours and shifts like her own, enough so that Ellie rarely gets to see her despite the fact that they live not to far from one another. She's not one for surprises but with how today is going so far, she's going to let the world do as it wants.

Slipping her phone away, she glances up at Calvin she offers an apologetic shrug as she lifts her spoon once more. "How would you make it worth my time? The rain doesn't look like it has plans on stopping soon." She remarks with a pointed look outside, voice teasing as she takes a sip of her soup.

So she liked to cook Asian food. She was full of surprises. He wasn’t familiar with the family-meal concept, and hadn’t been since he was young. He was a bit envious, imagining having everyone you loved in one place, sharing stories and food and enjoying each other’s company. Sure, Cal was surrounded by people every day. But no one that knew him, not really.

He noticed Ana smile when she saw the dogs being sweet with one another. Cal was pleased the two of them seemed to get along. He’d had no idea how Stella would be around other dogs, and was relieved that she seemed calm and happy with Mishka in her company.

As they spoke, Cal cut into his salmon, taking a bite here and there but not feeling particularly hungry. He had never been much of a lunch guy — in fact, he tended to be running around without time to even think of eating until the evening, when he’d usually just grab something quick from the hotel kitchen, or order takeout.

When Ana answered, she was a bit distracted, but her words made it so Cal didn’t mind. “You’ve been nice company so far, you and Stella both.” He beamed. And she didn’t have any plans. Would he be pushing his luck to try and see her once in one weekend? He scratched his chin, considering. He desperately didn’t want the end of this lunch to be the last he’d see of her.

He got an idea, taking advantage of Ana’s distraction, and pulled a pen from his pocket, grabbing a napkin and scribbling on it quickly.

If you’re not sick of my face yet, give me a call sometime. I’d love to see more of yours. 555-1234.

He leaned under the table with a piece of bread in hand, using the ruse of feeding it to Stella, and gently tucked the folded napkin under Mishka’s collar, careful not to let it tug on her soft fur or cause any discomfort, and that all the white was hidden beneath the collar’s band so that Ana wouldn’t notice it until later.

He returned his attention to above the table, and caught Ana with a small smile as she typed. Cal felt a pang of jealousy. Perhaps she had a boyfriend. Hell, perhaps she was married. He didn’t see a ring, but that wasn’t entirely uncommon these days. Even after all he’d been learning today, he realized he knew next to nothing about her.

“How would you make it worth my time? The rain doesn’t look like it has plans on stopping soon.”

Cal grinned. “Well,” he said, “I can think of plenty of indoor activities that could keep us occupied.” He cringed internally. Those types of flirts weren’t going to get him anywhere, he was certain of it, but it had slipped out. He didn’t take it back, however. He didn’t want her doubting for a second that he was attracted to her.

“For instance,” he added smoothly, “The desserts here are to die for. Perhaps we can outlast the rain, heaven knows it’ll be short lived around here. Or, if you’d prefer a change of scenery…” He trailed off, letting the question hang in the air. He was under no assumption that she’d spend more than the bare minimum amount of time she could with him, just to be polite — and perhaps to get a free lunch. But he’d be damned if he wouldn’t try.

His response to her question had a brow arching up, though she didn't immediately reply. Ellie wasn't one to play easy for anyone, much less for someone who oozed a playboy persona like Calvin didn't. He didn't take it back though like one would think, which had her stomach squirming just slightly.

The mention of desserts had her expression smoothing out, back straightening in silent anticipation. She had a sweet tooth a mile wide, her eyes already scanning for the smaller menu the waiter had left behind earlier.

Her phone ringing has her blinking in surprise, because she has it set to vibrate for everyone except for a select few people.

Pulling it from her bag she's met with Bryce flashing across her screen, glancing up at Calvin she offers a sharp shrug and swipes the green button.

"Either I've been awake too long and I'm imaging things." His voice sounds like gravel, exhaustion clear as day even down the line. Brows furrowing she glances up and peers out the window, head tilting when she spots him not too far away.

"Hello to you to." She replies with confusion coloring her tone, she remembers him texting that he'd be on shift for the next twenty-four hours. His laugh sounds rough as it comes through the tiny speakers, the cough that follows has her brows pulling down further and a frown tugging her lips down.

"I was sent home early, large apartment fire that ended up with me going to the ER. Cammie needs meds, she's come down with-" Ellie inhales sharply and clicks her tongue, her free hand setting her spoon down.

"You should have started with that." She murmurs with a shake of her head, eyes lifting to Calvin and her lips lifting into a small sympathetic smile. She doesn't reply but ends the call, standing with an apologetic grimace settling on her face. Bryce was a friend of Sofia's who worked as a firefighter, a man she'd met more times then not on scenes or rarely when they made plans to go drink.

His wife Lydia worked as nurse with Sofia, she'd been the one to introduce them when they'd so happened to be in the ER waiting for a suspect to be treated after fleeing a scene. Cameron is a bundle of joy and a joy to have stay with her when her parents are both at work and she's off, its made her question if she really wants kids or not in her future.

"I'll have to ask for a rain check, my best friends daughter has come down with something and he needs to grab medicine for her." She's quietly explaining as she stands, Delta raises and shakes herself with a soft sigh. Finishing the last of her drink, she slings her bag over her shoulder and pauses for half a second.

She's pressing a kiss to his cheek within the next second, aware that a pair of hazel eyes are watching from not too far away. "Dasvidania." Ellie whispers against his skin, pulling away and turning to move towards the door. She pauses and bites her lip, half turning to glance at him and Stella who Delta had said goodbye to as well. "Thanks for lunch, we should do this again." Is out of her mouth before she can reel the words in, manners ingrained in her taking over for this moment.

Then she's pausing to leave some cash for her meal, then exiting out into the rain with Delta right beside her. Bryce hasn't moved from his spot, umbrella keeping him dry in the rain. He's wearing a beanie which hides his strawberry-blonde hair, cheeks dusted black with soot and eyes red at the edges. He's as tall as ever and his pale skin looks red, the hug she's folded into isn't unexpected at all. What is however is how she can feel heat radiating from him, squeezing carefully she holds him for a few seconds before pulling away. holding out a hand she's met with a blink of hazel eyes. "Keys." She demands with a wiggle of her fingers, Delta's rail wags happily as she leans into the large hand patting her head.

"I can drive." Bryce sasses back with a knuckle rubbing his nose, Ellie huffs out a sigh and shakes her head in fond exasperation at him.

"Keys." She repeats with a glare up at him, he holds her eyes for a second before sighing almost too carefully and shifting the umbrella so she's covered as well. He turns and gestures to his parked gray Honda Pilot, which is when she notices the bags in one hand.

"I wasn't walking around in scrubs, Jones was with me until I dropped him off at a Thai place and I quickly ducked into this store to change. And buy a toy for Cammie." His voice has dropped to a low whisper, broad shoulders hunching as if speaking causes him pain.

"Which is how you spotted me. Right, keys." Delta doesn't jump up immediately when the back door opens, Ellie dries her paws and body with a small towel she finds and Bryce confirms is clean, and then she's settling into the driver's seat once the door is closed. She can smell smoke from him as she turns to engine on, eyes glancing out to the restaurant where she can just make out Calvin's back and Stella's head.

She's not sure if she's just run away, or gracefully left with a legitimate excuse. She's not sure how to feel, glancing at Bryce who looks like he's dozing and then to the sky and its thick clouds. Sighing she shifts into Drive and shakes her head, silently debating on which pharmacy they should stop by.

If she sees him again she'll apologize.

Calvin was almost certain Ana was going to take him up on the dessert offer, and he bit his lip to hide a smile. He was far too pleased with the prospect of getting another few moments with her.

But just before they could discuss the menu, her phone rang, and she gave Cal a shrug before answering it. Cal busies himself with studying the dessert menu himself, but he’s almost certain he hears a male voice coming through her phone. Of course. It would have been foolish for Cal to assume he was the only prospect she had — if she even saw him that way to begin with. The way she looked, plus the sharp wit and intelligence, she probably had suitors lining up. He was going to have to step up his game if he wanted to make any impression. He hoped the phone number he’d slipped her would present him with that opportunity; otherwise, he’d have to find some other way of tracking her down.

Ana looked concerned, and Cal got the creeping feeling that their little lunch date was about to come to an untimely end. Before he knew it, she was standing, looking apologetic. She explained her reasoning and Cal beamed at her, standing as well. “I totally understand, do what you need to do. I’ll cash in that rain check sooner or later.”

He’d started to reach out his hand for a polite good-bye handshake, but was met instead with a kiss to the cheek. The stupid grin on his face couldn’t be hidden if he’d tried. “Until next time,” he said softly, watching her as she left. She stopped to pay for her food and Cal nearly called out in protest — it’s not really treating her to lunch if she’s paying for her portion, is it? — but decided against it. And then she was gone, Mishka trotting by her side, the rain pelting them both. Cal wished he’d thought to have an umbrella on hand he could have given her — but couldn’t help but notice, through the window, that it wouldn’t be a problem, considering she was getting awfully cozy in a hug with some redhead guy.

Cal’s jaw hurt, and he realized he’d been clenching his teeth. Stella whined at his feet, perhaps despondent that her new friend had left so soon. He paid for his meal, boxing the rest of the salmon to give to the dog later. “Well, girl, it looks like it’s just you and me again,” he said, scratching her ears affectionately. “Hope you don’t mind a little rain.”

The two stepped out and made their way back to his car, still parked at the Humane Society. Stella seemed perfectly content to take her time, splashing in puddles as they went. When they’d gotten out of the rain and into the BMW, she shook herself off, sending bits of water flying everywhere. Cal chuckled, using his hands to shake the water out of his own hair. This leather interior was going to be a problem if Stella was going to be coming with him everywhere. He decided he’d have to switch up his daily driver to something with a more forgiving material.

He pulled out of the parking lot, driving carefully as they made their way through town, unwilling to take any chances with the apparent loss of common sense among other LA drivers the second there was any precipitation. Cal had decided he would return home that night — one of many, but he considered his house just outside the city to be his primary base. The high-rises were disappearing in the rear-view mirror when he finally stopped at a pet store. The two of them walked the aisles, and Cal added every toy that Stella sniffed to their basket, as well as some large bags of food, bowls, treats, special shampoo for pit bulls’ sensitive skin, and a pretty new collar. He had a tag engraved with her name, as well as his phone number on the back, and then they were on their way once more.

When they reached the house, Stella set off to smell all her new surroundings, tail waving happily. “Welcome home,” Cal said, sighing as the words fell into the empty room. He set about arranging all their new things, filling her food and water bowls, arranging her toys into a basket in the living room, and finally slumping onto the couch.

Before long, Stella returned, hopping up onto the couch to curl up beside him, her head in his lap. “Yeah, I know. Just you and me. It’s a pretty big house for just the two of us,” he said, trailing a finger up the soft fur above her nose. “What’d you think of Ana?” he asked, tilting his head as if honestly waiting for Stella to answer. “You and Mishka seemed to get along well enough. It would be terrible if you never got to see your first friend again. We’ll have to make sure that’s not the case. You know, for your sake.”

Stella licked Cal’s hand, and just as he was about to continue, his phone began to buzz in his pocket. He fished it out, and the screen, again, showed an unknown number. Cal’s brow furrowed. The previous time the number had called, no voicemail was left. It was probably just some sales call. He swiped to answer.”

“Look, whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any of it.”

“Boss, hang up!” Cal heard, though distantly.

Marcus.

He stood immediately, alarmed. “Marcus? What’s going on?”

There were rustling noises on the other end, as if the phone were exchanging hands. Then, a new voice: “Hello, Calvin. Long time. Your friend here is a tough cookie to crack. It’s a good thing he had your number in his phone — I may have had to resort to more creative ways to get him talking.”

The voice was vaguely familiar, but Cal couldn’t place it. “Who is this?” His voice was hard, and he looked around the room, as if expecting to see the guy outside one of the windows. “If you lay a finger on Marcus, I swear to God, you’ll never see the light of day ag—”

“None of that,” the voice chided in an amused tone. “Unlike you, I’m not one to want blood on my hands. It’s all just so messy. I don’t like messes. Which brings me to why I’m calling you. Let’s call it cleaning up a mess, tying up a loose end.” The voice paused, as if expecting some sort of response. Cal waited. “You really have no idea who I am, do you? How typical. Always so self absorbed, Calvin Crawford. We’re at 2089 Sunset. You show up, your friend leaves unharmed. Scout’s Honor. You have one hour.”

The call disconnected. “FUCK!” Cal screamed, nearly chucking his phone across the room. Immediately, he made his way up the stairs and into the bedroom closet, where he entered a safe code to reveal an array of firearms and other weapons. He holstered a .40 S&W, checking the magazine to make sure it was loaded, and stowed another in his pocket just in case. A knife went into his other pocket.

He rushed back down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Stella was sitting up on the couch, whining, her ears low. “You have to stay here, sweetheart,” he said, cupping her face reassuringly. “I’ll be back. I promise. Hold down the fort.”

In his car once more, he ripped it out of the driveway, nearly taking out the mailbox in the process. As he sped toward the highway, his mind reeled, trying to place the voice that had been on the other end of the line. Whoever it was, they clearly knew how to get under Cal’s skin — they’d gone right for his best friend. That wasn’t going to fly with Cal. If Marcus had so much as a bruise, this guy was as good as dead.

The pistol felt heavy on his hip. Of all the things that went on in his odd and complicated life, this was certainly his least favorite.

Bryce helped as best as he could as Ellie helped him up the front stairs, body heavy in a way she knew meant exhaustion. The drive to his modest home hadn't taken too long, Bryce had drifted off and hadn't woken until she'd shaken him awake.

The door opens with a jingle of keys, Ellie shuffles inside with Bryce propped on her shoulder. Delta shuts the door behind them as she moves forward, letting Bryce go when they're near the couch. "Do I need to call Lydia?" She asks with an arched brow, hands settling on her hips as she peers down at her best friend.

"Smoke inhalation." He answers with a wrinkle of his nose, hand lifting to rub his right eye. "Captian Morgan said I'm off until I feel better, Lydia was with a paitent so I was seen by Nurse Salvatore which means she should be calling-" He's interrupted by a phone going off, nose scrunching up as a sigh leaves his lips.

"Hey, Lyds." Ellie replies once she's answered the call, Bryce is sitting up and unlacing his boots. She's met with muffled voices and what sounds like the beeping of a heart monitor, head tilting she waits for her friend to answer.

"Where the hell is he?" Her tone is sharp and angry, Ellie winces and exhales a breath. "If he went back to work after Nurse Salvatore checked him over-" Ellie clicks her tongue once, Lydia falls silent and for a moment no one speaks.

Until Bryce begins to cough, body hunching over his knees with a hand covering his mouth. "I brought him home, he was out looking for medicine for Cammie." There's a hiss down the line, Ellie rubs her hand along Bryce's back sympathetically. "Focus on your shift, Delta and I have these two taken care of." There's movement and a loud sigh, and then Lydia's voice is filling her ear once more.

"I'll text you the treatment for smoke inhalation, you're the best." The words bring a smile to her lips, Bryce slowly quieting as his coughing fit ends. "Don't be afraid to bully them into listening either, I gotta go." There's frustration in her tone, no doubt from experience dealing with two stubborn people.

"Bye bye." Ellie chirps before ending the call, stepping away and surveying the living room with narrowed eyes. Her phone buzzes in her hand, a detailed message of what Bryce can and can't do for the next few days. Humming softly she moves towards the thermostat and changes it, glancing at her friend who's tilting to one side where he's sitting. "Right, you should shower. I'll set it for you and you won't change it. And Cammie?" The front door opens just as she speaks, a familiar figure holding another smaller body in her arms meets her.

"Oh, Ellie thank god." Mckenzie sighs out as she steps inside, strawberry-blonde hair tied messily atop her head. A little head lifts up and she's met with blue eyes and small hands reaching towards her. "I hate to do this but Lindsay called and said we're so packed that she's about ready to start tossing pastries over the display to settle the crowd." Ellie takes Cammie and Mckenzie glances at her then Bryce and a worried frown settles on her lips. "I can help if you need an extra set of hands-" She beings while her eyes glance over her brother with concern, Ellie hoists Cammie higher on her hip and offers a shake of her head.

"You're fine, not the first time. If I need help I'll call." She says and she's met with hazel eyes focusing on her, Mckenzie glances at them all and pets Delta atop her head once before turning to the door.

"You better! Cammie has a cough and fever, an upset stomach and I was told she's already vomited. Behave you two! I'm sorry, Ellie!" And she's off with a wince and dip of her head, cheek dusted in flour Ellie doubts she's even noticed.

"Alright, Bryce shower. Cammie to bed and Delta...can you find Poppy, I'd rather not get bitten today." Delta takes off with a yip, Bryce stands shakily to his feet and Cammie sniffles and clings tighter to her.

Not what she expected her Saturday to turn into, but she doesn't mind so much.

Cal’s GPS could barely keep up — he’d sped back into city limits within minutes, praying silently that he didn’t see the telltale red-and-blue lights that would delay him in getting to Marcus. Luckily, he’d avoided any law enforcement, and finally reached the address on Sunset that the caller had mentioned.

Cal parked his car around the block, grateful that the building seemed more or less abandoned, an oddity for this part of town. It was a brick sort of warehouse, with busted windows, several stories high. Outside, the sidewalks were littered with bits of steel and nails, as if whatever foundry that had been here had simply tossed their parts out onto the street when they’d closed.

Approaching as stealthily as he could, he made his way to the back of the building, pistol drawn, checking corners and blindspots before each move. He found an unlocked door and made his way through, coming into a stairwell. It only went up, so Cal followed it. At the second floor, he paused, unsure whether he should continue — but a quick glance up the flight showed that the next floor was blocked off by some debris that had collapsed in front of the entry to the third. He opened the door to the second level, and came into a dark hallway, with only one door lit near the end.

He made his way through, careful to avoid stepping on any broken glass, not wanting to announce his arrival before he’d gotten a chance to get his bearings.

On the drive here, he’d wondered about who was on the other end of that call — trying to think through a mental list of everyone he’d wronged, boyfriends or even husbands of women he’d pursued, colleagues of criminals he’d knocked off. The list was long, but this sort of thing was normally Cal’s specialty; he prided himself on his networking skills, always remembering names and faces, connections, who was who and what they did. The voice, though familiar, still hadn’t turned up a face in his mind. He had no idea what he was walking into.

He heard a cough as he neared the door, and froze. Silence followed, and he peeked around the threshold. Marcus was there, sitting in a chair tied up, similar to the way John had been tied up in Cal’s own building. Marcus looked unscathed from what he could tell, and Cal waited another beat, ensuring no one else was in the room, before he pushed the door open.

Marcus met his gaze and his eyes widened. “Boss, get out of here!”

Cal shot him a look, making quick work of untying his hands. “Who is this guy? And how the hell did he get his hands on you? You’re twice my size, and I practically live at the gym.”

Marcus didn’t look amused. In fact, he looked grim. “I was at a bar with some of the guys getting a drink,” he said, “Just trying to catch the Lakers game. Must have been something in my drink, because next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

With the guys. Cal wondered if whoever had done this was one of his own.

He finished untying the binds, and lifted Marcus to his feet. Marcus leaned hard into him, and Cal struggled a bit under his weight. Obviously, the drugs were going to make getting him down the stairs difficult. “Let’s get you out of here. We can deal with this asshole later. I’m taking you back to the house, you can stay there until we—”

Before Cal could finish, he heard the unmistakable racking of a handgun behind them. He froze, Marcus teetering a bit against him.

“Leaving so soon?” he heard, the familiar voice just behind his head.

Cal took a steadying breath. “If you wanted to talk to me, this was a hell of a way to go about it.”

“Who said anything about talking?”

He wasn’t sure he was going to get out of this. Marcus, who was usually the muscle of his operations, was incapacitated, and none of the other guys knew they were here. “Let him go, and I’m all yours.”

A hand grabbed his shoulder then, whipping him around to face the source of the voice.

Danny?

It was the IT guy from the Vanderbuilt operation. Before, Danny had seemed like the helpless, nerdy type, with his nervous questions and constantly wringing hands. Now, with a 9mm pointed steadily at Cal’s face, he realized he’d misjudged him. “Danny? What the fuck? What, you didn’t get a big enough cut of the Vanderbuilt job? How much do you want?”

Danny grinned, shaking his head. “Always so arrogant. I have much bigger things in mind, Calvin. That’s the problem with your type — you get so caught up in your big world with your big parties and big-breasted women, yet you forget how to think big.”

Cal’s patience was running thin. Whatever they’d hit Marcus with, he was practically drooling on his shoulder, and would likely need a hospital. “What do you want, kid? Let’s just get this over with.”

“I did some digging,” Danny said finally, as if excited that Cal had finally gotten him to the point, “While we were prodding around in the Vanderbuilt accounts, I looked into some of your own. You were so pressed about how Charles was dealing arms to terrorists — and yet, it appears you’re the terrorist in our own back yards, aren’t you Calvin?”

The question wasn’t rhetorical, and Cal made a face. “What are you talking about? A terrorist?”

“Close enough,” Danny continued. “It turns out that Circus Corp is only really a Corporation in name, isn’t it? It seems like those clean buildings and glittering facades are hiding something much darker, underneath, no? It would be a shame if that got out to the public. Or to the FBI.”

Cal swallowed. “Danny, you don’t understand. I’m not — I know how it looks, but you have to trust me, I have my reasons, and—”

“Of course you have your reasons. I’m sure Charles Vanderbuilt had his reasons too — those reasons probably looked something like yours. Dollar signs in the eyes. You’re all the fucking same.”

“What do you want? You might as well kill me here and now, because you’re clearly not going to listen to what I have to say. Do you want money? Want me to pay off your student loans? Drugs? What is it?”

Danny grinned, and there was something sinister in his eyes, something that made Cal certain he would regret coming here, even if only to retrieve his best friend. He lowered the gun finally, stepping up so close that Cal could feel his breath on his face.

“I want in.”

How is it harder to dress a soon-to-be eight year old, then to make sure her dad doesn't suffocate in a too warm shower Ellie has no idea. Finally getting Cammie dressed is almost immediately followed by a sharp yip from the open doorway, a glance over her shoulder shows Delta setting Poppy carefully on the ground. The Gremlin as Ellie has taken to naming him, is young and spunky with the most dramatic personality she's ever seen. Brown eyes watch her in a way that makes her narrow her eyes, though her attention shifts away when a series of coughs fill the air.

Lifting a small cup filled with strawberry flavored children cough syrup she'd found in the master bathroom, she presses it to slightly chapped lips. Cammie makes a face but drinks it with a wince, cheeks flushed in a way that has Ellie reaching for a forehead thermometer next. "Well, dorogoy. You have a pretty high fever." She murmurs softly as she sets the thermometer down on a small wooden bedside table, free hand lifting to cover her little frame. Her ears catch the sound if running water still coming from down the hall, Delta whines as she rests her head atop the sheets.

"Can I have a story?" Comes Cammie's voice after a few moments, Ellie's hand soothing through her hair. Her voice sounds like her dads had, low and gravely only there's congestion mixed in as well.

"Of course, why don't you think of one while I go check on your dad." She gets a nod in response, when she stands from her kneeled position her knees creak slightly at the movement. Delta doesn't move and with a careful glance at The Gremlin, Ellie exits the room and moves towards the master bedroom not too far away.

The bathroom door opens just as she raises a hand to knock, head tipping back on her shoulders to find hazel eyes blinking down at her. Strawberry-blonde hair now rests freely and damp atop his head, face and neck bare of the soot that had decorated them. Lifting a hand towards the doorway she arches a brow at him, he snorts and gently shoves her to the side so he can pass. He walks slowly as if sore as he moves towards the bed, clicking her tongue she closes the bathtoom door before following him. She hands him Ibuprofen and a glass of water, his nose scrunches up when he realizes it isn't ice cold like he usually drinks it.

"Do I get a story? I know you're going to tell one to Cammie." Bryce quips as be sets the glass down, mohagony wooden bedside table a slight mess with a digital clock, a book and a framed photo of a family beach trip from years ago. The master bedroom is painted light gray with a tall black bookshelf and dresser along one wall, the other wall holds a artfully decorated and comfy looking reading nook and a plush rocking chair settled in the corner. Cammie's room is painted sky-blue with her own reading nook taking up one wall, the other holds a dresser and a play area where her toys are kept as well as a bookshelf.

"Answer your phone in two minutes." Is all she replies with, tugging on his hair just as he settles comfortably beneath his sheets. She's up and moving before Bryce can do more then grunt, steps silent on the wooden floor as she moves back down the hall. Delta lifts her head from the white carpeted floor where she's laid down, a white fluffball watches from the bed. "Dorogoy..." She chides as she moves further into the room, hands lifting to tighten the ponytail she'd used to tie her hair with.

"He jumped up here I swear." Cammie squeaks out with her hands holding a book out to her, Ellie hums and accepts the book without really taking in the cover. She settles in atop the sheet and is immediately being hugged tight, a too warm little body curling in close.

"You know...I've never read this in English." Ellie comments as let's her eyes roam the cover, free hand petting through silk-soft strawberry-blonde hair. It's the first Harry Potter book The Sorcerers Stone, cartoon-based image printed colorfully across the front. She knows the basics of the world and who Harry is, but Dimitri had been into the series more then she and Sofia had ever been. A little hand pats her thigh and she glances over to find blue eyes Watchung her, cheeks still red and little nose running.

"Really? Is it different in Russian?" Cammie asks with a sniffle, Ellie reaches for a tissue and hands it over before humming softly. The cover feels smooth under her fingers, back pressing into the pillow she'd placed behind her for comfort.

"My brother read the books, I never really stayed still enough to read anything." Ellie replied softly, lips lifting into a grin that Cammie can't see. Her phone buzzing has her shifting slightly to pull it free from her pants, she answers the call and presses Speaker before setting the device down. "Alright, shall we?" She chirps with a slight wiggle of excitement, fingers opening the cover and flipping to the first page. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly
normal, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because they just didn’t hold with such nonsense..."

"Oh, yes." Ellie heard Bryce whisper through the speaker, Cammie giggled and and settled in even closer.

"Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, which made drills. He was a big, beefy man with hardly any neck, although he did have a very large mustache. Mrs. Dursley was thin and blonde and had nearly twice the usual amount of neck, which came in very useful as she spent so much of her time craning over garden fences, spying on the neighbors. The Dursleys had a small son called Dudley and in their opinion there was no finer boy anywhere..."

Her eyes were focused on the page, voice quiet and words flowing easily. No doubt both would be drifting off to sleep soon, which would give her time to prepare a meal and do whatever chores Lydia hadn't managed to get to if any at all.

For now she'll settle in to learn just what had Dimitri to fascinated back when they were children, nose buried in pages with his chin resting on his knees.

The door slammed shut behind them when Cal finally returned home with Marcus in tow. Stella greeted them excitedly, though her happy tail-wagging quickly shifted to concerned whines when she noted Marcus's sorry state. Cal dragged him to the couch, dumping him there as delicately as he could, which wasn't much considering the sheer size of him. Stella dutifully climbed up as well, making a circle and laying down on Marcus's legs. He groaned, and Cal made his way to the kitchen to get water. "We should really get you to a hospital," he said as he returned, helping Marcus to lift himself slightly so he could drink.

"And tell them what? This shit will wear off. I'm fine, boss. You shouldn't have come, I could have taken him."

Cal frowned, frustrated. "He practically shot you up with horse tranquilizer. You weren't going anywhere if they didn't want you to." What he did find comical, however, was the mental image of small, skinny Danny attempting to drag Marcus from a bar into the back of a waiting van. There was no way he'd done it alone, but no one else had been in the abandoned building aside from the three of them, as far as Cal could tell. He wasn't sure what the implications of that were.

I want in, Danny had said. Cal sat in a chair beside the couch and put his face in his hands, trying to think through how to best go about this. He didn't take too kindly to demands being made of him, or people forcing their way into his operation. Hell, if Danny had just asked, Cal likely would have found a place for him beyond the IT role he clearly wasn't satisfied with. If this kind of incident had occurred with any of his other guys, he would have nipped the problem in the bud right away. But Danny had ensured Cal knew that he had Dead Man's Switches in place -- if Cal did anything to hurt him, Danny had set things up in such a way that all of the information proving Cal's involvement in the criminal world would be released to the press and the feds. It could be a bluff, but Danny was a smart guy and Cal was sure he could set up that sort of thing.

"I don't know what to do," he said to no one in particular, not sure just how coherent Marcus was at the moment. "I can't let him have anything to do with my operations after what he did -- he'd clearly vindictive, and if I so much as give him a position he doesn't like as much as another, he'll throw a hissy fit and threaten to expose us. But if I don't bring him in, he'll do the same thing." Cal laughed without humor. "All these years in the business and I've somehow never had to deal with blackmail before. What's the status quo on dealing with these things?"

Marcus responded with a snore, having fallen asleep on the couch, and Cal sighed. He had to figure this out.

He considered hiring someone else to knock him off. Danny had only specified that if Cal hurt him, he'd expose Circus Corp. Perhaps Cal could orchestrate something that took care of the issue, but seemed like a totally random act of violence that had nothing to do with him.

Or, he could do some clean-up. Close the accounts that Danny had accessed, revoke access, move things around in such a way that any proof Danny had before would now be obsolete, and if he published it, Cal could claim it was forgery.

His head hurt as he reeled through his options, or rather lack thereof. He hated that Danny had any power over him, that he'd let his guard slip for long enough to allow something like this to happen to his best friend. And speaking of letting his guard slip...

He pulled out his phone, checking the screen for notifications. Despite everything he'd endured this evening, he still hoped he would find a text from Ana. But there was nothing. How could his day go from so wonderful to so terrible in the matter of hours?

Slipping away from a child curled around her like a koala, had been a challenge in and of itself. Once certain that Cammie was tucked in without the blanket being too tight, she moved down the hall to check on Bryce. He was sprawled on his side with his limbs stretched out, mouth open and snoring quietly. Humming softly she descended down to the main floor, checking the front door before moving through the living room and into the kitchen.

The space was large compared to her own, with a round table on one side, as island stood in the center with the actual cooking area taking up the rest of the space. Glancing down at Delta who had followed her down, Ellie rolls her shoulders before reaching down to unclasp her collar. Something white fluttered to the ground, a confused frown pulled her lips down as she lifted the oddity from the floor.

If you’re not sick of my face yet, give me a call sometime. I’d love to see more of yours. 555-1234.

Her mind flashed back to the lunch she had with Calvin, fingers tightening fractionally along the edges of the napkin before relaxing. "Who'd think he'd use you to pass a message along." Ellie dryly replies, shaking her head once before setting the napkin down on the marble countertop. The sky outside had slowly shifted to evening, orange-crimson sunlight filtered in from the window as she pondered what to cook.

Exhaling a breath she moves first to the pantry where she selects ingredients, setting them beside the stove before returning to grab a set of steel dog bowls Lydia had bought for Delta on the rare occasion she stayed over during the night. Once both were filled with food and water respectively, she sets them on a mat on the opposite side of the island, heading back to the sink to wash her hands thoroughly before focusing on the meal prep. She looses herself in the rhythm of chopping and measuring, pausing to pull out a rice cooker and pot to add to the mix.

Once the rice has been set to cook, the pot full and slowly heating with ingredients for a hearty broth Ellie let's her elbows land on the counter. A glance at her screen shows a text from Lydia and Dimitri, her social media messages are swiped away. Her eyes shift to the napkin before flicking away, nose scrunching up as she let's herself ponder.

Though he came on strong, he'd seemed genuine when they'd spoken earlier. She knows better then to let herself be swayed by anyone, the fact that she's even contemplating anything is slightly out of character for her. Locking her phone she sets it facedown on the island, turning on her heel and heading out to the living room where she'd left her bag earlier. A small journal is pulled from inside, leather bound and brown in color where she keeps her recipes safe and stored.

Lowering the heat to the pot when she re-enters the kitchen, Ellie checks on thr rice cooker before moving to peek into the laundry room. A modest sized room with space for an island to fold the clothes on the opposite wall, Ellie finds two baskets mostly filled in front of the machines. It's easy to get lost in sorting the items out into separate piles, the evening lightly slowly fading into darkness. Closing the door to the washing machine once it's filled with clothes and adding detergent, she closes the door behind her as the machine chimes.

The pot she's cooking homemade Ramen in is boiling away, she adds in the last ingredients before lowering the heat and checking on the rice. Okayu is made with rice and water, something easy to eat when one isn't feeling well. Checking her recipe notebook Ellie turns off the cooker and removes the lid, before doing the same to the pot of Ramen as well. Flicking on lights as she opens a cupboard to pull down bowls, she tugs a wooden spoon from another cupboard and beings filling each bowl. One is left uncovered to cool while the others are covered with plates to keep them warm, air rich with the smell of food.

Her fingers itch at her sides as she collects her phone, teeth digging into her lip as she moves towards the stairs. Pausing halfway up she unlocks her screen, blank message thread filling her screen in an almost tantalizing way. Stomach swooping oddly as she let's her fingers settle along the keyboard, Ellie exhales before letting herself type.

Me: I wanted to thank you for lunch. And to apologize for running out on you.

She hits send before she can consciously convince herself why this is the craziest thing she's recently done. Her message pops up in a gray bubble and mockingly glares back at her, clicking her tongue she exits the Message app and locks her phone. Shaking her head and shoving her phone her in back pocket, she continues up the stairs after flicking on the light.

Resolutely ignoring why her heart is hammering slightly in her chest.

Mentally and adamantly telling herself she won't make a habit of texting a random rich guy she'd met while undercover.

A buzz in his pocket startled Cal awake, and he sat upright quickly, his eyes flying around the room, trying to get their bearings in the darkness. At some point while sitting beside Marcus, he’d fallen asleep, despite in having only been early evening at the time — it was quite a bit later now, and his house was nearly pitch dark. Stella seemed to notice Cal’s alarmed state, and hopped down from her perch on Marcus’s leg to him, placing her nose into his hand. He rubbed her face as she did, using the other hand to wipe sleep from his eyes and yawned, his jaw cracking loudly as he did so.

He brought his phone up to check the time — 11PM — and only then, remembered what had woken him up in the first place. He squinted, the light of the phone feeling blindingly bright in the darkness of the room.

I wanted to thank you for lunch. And to apologize for running out on you.

A slow grin spread across Cal’s face. So, she’d finally seen the napkin. He looked over to Marcus, still snoring on the couch, before typing up his own reply — unsure why he suddenly felt anxious.

No apologies necessary. You can make it up to me by running in to me again sometime soon.

He sent it, and then quickly followed it with one more.

I hope Mishka wasn’t too terribly offended to be my assigned messenger. She carried out her duties well, I see. Smart girl.

He sent it without another thought, and wrinkled his nose a bit, wishing he’d thought out something better. Mishka? Really? Was the fact that they both had dogs the only thing that they could relate on?

He decided against sending a third text, locking his phone and putting it down on the armrest of the chair, rubbing his hands over his face. He made his way into the kitchen, turning on only the light above the stove so as not to wake Marcus, and quickly made them up some eggs and toast. His refrigerator at this house was pretty threadbare — he normally ate whatever the hotel was offering, and stayed there more often than not, considering it was only a couple of blocks away from his office. Cooking wasn’t his strong suit, anyway.

He brought the plates back into the living room, and gently coaxed Marcus out of his slumber. “Come on man, you gotta eat something. You can go right back to sleep after.”

Marcus grumbled in protest, but sat up, stretching and popping joints. “Shit. How long was I out?”

Cal considered. “A few hours at least. I racked out too. Let’s get some food in us and then rest up properly. Big day tomorrow.”

Marcus took a bite of his toast, and then pulled it away, looking at it as if someone had spit on it. “Dude. How do you fuck up toast? And tomorrow’s Sunday, why would it be a big day? We going to church or something?”

Cal rolled his eyes at the comment on his food preparation skills. “No — church? Are you kidding? — Tomorrow we need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about this Danny guy.”

Marcus shook his head, blowing air out through his teeth and sitting up further to scarf down his eggs. “What do you mean what we’re going to do about him? I figured you’d take his ass out. You’re the Big Dog and he’s trying to make demands of you and shit, that don’t fly with you.”

“No,” Cal said, contemplating. “No it doesn’t. And I won’t let it fly. But I can’t just knock him off.” He sighed, shaking his own head and closing his eyes in exasperation. “We don’t need to do this tonight. We’ll figure it out later. Fresh sheets are in the bedroom, you know where you’re going.”

With that, Cal departed the living room, Stella trotting happily beside him. He made his way to his own room; it was just as bare and sterile as the rest of the house, with few decorations and nearly untouched furniture. There was little point in adding personal touches when he was only here one or two days out of every month.

He checked his phone one last time before falling asleep, wishing he’d had the forethought to sneak a quick picture of Ana while he had her in front of him. He cast out the stress of Danny, though it was quickly replaced by the stress of seeing Ana with that red-haired guy, whoever he was. He slept fitfully, dreams and nightmares intermingling in his mind, circling his consciousness like vultures awaiting the untimely death of their prey.

Gently wiping sweat from Cammie's cheeks and forehead, Ellie glanced at the light sheets she'd changed not to long ago. Passing the thermometer over flushed skin, she set it aside and pulled Cammie in close. She had a mask on to protect her from getting sick, the numbers that met her gaze weren't promising at all. Earlier it had read 100.01 and now it showed 103.2, running a hand along a damp shirt covered back she bit her lips indecisivly.

Standing with Cammie in her arms, she moved towards the master bedroom. Bryce's light snores echoed in the silence, nudging him awake with a free hand. The light that flooded the room had Bryce wincing and scrunching up his nose, Ellie nudged him again and exhaled a breath. "Her fever is higher now." She murmurs with a glance at the head resting on her shoulder, Bryce grunts and shifts to slowly sit up.

By how much?" He asks as he reaches for Cammie, handing her over Ellie lifts a hand to let her fingers comb through her hair. Out of the two of them Bryce has more medical experience, she hates not being able to help more then what she's already done.

"Three degrees, I gave her cough syrup and she had a bath. Should I-" She's cut off when Bryce shifts to stand, taking a step back to give him room as he leaves his bed. When he falters she reaches out to steady him, frowning when he slowly exhales and blinks his eyes rapidly.

"Headrush, I'm good. Okay here's what we're going to do..." The list he recites is impressive to say the least, but it gives her something to focus on and do. Cammie is taken back into the second bathroom for another bath, Bryce collects her bedsheets and swaps them out for a new clean pair. Her sweat-soaked pajamas are replaced with dry ones once she's finished, nose running and cheeks still flushed.

They make their way downstairs where both dogs are sleeping on the couch, the light from the kitchen a guide in the dark. Ellie serves them their food with she and Bryce gently coax her into taking seven spoonfuls, before letting her be. The sheets and pajamas are put to wash, the already dried and folded clothes rest on the counter to be put away later.

The dishes are placed in the dishwasher, Lydia's portion is left out with a plastic container atop it that's meant to help keep it warm. The kitchen light is turned off and a quick check is done to make sure all the doors are locked. She guides them upstairs with itchy eyes, both of them say good night to Cammie as she curls up under her new sheets with a purple bunny tucked in close. A moist towel is left over her forehead to hopefully lower her fever some, then the only light in the whole house comes from the master bedroom.

"Do I have clothes here?" She asks as Bryce sits at the edge of his bed, hands coming through his hair. He hadn't eaten much himself but had promised he'd eat more later, half slumped where he sits she can see his exhaustion.

"Think so, yeah. Lydia somehow picked out what was yours and gave you a drawer. I think she said it would be the third on the right." His voice doesn't sound like he's speaking through gravel anymore, he sounds tired if anything. Ellie moves to the designated drawer and pulls it open, blinking at the amount of clothes inside. She stays here when she's off shift and cammie needs a babysitter sure, but she doubts she'd been over enough to have left this much clothes.

"Since when did I leave so many clothes here?" She asks in confusion, picking a crimson tank top and black gym shorts from their folded piles. They smell like the detergent they use, soft and well locked after.

"You do know you spend a fair amount of time here right?" Bryce huffs out at her, laying down with a soft groan. With the evidence staring back at her, she silently agrees with him that she must because the neatly folded piles don't lie. Slipping into the bathroom to change, she pulls her phone free from her pants as she slips them off. Once she's dressed and washed her face, she's just started searching for a spare toothbrush when the door opens to show a large hand holding one out to her.

"Here. Forgot to leave one out, when your done do you mind sharing with me? Lydia texted she won't be off until five and there's no way you're sleeping on the couch. Bryce murmurs before closing the door, Ellie snorts and shakes her head at him. They've been friends long enough that anyone who knows them only see two best friends, though there was a time that rumors had started that they were having an affair. But if anyone saw the way Bryce looked at Lydia and doubted his love for her, then they were stupid.

It's happened several times by now that they'll end up sleeping beside each other on the couch after long shifts or too many drinks, that Lydia simply laughs and posts the pictures to her Instagram with heart emojis and no one bats an eye. Spitting out foam and washing out her mouth, Ellie shakes her head and stifles a yawn as best she can into her elbow.

The room is dark when she closes the bathtoom door behind her, steps light as she moves to the other side of the King-sized bed. There is a guest bedroom she can sneak off to once everyone else is asleep, her phone is set down and left alone, body curling up as a slow breath leaves her lungs.

"I hope you don't mind being cuddled." Comes a muffled voice moments later, ellie snorts and presses her cheek harder into her pillow. Bryce and Cammie share a habit of cuddling anyone who will accept it, limbs curling and locking like octopus arms.

"Go to sleep." She mutters with a foot kicking backward, she's met with air and a low chuckle.

She doesn't hear her phone vibrate later in the night.

Cammie joins them with the dogs following behind, Ellie's plan to slip into the guest bedroom is thwarted by little arms curling around her waist. Sleep claims them all with little resistance, the moon luminous and large outside.

The severe light of Sunday morning brought Cal back to his senses abruptly. He'd forgotten to shut the curtains the night before, and woke in the early morning hours. Cal felt the day stretching out before him, a vast expanse of time to be filled with anything but the silence of his own company.

On his way down the stairs to let Stella out to go to the bathroom, he knocked on the guest bedroom door to see if Marcus was awake yet. As he did so, his knuckles instead pushed the cracked door open even further... revealing an empty bed, comforter and pillows neatly arranged. Damnit, Marcus. Before he could finish his own thought, his finger was already dialing the number.

Marcus picked up on the first ring. "Dude, don't be mad, I just--". The sound of the highway filled the background of his voice.

"You were drugged, Marcus. What the hell are you doing, driving?" His voice was laced with irritation and concern. "We agreed we were gonna plan our next move today. You better not be going after Danny solo!"

"I'm not," Marcus interjected, sounding frustrated himself. "Jenna called me, freaking out that I never showed last night. I didn't think to text her that I was staying at your place. I'm just going to reassure her that I'm fine. Shit, dude, you're wound up tight. We'll figure out this Danny thing, just take a day to relax, you clearly need it."

Click.

Exasperated, Cal sighed, shoving his phone into his pocket. He hadn't thought of Jenna, Marcus's girlfriend. He'd been so preoccupied with the Danny thing, he hadn't ensured to cover his friend's back so he could rest up without setting off alarm bells. He needed to get his head screwed back on straight, he was starting to lose it. This whole weekend had been one big distraction -- Calvin Crawford was not the type to let things slip through the cracks.

What I need, his mind sounded off indignantly, Is to get laid. Nothing to clear my head like a beautiful woman.

Cal shook off the thought, somewhat perturbed by himself. There was only one beautiful woman occupying his mind at the moment, and she hadn't responded to his texts yet.

He was left to face the day alone, but at least he had Stella. He took her outside, watching her bound across the yard, her energy and innocence a stark contrast to the complexities of his own life.

The day stretched on, filled with simple activities meant to distract and soothe the mind. He watched a movie with Stella curled up beside him, ordered in a takeout lunch, and found respite in the cool water of the pool against the heat of his thoughts. Sundays, with their quiet and lack of distractions, forced Cal to confront parts of himself he could usually ignore. His business, with its demands and stressors, offered an escape he found himself yearning for. The thought of Monday brought a surprising sense of relief, a return to a world where he felt in control, where he could don his usual persona and leave the solitude behind.

Ellie awoke to a heavy weight settled along her body, another lighter weight rested along her ankles. Eyes blinking open as sleep fades away, she's met with muted sunlight filtering into the room and a hand resting inches from her nose. Somehow during the night both Bryce and Cammie had shifted, and somehow Ellie had ended up as a human pillow.

Snorting softly into the silence, Ellie shifts beneath Bryce's weight to reach for her phone. Just as she's unlocked the screen a distant sound draws her attention away, head lifting and eyes landing on a figure nestled in blankets. Blue eyes blink at her slowly in a way that Ellie can't help but mirror, Lydia shifts and stands on silent feet.

Wiggling out from beneath a pair that cling like koala's, Ellie quietly follows Lydia as she moves down to the main floor. It's early and with it comes a slight chill, they pass Delta and Poppy who are fast asleep to enter the kitchen.

"I'm surprised you didn't leap out of bed and try to attack me." Lydia murmurs with an arched brow, Ellie snorts and sits down on a barstool with a wave of her hand.

"Funny, now why aren't you sleeping?" She asks instead of responding to the tease, eyes roaming over the woman before her as she shrugs and huffs out a breath.

"Believe me, I want to be asleep for the next two days." Lydia begins and a lightly-tanned hand lifts up to run fingers through brown strands, Ellie tilts her head and stays quiet. "But the last four hours or so involved a major multiple car pileup that...well frankly I'm surprised they let me leave." Her lips are pursed and her brows are furrowed, Ellie can't help but grimace in sympathy for her friend but also the victims.

"Adrenaline crash." She replies as she stands, moving towards the stove and shoving Lydia towards the chair she'd just vacated. "Right then, sit and I'll make us some tea, then you'll take a nap while I wrangle your husband and daughter and then head home." She hadn't forgotten the surprise Sofia had mentioned, but she also didn't want to leave her friends without at least helping them first.

So she sets to boiling water and telling Lydia how their day went yesterday, letting the dogs out when they join them not too long after.

She does wrangle both onto the couch with their own blanket each, after ensuring Lydia was settled into bed after a shower and two cups of tea. Before she leaves she makes them food for later, sending off texts as she waits for the food to finish cooking.

Absently she takes a picture of Delta who's been watching her move around, fingers moving across her screen. Her eyes are large and almost pleading, her ears are slightly lowered in an expression clearly meant to tug at the heartstrings.

You owe her a treat. She attaches to the picture she sends him, eyes flicking king up to the first text. She doesn't reply to it until she's seated in an Uber, leaving behind three sleeping people with warm food and a locked front door.

Maybe I'll surprise you with a visit sometime. Or maybe you can visit me. She sends the message without even checking, only to wince and almost immediately delete it when she catches a glimpse of what she'd said. Really now? She couldn't or rather shouldn't be encouraging encounters with Calvin, her stomach twists as she locks her phone and rests it facedown along her thigh. She needed to focus on her job, on her family and those she kept close. No doubt Monday will bring with it chaos and running around, but with it comes relief because she can focus on something that isn't the occasional thought of a rich and rather bold businessman and his cute puppy.