Skye Keaton's Story

Cole Occheto
Stopping short, Cole wore an odd combination of a glower and a smirk. He complied with his sister's hand signal, his gun drooping in his grip as it fell to his side. With macabre exertion his baby sister stuffed her finger into the wound Cole was accountable for. "Well," he shifted his gaze between Frank and Mae, "Consider yourself lucky." He wiggled his fingers in a sort of spirit way, embellishing the size of them and silently elucidating. Noxious. That's what Mae had become; Cole had to try and think of something to calm her down before she imposed suffering on everyone around her. Their was an immense fee to be paid for the tribulation she herself, had faced in a mere fourteen hours.

He acknowledged the look in her eyes as retaliation. Body count at the end of the night would hopefully be zero on her part, but that was completely wishful thinking. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. He jerked his head away as his little sister trained the gun on Frank. But, he was half stunned when he didn't hear a gunshot, or two. Instead he heard his father's voice. "This isn't going to end well," he muttered aloud as he pivoted. His father wore a long coat, and before Cole could catch the conversation drifting through the rain, he withdrew his snubnose.

"Dad!" Cole shouted, not expecting what came next as his sister pointed two guns. One was inches from Joe's face, one was aimed at his father. She was on edge and, he expected that if anyone attempted to stop her, she'd stop them first. A bullet flew by his father's ear, causing the man to blink rapidly rather than duck.

Cole Occheto

The Occheto boy raised his gun again, directed at his father, "Don't do it." More than anything he was exhausted from the theatrics, perhaps less affected than his sisters. Shock value was rarely manufactured within him due to the things he'd seen in his time of working for his father. He rolled his neck with agitation, "Mae go… Just go." The Italian woman almost scoffed, still holding her .40 and heaving with apprehension.
"Mae. Go." He reaffirmed.
"Really, Cole?" The question left her mouth in the form of a scowl.
"You said what you needed to, just go."
"I think I struck a nerve," she said as she stormed away from her father, the crime scene, and her newfound little sister, "Good."

Meteorological conditions worsened as Cole closed in on the dead body, calling Joe over. From the side of his mouth he said, "Let's get this shit cleaned up." Big Daddy however, stood amongst the two young men, peering after Maria for a moment, lost for words. Equally as misplaced, he looked at Skye. But his face was stern again, speaking no emotion as his cold gunmetal eyes shifted to and fro. He was caught and, it wasn't often that he experienced that burden. And luckily for him, his son spoke little on behalf of the circumstances as he once again prioritized doing his father's bidding. The cobalt Ford Fusion whipped out of the parking lot with a squeal.

Utilizing his usual charm Cole grabbed Frank's ankles, "It's nice to see that all the cops in Chicago don't sit around and eat doughnuts, huh?" A muffled laugh gurgled in the back of his esophagus as he began to lift with the help of Joe's strength. Just when they had it balanced, Big Daddy growled, "Qualcuno ha bisogno di pager."

"Oh, really?" Cole nearly dropped the ankles in his hands, "Someone has to pay?"
"Yes." His father stated blankly.
"Someone has to pay for your fuck ups?" The blue-eyed miscreant paused, "No. You need to take accountability where it's due whether you like it or not. You're a liar. I could give a shit less, really. None of us are saints and I can say that with confidence. A lot of us though, we're doing our jobs. I'm just doing what is expected of me here. But you, you got figured out tonight. You need to fix that. Not any of us. You. And you can't raise your hand to a woman because she hurt your feelings."

Jackson Hughes
Little did Jackson know, on the floor just below, Lance was still hanging around. Had he caught that, things would have inevitably been more shaken up than anything one Russian lummox could spawn. The looming brickhouse of a man relented a little, apologizing with a major lack of probity. Regardless, it bothered Jackson little. With a simple nod, Jackson let the guy off to go find whatever it was that he needed. Precautions should have been taken, but Jackson found his intentions wandering on the impetuous side. If the guy returned brandishing a rocket launcher, they were all fucked. Hopefully that was just an impractical figment of his imagination, though.

On the first floor, a loud crack, almost the sound of timber was heard. He didn't budge from the office as he ventured towards Martin, "He didn't give you too much trouble, right man?" Beneath his jacket, his stomach lurched with indignant hunger. A man could only be assumed as stupid if he walked away from a dish Terron made, but duty did call. Undoubtedly he'd have to fill that discrete void with alcohol which hopefully Aurora would be carting up any minute.

He strode out to the hallway where he could overlook the banister. Nearly falling in a heap over Daniel, he stopped impulsively and looked him over, "You look like hell, kid." Then he moved to the baluster and looked down to see an unidentified man slumped on the bar, probably drunk. Behind Jackson, Aurora had come happily with the drinks as he asked. "Just set em' down," he instructed. Buca's doors burst open, a girl of precisely 5'9" (only in those heels, though) rolled in from the storm, her hair and clothes soaked. Seized in her grip was the very discernible .40 he had seen her wield so many times.

It seemed she was in a daze as she stopped just beyond where the doors swung shut. Maybe she was gathering herself. Tucking away her gun, she peered upwards as if she were some sort of clairvoyant. Her green eyes burned into him. He tried to force a smile. Hell, it looked like she needed it. But he couldn't muster it as he looked at her, drained and astray.

Cole Occheto

"I suppose you're right." Big Daddy said in crippled English, harsh under his leaden Sicilian accent. The feral weather whipped rain across what skin was exposed of Cole's as he and his friend hauled the body towards his car. After dumping the lifeless form into his trunk with a thud, he brushed his hands off and tossed the gun in on top of Frank. "I'll get this all handled…"
"Don't leave a trail." Big Daddy grunted, attempting to light a cigar.
"Do I ever?" Cole beamed with confidence and derision.
"Well…"
"Man, shut up." Cole shut the trunk.

As he paced back to the driver side, he remembered the note in his pocket. His bad luck was simultaneously unsightly and strewn in every which way. Now he had to worry about a potentially pregnant girl he hooked up with months ago, a dead cop in his trunk, the revelation that he had a sister he never knew about, and Mae going off on a rampage. Ground painfully, his teeth clamped together as he waved off his father who was already walking back to his car, fighting against the droplets to ignite the end of his smoke.

Flecked with water, his face still seemed content and unfazed. His azure eyes burned through the black, waterlogged night from the driver seat. He supposed there was a slight upside to the entire ruination; he didn't hold a grudge against his father. Whatever he did was his business and even though it was a betrayal of grand proportion, Cole couldn't have cared less. Revving the engine, he kept the car in park as the interior was pervaded with blasting heat. His thoughts refused to stumble upon something worthy of saying to the teenage girl who he thought was in his back seat. It was probably weighing her down just as it did Mae, and sympathizing words were hard to find.

"I'm not going to keep you like some sort of hostage," he finally breathed as he pulled off his damp coat and tossed it into the passenger seat. "What happened tonight was ten different levels of fucked up and… I'm sorry Skye. We didn't know. Whatever you feel, whatever you want to do when you get out of this car… You're entitled to it. I can't make any of this seem less… bad. It sucks." He wanted to kick himself for how dense and unhelpful he sounded. When he looked into the mirror, there was no one.

"Shit," he muttered. Any type of focus he could have hoped to attain was lost as he wondered what to do about his not-so-one-night-stand. If he had the concentration to, he'd be cursing himself in his own mind for being so selfish but the nucleus of his notions was all but gone. He got out of the car, letting it run as he glanced around just in time to see Skye's silhouette being brutally smashed by a car.

"No," Cole barely managed, the words drying up in his throat and hardly rasping their way out. He broke into a full sprint towards Skye, crumpled in the road. Blood veiled her face, expressionless but still alive. "Skye," he forced, touching his fingers to the veins on her wrist. She's still alive, he thought as he gathered the tiny girl who was his other baby sister, into his arms. He had an entire cabinet of implements sure to weigh him down with guilt by the time he finally returned home. But for the time being, he had to get her to a hospital. Then his thoughts darted back to the body in his trunk. Fuck, I'm going to have to leave her at the ER.

Jackson Hughes

Windy City seemed to be more of a primary destination for the night rather than Maya's hotel room that was Jackson's gratuity. She was mentally off in uncharted territory, that much he could tell from the expression on her face when he had squinted over the indoor balcony to see what she was up to. If he wasn't about to dive face-first into Maria's affairs, he wasn't going to explore Maya's either. After all, he had saved her from herself less than twenty four hours ago and, he didn't feel like he owed anyone much of anything. Well, except Martin.

The renowned translator shouldn't have had to put up with such malarky from a big boy with his panties in a bunch, regardless if it concerned an agreement typed up by Martin or not. Jackson was ultimately the right hand of Big Daddy, one of the very first young enforcers and one of the most critical. Blameworthiness freckled his conscience for not paying more attention when Vlad flounced into Buca with a chip on his shoulder. The dirtying of hands was tackled by enforcers, not scholars and blue stockings.

He drained two large glasses consecutively then wobbled back onto the open second floor plan to check up on the state of things below. He caught Maria just as Daniel plucked her hand away from his wrist. A spiteful simper wrenched at his mouth as he watched but was annihilated when Daniel spoke a remnant that indicated he was driving her home. As the translator ambled up the stairs, obviously afflicted by his injuries, Jackson raised an eyebrow, "You sure you can drive her? I can do it, you don't look so good."

Before he had an opportunity to act the least bit sympathetic, key word being act, the young man was down the stairs again. Grumbling, Jackson pivoted and went back into Martin's office.

Cole Occheto
Hastening to his side was the assailant that just nearly killed his little sister. Limp in his arms, he sheltered her from the rain to the best of his ability and gritted his teeth. If his hands weren't full, he would have reached for his gun and shot the sorry bastard. It would have been a double-standard type of move, being that Cole had so mindlessly injured and even taken lives from people. The thunder rolled, rattling Cole's feral conscience.

He stopped short of his car, thinking about the body in his trunk. Slowly he rotated in place to face the driver, "I'm her brother. I need you to…" Stirring unconsciously the girl twitched a little, the impact of the hit still perturbing her poor, tiny body even in her blacked out state. He couldn't begin to fathom the possible internal damage done.

"Take her to the hospital. Say it was a hit and run." The whole thing sounded impossibly shady, but Cole was good at sounding persuasive and practical. "Her name is Skye Keaton. They'll call our mom but she's paralyzed from the waist down and in a wheelchair. I'm going to go pick her up and get to the hospital; we have no other immediate family and my mom will want to be there."

He dumped the girl into the driver's arms, "You can just get her to the E.R. and leave. I don't want your ID, I don't want your insurance info. Just get my sister to the E.R." Before the frazzled young man had a chance to object, Cole squeezed in, "It's the least you could do."

No further words were exchanged as Cole finally dodged the storm for real, shoving himself into his car despite the little undetectable angel on his shoulder telling him to stay with Skye. The Ford belted out of the cafe parking lot and sped off to the nearest bar. The last thing he needed was everyone in Buca on his ass about what went down, so he'd just stop at the next best thing to get a few drinks in his system in hopes of calming his nerves.

When he pulled into the nearest bar parking lot, he was displeased to see some prick parked right in a no-parking zone and partially blocking up the driving lane. Then he saw the familiar blond and black hair, matted in the rain and shuffling around in what appeared to be a fight with… His cousin? Hardly on the brakes before Cole jumped out, he yelled, "Julian!"

He jogged over, intervening and looking at his family member with disgust. "Cops," he spat, grabbing Rosa and standing in front of her, "Play the good guy but behind the scenes?" He glanced at Suri, "You like to hit girls, man?" If Julian so much as attempted to make a single pace towards any of the females Cole was prepared to lay his ass out, still shocked at the way his own cousin handled his fiance.


Jackson Hughes
The glass was silently suffering under the pressure of Jackson's grip, his clench slackening at the sound of Martin's explanation. Bringing one wrist to his face to wipe feeble sweat from his forehead, he riposted, "Fucking Russians." Shaking his head, he wore an evasive grin. Martin had to without fail know why more than one person was vexed by the origin of those people. Their assumptive behavior and likeliness to literally jump the gun led more than a couple to dislike them, let alone trust them. On top of it all, Maria was assaulted earlier in the day by a pair of their natives.

Martin was hyperextending himself to attempt to reassemble the sense of organization that prevailed prior to Vlad's berserk episode. "They have a habit of not handling business too directly. Always someone through someone through someone else. But I guess we do it that way here. But what the fuck, man. Don't they know that such disorderly communication is bound to pose some problems?" Jackson sighed, swaying his head in disapproval of such etiquette.

He peered out of the doorway, his vision trained on the second floor to check so no one would hear him as he said, "Maria came in all soaking wet, dripping on the floor. Just left with the other translator. Everyone made a fuss over the princess being distressed."

Katherine Valle

Demitria Lawrence

Makenzie Williams

The alfresco brawl was perfectly fit for a movie as the Chicago empyrean spit its rage onto any inhabitants that may be unsheltered below. On the pavement were flecks of blood being washed away by substantially size drops. Grim humor hung in the air, coming from Suri's mouth as she lay on the sidewalk where an unidentified redhead attempted to help her to her feet. From Julian came no recoil. No angry words nor movements in Cole's direction at least.

"Piece of shit pig," he spat as his cousin tried to intimidate his own fiance into leaving with him, "I'm sure she'd be much safer locked up in a house with someone who beats her, right?" He called out as Julian zipped into his car which was dangerously close to his parked, running Ford. With a sigh he looked to Julian's anticipated wife, wrapping her up in his arms. She shivered against him, full-tilting him into a merciful state. "In-the-daylight-hero-acting-piece-of-shit-cowardly-motherfucker." The slew of insults spewed from Cole's mouth like greased lightning and followed the exhaust from Julian's vehicle, sounding half funny and half retarded. But he meant every word.

Cole was vastly larger than little Rosalinda, which he was used to. He took advantage of his size to lower his lips to her hair and whisper into her tresses, "You don't ever go back there. You don't deserve that." He let her go, well aware that the comfort he offered for ex-employees was tossed to the curb or unwelcome. Aesthetically and internally appealing, Cole was no stranger to Rosa's charm. She was dangerous and wild and completely wrong for Julian. Well, actually, he was just wrong for her.

But he knew women. He'd been with handfuls of them and despite red flags and warnings they'd stay with Cole, only to have their hearts recklessly demolished by his ways. None of those traits encompassed abusing women physically, though, that was for sure. And judging by the look of helplessness in Rosa's eyes, she was in love with a monster she otherwise didn't know how to escape. The funniest thing about such a situation was the woman typically believed their abuser would protect them.

"Suri," Cole said loudly, "You alright?" Not only had Julian assaulted his dear one, but Suri as well. It earned him a nice spot tacked in Cole's brain on a long hit list, riiiiight at the top. Had Julian not made away so quickly, Cole would have at least beat him in the face with the butt of his gun until Julian truly interpreted the damage and pain he inflicted on others.

At this rate, Cole was never going to get the body in his trunk handled let alone see the cresting opportunity to rush to Skye in the hospital or call Lea. As far as she was concerned, he hoped it was some sick joke rather than the alternative harsh reality. And who knew if Skye ever even made it to the hospital. He couldn't trust that guy. God dammit, what the fuck was I thinking? What's wrong with me? For once in his life, Cole was prepared to buckle completely under the burden of what came with being a delinquent of hundreds of different degrees.

Katherine Valle

Demitria Lawrence

Makenzie Williams

Katherine Valle

Demitria Lawrence

Cole Occheto

Cole chain-smoked in his car, parked adjacent to the rolling, starless hills of farmland. The ugly odor of smoke plastered on his clothes, causing him to gag a few times upon recollection of the ablaze body he'd disposed of. His fingers treacherously searched his pockets and fumbled with an empty carton of cigarettes before he figured he might as well head back. In a last attempt to find one more cancer stick, his fingers found the note.

He really barely remembered the girl, but he wasn't so memory-impaired as to assume he didn't know her at all. He probably met her at a party and… It all came back at once, the drinking and dancing. In fact it was a night that Jackson and Cole insisted Maria and Aurora have one of those 'girl's' nights. "Lea," he muttered as he punched the number into his phone, letting it ring out until it met the soft, delicate sound of her voicemail recording. He was about to hang up when the recording cued. He kicked the car into drive and began back towards the inner-city, holding the phone in one hand and gripping the steering wheel in the other.

"Lea, it's Cole. I got your note but --- ah… Uh. If you were nearby why didn't you just come talk to me? I don't know when I'll have some free time so if this is as important as you're insinuating then… Well, just call me back." He ended the call abruptly and threw the phone into the passenger seat. 'It's important'. He knew damn well what that meant and if she was serious, he wasn't going to hesitate about getting her to the nearest clinic and financing the entire trip himself.

When he pulled into the dingy parking lot bordering his home, he sighed heavily and looked at his tainted hands. It was well past 2AM and he desperately needed rest. His night had weighed extremely heavily on him despite his ever-handsome-and-charming demeanor. Between Maria, Frank, Skye, Lea, Rosa, Suri and Julian, he felt like his head was spinning at a hundred and ten miles an hour. He was displeased to open the door to an empty home, coming no reply to his Italian opera. He hated sleeping alone and already guilt was overtaking him where Aurora was concerned. Did she already know? Was she done with him? What was he going to do?

He gave himself up to sleep, hoping the next day would prove to be full of new opportunities and better circumstances. After all, it was wishful thinking that kept him going most days. Well, that and Aurora.

Katherine Valle

Demitria Lawrence

Makenzie Williams

The hastening sun took no time in rising up beyond sky scrapers to awaken the city and just as Cole had shut the door, Jackson commented, "Yeah, drunk." and then was already rambling some nonsense.

"Your sister waltzed off into the rain last night with that fucking Chinese dork and on top of that I had to deal with some Russian putz giving Martin all kinds of grief. Where the fuck were you? Better yet, where the hell was your dad? Why was every piece of the family coincidentally gone last night? You got something to tell me?"

Cole's eyes were bitter and cold, reminiscing of the prior night, "That entire piece of dialogue was bizarrely racist." He collapsed into a chair and took a hearty drag from his cigarette as though he were drawing from it in an attempt for some food for thought, some idea as to what to say. Then, he put the cigarette out and rendered any gentle attempt useless as he stood, "Let's go upstairs, I gotta clean up and tell you a whole mess of stories concerning last night. You might need a drink after I'm through."

Laughing, Jackson followed Cole then down the open hallway which tempted him to peek into Maria's room as he passed; the sunlight stabbed through her lavender curtains, a familiar sight. He hated himself for not being able to abandon his recollections and feelings towards her.

Shoving the door open, Cole went to his closet and grabbed a pair of boots. Jackson plopped onto his friend's bed, pushing up and down on the mattress, "How can you not sleep in this bed?" The indigo-eyed Occheto boy jerked his head back to look at Jackson and replied, "I think I have insomnia man. Something like that at least."

"I think alcohol just has reverse effects on you," Jackson snorted, "So tell me now,"
"Relax princess. So you remember when that guy jumped out the window?"
"Ah, the infiltrator!" Jackson grinned, "Yep, find him?"
"Yeah, turns out he goes back. Frank Russo. He knows us. Was plotting some revenge via disemboweling my father's past."
"… English, Cole." Jackson rolled his eyes, comprehending but sick of the blue-collar lingo.
"The new waitress with all that shit in her face… She was getting involved with Frank. Turns out Frank dug up her family roots and after some impressive research revealed bank statements. My dad has been putting money in that girl's account for a long time. Parental duty I guess. You follow?"

Charcoal eyes widened and stripped themselves of their glassy, hungover despondency. Yet no other apparent emotion was shown as Jackson looked into his friend's face gravely, "You have another little sister? Shit! I knew that girl looked familiar. She sorta' looks like Maria. Damn, does she know?" Jackson extended his legs, leaning forward to prop his elbows on his knees with anxious anticipation almost like a schoolgirl.

"Maria? Fuck yeah she knows dude. She was on my ass, creeping when I was spying on Frank and Skye at the Hard Bean. Weird, right? I only went to try and talk to Skye because I heard she was running her mouth a little too freely about Buca. All this shit went down real fast and I tried to get ahold of Skye before she got in her car and left and then before I know it, Frank's got a gun to Maria and walking her outside too. Then Joe shows up, all out of the blue, and I shoot Frank. Only in the leg, I didn't wanna' kill him. Goes down," Cole made a plummeting, generic whistling sound as he dove his hand downward to mimic Frank's body, "And Maria's on top of him, jamming her fingers in the wound and torturing him. Then she kisses him," Cole's brow creased, "And she says something I didn't hear. But anyway, all this going on, and my dad shows up and calls out to Mae and she gets up with her gun, and Frank's and aims down my dad. Joe tried to stop her and it only made shit worse, then she's aiming two guns at two different men."

Stiffening, Jackson sat up. He pulled his arms back behind him for his palms to cradle his head as he forced his mind to intercept the the in-stream of new, crazy knowledge Cole was spouting, "So what then? Did she shoot your dad…?" He couldn't begin to register what was going to happen if Big Daddy was murdered by his one and only, precious little 'Donna Maria' as Martin had put it perfectly the night before. It was ironic though to hear it, and somehow Jackson wouldn't be too dumbfounded if some harm came onto Antonio from his daughter.

"She wanted to, but she didn't. Instead she turned around and blasted Frank. Blew his brains out at close range then stood up and snuck my dad right in the face. I mean really got him good. He looked like he wanted to hit her back and then I told her to leave. I told her to just go. She left and my dad starts babbling about how 'someone has to pay'. I looked at him like he was fuckin' brain dead and reamed him the fuck out for raising his hand to Mae like that no matter how pissed he was. You know? He was just pissed he got caught. And I could care less about him lying and hiding a little sister from me, man. It doesn't surprise me."

Stricken and stained with the bizarre impression from the night before, Cole's mind seemed to stop pumping out cogent or reliable thoughts as he paused and zoned out while he forced boots onto his feet. To this, Jackson inched off the bed more and tilted his head, literally on the edge of his seat, "Is there more?"

Scoffing, Cole arrived promptly back to reality, "I forgot to tell you about the note, too. Found a note on my windshield from that girl Lea we met at the party fuckin' - man it was so long ago I don't even remember. But she's pregnant - I can't, I don't even…" Cole grunted as he tried not to let the concerns get the better of his thoughts, "Anyway I um - loaded up the body after Mae dipped and then I hear this … noise. Turn around to see Skye was trying to get away and got nailed by a car. She was completely out when I picked her up, but then I remember I have a fuckin' cop's body in my trunk and asked the driver… Stupid I know: to take her to the hospital as a Jane Doe basically. Then I dip out and figure I should get a drink to get me calmed down."

Jackson nodded, understanding at least that tidbit. Had he been in Cole's shoes he would need more than just a drink, he'd need a truckload of bottles and to be safely distanced from everyone, "Did she get to the hospital alright? Did you check on her at least?"

As he paced to the window to force it open wider, Cole riposted flatly, "No. When I got to the bar off of Cotton I see Suri, some random redhead, Rosa and Julian all scrapping over something or another. I couldn't fucking believe it man, all that, and then running into another mess. He was man handling Sur and Rosa like they were ragdolls and I barely stopped my car before I got out. I wanted to beat his ass but he belted up and took off. You can tell we have different blood lines." Cole grumbled and chuckled at the same time, "Rosa didn't want to be bothered with my lecture and Suri was alright so I went to Spokes to get rid of the body."

"Spokes? Damn man, that's how you know shit got real last night. You went to the hills to get rid of it. You're scared of someone findin' out." Jackson stood up and pushed the door open a little more, "Let's go have a smoke outside and get some fresh air or somethin'." Relenting slightly, Cole nodded and said, "Yeah… Wonder what my pops is up to. Scared to know, though."

The two trailed back into the kitchen where Cole was a little perturbed to see Aurora shuffling the cabinets around and undoubtedly planning breakfast as usual. She didn't hear anything, did she? Shit, there was no way. He wasn't talking that loud.

"There she is," Cole breathed as he swept her up into his arms and kissed her head, "be back in in a few babe." Once outside, Cole inhaled sharply as a cool breeze met his bare skin. "Cover up your titties with a training bra or something," Jackson jabbed as he lit up a cigarette.


Cole shivered, causing his abdominal muscles to tense up. "We gotta' go to Windy City tonight and see what kind of shit we're up against - heard there's been some drama and suspicious looking dudes." As he stood, trembling in the nippiness of the morning, he clumsily typed a text to Martin:
Think you'll be up to spying tonight? Heard you had a run-in last night with the ol' boy Vlad. I had one or two myself with Julian and his fiance. Believe that? Anyway, let me know.

Katherine Valle

Demitria Lawrence

Cole Occheto

They'd removed the majority of Skye's piercings for whatever procedures they had to administer. Her face was peaked and washed out, drained of life and that certain zest she usually had. It wasn't until this point that he really felt like he could cry. But he stifled it, gripping the rail of the hospital bed and uttering painful words, "Skye I - I'm so sorry… I - you know I just don't… Even…" His hand lightly grasped hers, engulfing the tiny frail bones.

"Who the hell are you?" Cole let his little sister's hand go seemingly no sooner than he had held it in his own. "I'm her brother." He said blatantly, his sorrow exiting through his mouth as he spat with disdain. "You're connected with him aren't you?" Cole rolled his shoulders, he couldn't afford anymore stressors. At his height, he loomed over Skye's mother. Cold cerulean eyes peered at the woman, "Yeah, get told I have the same eyes all the time. Weird because - she does too." He pointed to Skye.

The woman's retorts were called for but Cole couldn't reason with it as his anger welled in his throat. "Boy? You're certainly not my mother… who would probably be rolling over in her grave if she knew that you were screwing around with my dad while she was at home taking care of the family they made together." Morally he probably owed Skye's mother some explanation but nothing else came as he shoved past the woman, leaving the room without a word.

Faded green and ivory walls closed in on him as he rounded a corner, irritable and strained with guilt. His boots thudded against the tile floor as he checked his texts and followed the arrows plastered on signs to get to the cafeteria.

Off to the side drinking tea with a wrinkled nose was Martin. Well that was easy, Cole mentally noted. He strode over, tossing his phone onto the table as he plopped into a chair and rubbed his temples, "How's Rosa?" For a few moments he cradled his head and breathed in slowly, mentally preparing himself for what he had to inform Martin of, in the most condensed way possible.



Jackson Hughes

Jackson had gone inside just in time to miss Aurora. He could hear her upstairs fussing with laundry and muttering something to herself. Rubbing his head fervently, he started up the stairs and followed the sound of her tiny voice.

When he got to her, her shoulders were tight as she punched a number into her phone. Playfully Jackson stepped around to face her, abruptly musing, "Whatcha' doin'?" From the look on little Aurora's face he could tell she by no means expected anyone to interrupt her. Lowering his head, he mockingly put his fingers to his lips, "Important? I'll be quiet," but then she ended the call and proceeded with the laundry.

She was off to the kitchen again in no time, he high-tailed it to stay in step with her. Was he making it too obvious? He stopped short of the kitchen, standing in the doorway and inhaling the scent of bacon. "Smells good," he said gingerly, turning to go back to the couch and collapse on it. Kicking his feet up, he wondered if she had ever truly forgiven him for aiming her down and letting a bullet rip through her shoulder. In spite of the dispassionate person he often was and portrayed himself to be, he never quite forgave himself flora that incident.