[center][img]https://txt.1001fonts.net/img/txt/b3RmLjEwNi43NjY3NjcuVTJ4dllXNWxJRVpoY21sei4w/bachelorette.regular.webp[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/r7scdkh.png[/img][/center]
 [right][b]Interactions:[/b] Edict [@AtomicEmperor], Anyone but Britney
[code]Flowers and Canvases[/code][/right][hr]

Sloane had a migraine. It had started as a probing pin in the back of her eye as Kali flashed his badge, flared as Drake pulled a lightning blade on Jack for upstaging everyone’s entrance, and exploded into a jackhammer pounding at the back of her skull by the time the gun had come into play. The only thing that kept Sloane from flopping down in a chair and groaning in agony was a stubborn refusal to allow any of these people see even the slightest crack in her veneer and the preemptive dose of extra strength aspirin she’d popped on the car ride here. She’d anticipated a number of terrible scenarios for this evening ever since Auri had called but witnessing someone being held at gunpoint had not been envisioned. Name calling, scab picking, dick swinging, fist flying, and a few rogue spells, a couple of bloody noses, some bruised egos? Absolutely. A missed opportunity finally coming together and eventually spiraling into a toxic relationship? Slim, but possible. The whole thing being a massive ruse by Father Wolf to get everyone together in one place to wipe them out and wipe them all out in a massacre? Not very likely, but she’d considered it. 

Somebody blowing someone’s brains out after they offered up their own gun? No, she hadn’t been stupid enough to consider it.

It had played out the best way possible—with the gun eventually taken out of play and whatever Kali had inside of his head in place of a brain still there. It was almost upsetting. Fancy for a moment an alternative ending: Everleigh grabs the gun with not intention to murder but every intention to showboat, Kali had been incorrect about a round not being chambered and the safety being on, her hand slips, he flinches too hard, an attempt to intervene goes array, and bang. At least in this scenario Everleigh learned that no amount of Kool-Aid poured from Sullivan’s Chalice would ever fix the leak in the middle of someone’s forehead and Kali would never needlessly share information, or anything, ever again. Instead, the way it had panned out would only further fuel the irresponsibility of the two. 

[i]Relax, nothing went wrong Karen. 

Yeah Sloane, don’t sweat it. It’s not like it matters if I’m killed, even though if I  do die it immediately burns everyone in the room and the full force of the FBI will be up everybody’s ass by breakfast.[/i]

Allegedly, anyway. 

The fluorescents were starting to hurt so bad that they were blinding. Sloane closed her eyes as she listened to Auri attempt to turn the meeting away from the dramatics. She focused in on the conversation, trying to ignore the sharp throb in her head, but becoming distracted when the pain mixed with something else. Something soothing. It was like the night tide had come in on a warm tropical breeze and pulled the migraine away into the Caribbean Sea. Sloane opened her eyes and hazarded a glance at Greyson. She saw him discard his Spirit Halloween priest costume, the same place Kali had picked up his badge perhaps, and shift back into the Corey Hart sleazebag she’d known as a teen. 

He wasn’t looking at her in the flower shop, too busy flirting with Eve and Kali, but she could feel him watching her stare out at the sea as pink tendrils caught her migraine and drowned it in the undertow. He’d stopped right at the edge of the boardwalk, blocked by a rope and a sign that said ‘Private Beach’, his hands occupied by a pair of tiki drinks topped with tiny colorful umbrellas. She could let him in. All she had to do was lift the rope. She wouldn’t have to be alone on her little beach. There could be someone with her who knew what she was feeling without her having to say or explain anything. Somebody who just got it. An instant connection without the struggle of heaving emotional baggage over conversational hurdles. Sloane was surprised by how strong of a temptation it was; she felt her mental self peek over her shoulder with an acknowledging look. 

[color=f4eb93]"Hey guys."[/color] The sea breeze died; her headache emerged on the crest of a tidal wave and crashed down on her. [color=f4eb93][i]"It's been a while, hasn't it?"[/i][/color]

As Greyson’s tendrils pushed back out he would no longer find his foot tapping on the boardwalk at the edge of her beach. He’d find that Sloane had disappeared behind the Iron Curtain and he was being roughly patted down at a security checkpoint with contraband in his pocket, spotlights and sniper scopes trained on him from the top of towers, with a razor-wire wall before him and nothing but a minefield and a killzone behind him, and a doberman growling at his crotch. No sign this time asking for privacy. It was clear enough that he’d fucked it. Back in the flower shop, Sloane slipped a card from out of her jacket and walked across the room with purpose. Her approach was covered by the arrival of Britney, the departure of Tayla, and Luca’s fumble.

Sloane was likely unnoticed until she emerged from the group to step between Greyson and Britney. Sloane didn’t welcome Britney, because she wasn’t. She didn’t acknowledge her with a look or a nod. She just turned her back, focused on Greyson. Sloane looked up at him, catching her reflection in his sunglasses. She didn’t appear angry or annoyed. She just looked bored, as if she was flipping through a catalog to choose which color of off-white paint she was going to pick solely just to watch it dry. Perhaps a little more tired than usual, too. In her right hand she held her Channeler, a faded and folded tarot card with the image of a woman sitting on a throne with a sword in her right hand and her left hand raised to receive. 

[color=Silver]“Do you still think we are a bunch of stupid children who have no clue what they are doing, Greyson, or is it you that hasn’t changed? I could see how a couple of us may have given you that impression,”[/color] she said without looking away from the glasses. Her voice was calm and measured, loud enough to be heard by the group but soft enough they’d have to strain if they wanted to catch it all. [color=silver]“Maybe you just felt left out. Everybody else was throwing magic around without care. Still. It doesn’t justify the choice you just made. You have another choice now Greyson. Two, actually.”[/color]

She held up one finger.

[color=silver]“Option one: you allow me to modify your Channeler so it breaks when you cast a spell on any of us currently present in the shop, the mark in a place so obvious that anyone could tell if you undo it.” [/color]

She held up a second finger.

[color=silver]“Option two: you explain to us what value there is to allow you to cast your spells on the group because, as far as I can tell, they have none."[/color]

She raised her left hand, mirroring the woman on the card, [color=silver]“Your choice.”[/color]