SUNLIGHT | JUICE ORTIZ

❦.♱ʚ eleven | and prayers ɞ♱.❦

THE SECOND CLAY SHOUTED "MAYANS!" AISLIN HAD GONE ON AUTO PILOT.

She didn't really remember much past that point. Juice had dashed out to the truck, not before stopping with Half-Sack, the two of them telling Aislin and the other girls they should get out of there. After that everything was just motion to Aislin. She had helped the girl who had thrown up, Daytona, off the floor and some time after that, her memory went cold once they were shoved into the basement of the club. Apparently, Susie had been worried about her. She heard an off comment to Jax about how Aislin had been so still that if she hadn't witnessed the rapid rise and fall of her chest, Susie would have thought she was dead. Aislin didn't remember that, she never did in instances such as this, and she thought that was for the best.
She'd ridden back with Jax, which seemed to make Susie's worry for her distill slightly. When they returned to TM, she walked back home in silence. Her mind wasn't a whirl as it usually was, it was quiet, and that scared her more than the actual sounds.

The office was dark as Aislin entered, she could see empty cans of soda left out from the days away. A nasty habit of Faith's, though Aislin was fine with cleaning them normally, her eyes just settled on them for now.

Faith. She thought solitarily, and soon after all her thoughts came back— normally they were an unintelligible tangle, but at the current moment they came quickly, whirring by like the bikes her family rode. Kip, Cherry. The club. The loyalty and disloyalty of it all at once. Her da. Her ma. Kerrianne, Oisin, SAMBEL, the crates, the smell of sea water. The rain. Her father's doorstep. The look in his eyes.

She leans back against a wall in the office, letting out a slow breath, her eyes shutting for a moment. In the black she could still hear her and picture her thoughts. The True IRA, the apartment she and her siblings lived in, devoid of their recently scarred father. The stairs. Sitting on the stairs with Oisin, listening to the shouts of her mother and him. Jimmy O'Phelan. His bloodhound like eyes, how that one night they flickered up the steps. He saw her. He saw Oisin. She could remember his face. She could remember sneaking away, hopping on Oisin's bike, a few SAMBEL prospects tailing them to make sure no one would follow as they tried to when he snuck out a few years before. The crates. The cramped feeling of being stuffed into one, the smell of metal and salt and the dampness—

She hadn't realized that her hand had come out, striking the empty cans, until she heard the aluminium clang to the floor loudly in a chorus. She jumped slightly, arm coming back, open palm curling into a fist. Her nails pressed into her palm, as if to remind her that she was here. She was real. She was in Charming.

The lights flicker on and her eyes dart to the door to the stairs of the apartment. Faith stands in the doorway, looking tired. Her raven hair pulled back in a slept in ponytail, an old band tee and pyjama bottoms partially eclipsed by a thick, fuzzy purple and black tiger print robe. She grimaces as the bright lights of the office flick on.

"Jesus, Paddy. You sure know how to make an entrance" she grumbles tiredly.

"Sorry" Aislin breathes, starting to pick up the cans "bumped into somethin' in the dark..." she lirs hastily, tossing the cans into the recycling before sitting down atop Faith's desk, feeling how clammy her palms had become and wiping them on her jeans.

"That's fine..." Faith replies, padding over, taking a seat beside her, a heavy silence between them. Aislin lets out a deep breath, her eyes trained on the floor. "You have a nice trip?" Faith asks.
"No." Aislin answers honestly, then cringes, rubbing a hand over her face "Yes? Maybe? I-I don't know. There were like, slips of good. On the drive mostly but the rest of it, I just..." she breathes.
"Woah, hey" Faith says, a little freaked out, her eyes widening in a bit of confusion. "Calm down. You're gonna like...give yourself an ulcer" she tries to reassure. She purses her lips before opening her desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and passing it to Aislin, who stares at it a moment, before managing a chuckle.