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@shireinc    ━━━    ❪B❫:           〃   This is a party,  they’re celebrating his death somewhere.  That’s what they did with my parents.   Everyone’s gunning for your title.   You’re fresh compared to the men who’ve been waiting out here forever.   Is there really anytime to mourn in the life we live?   ..  Sorry for your mom,  I heard a lot of good things about her.   〃
            
            
                       THE ORPHANS STAND IN SILENCE TOGETHER.    HIS WORDS MUST’VE BEEN INAPPROPRIATE FOR THE TIMES THEY WERE IN,   BUT WAS IT EVEN A FUNERAL ANYMORE?      […]     NO,  NOT REALLY.  IT WAS MORE OF A COMING OF AGE FOR LOUIS,   BRUCE HAS (BEEN) THROUGH IT.    PERHAPS HE’D LIKE THE TRUTH INSTEAD OF PEOPLING SHELTERING HIM.      INSTEAD,  BRUCE LEADS LOUIS AWAY.     TOO MANY PRYING EYES AND EARS,   THE MEDIA AND ALL.     THE SETTLE ON A NEAR BY BENCH,    A FIST DIGS FOR A LIGHTER.     TOSSING THE ETCHED DEVICE INTO HIS LAP.   MAYBE HE NEEDED A SMOKE TOO,   IT’S NOT SOMETHING HE WOULD EVER PRIDE HIMSELF TO DO BUT.    IT SEEMED FITTING.    WHO WANTS TO SMOKE ALONE ANYWAYS?    
            
            
            
                ❪B❫:           〃   For the stress, like you said.   Seems like smoking is a habit of yours, your index finger ends up twitching.    Oh.    Louis,  it’s okay not cry.   I’m not sure why everyone guilts people who don’t,  it just hasn’t hit for you yet.   But it will.   When it does,  have a good friend next to you.  A loved one.   Don’t do it alone,  even if you’re not ever  (truly)  alone because of the life we live.     〃   

@vengcent: ⠀(hah). a shame, yes..  [burying his own father seemed surreal. being a living rye, likely the only one, seemed surreal. louis rye clicks in his tongue, staring into the closed mahogany wooden casket of his father that he himself picked out. by day and day, louis resembles thomas more and more— and has interhited the burdens that weigh heavy on his shoulders.]  i—  [and how’s he supposed to respond? that his father left the seat of the rye crime syndicate empty, creating a power vacuum? louis wasn’t meant for the life of crime. his father discouraged it, himself. yet he’s thrusted into it with (surely) a target on his head from the other families.]  ‘m holdin’ up, really. stressed, but..  [a finger taps on the cigarette case in hand, gaze downcast. all this damn noise around them.]  bit loud for a funeral, yeah? it might as well be one of those parties you attend.  [a beat, attempting to muster a calm facade,]  would’ve been nice, though, if he left me instructions. if only he hadn't decided to drop dead on me like mama.

❛   i guess.   but you seem to be holding up better than me,   at least you didn’t run away from your city   (hah,  hah…)    my dad would’ve wanted me here.    beautiful service by the way,  it’s a real shame.       ❜            THE NEW SIN CITY ORPHANS,   RYES AND WAYNE.    BASKED IN A LIGHT DRIZZLE FROM CITY TONIGHT.    THEY’RE STAINED IN NOIR,  DRESSED IN THE FINEST.  IT’S IRONIC,   WHAT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A FUNERAL FEELS LIKE NEW YORK FASHION WEEK.   THE CASKET MUST BE THE MAIN EVENT.      THE LIGHTS ARE BLARING,   CAMERAS,   MEDIA AND NO DOUBT TABLOIDS THAT MOURN    (CELEBRATE)   THE DEATH OF THOMAS RYES.     WHEN BRUCE WAYNE GLANCES AT LOUIS RYES,   HE SOAKS IN THE SAME MELANCHOLY HE FELT DURING HIS PARENT’S DEATH.     a hand reaches out to steady his old friend,  squeezing at the fine material that’s etched and tailored to his very skin.   ❛   how are you holding up?  how do you feel?   tell me.   i don’t think anyone has asked you that all day.       ❜            

can you sing some more? please?

not like t—that, but.. you know. like, i’m literally not as easy as dan harrier says i am, you know? that’s a total lie. i’m more, like, a medium. whatever’s super normal on the merit of.. getting with–ness.