Alba Mendez

Etienne had drank far too much, but he wasn’t worse off for it. His mood was merry, his bow tie hanging loose around his neck, a smile permanently etched on his cheeks. Inebriated as he is, though, he knows his limits. If he wants to last the remainder of the night, he needs to take a moment to cool off, to sober up, just a little, so that he might continue drinking.

He stumbles into the drawing room, the first place he can recall where he might find a quiet moment to himself - unfortunately for its current occupant. But she smiles, and Etienne returns it with one of his own. “No, no, don’t be sorry. It’s my own fault for swanning in unannounced.” He makes his way to the plush couch, lowering himself on to it with a plop. “Come for a little quiet, too?”

"I am happy that it is you, a familiar face. How are you, my friend?" Alba responded as she sat down next to him. The room was grander and far nicer of a meeting place than their usual places but it was nice to feel a bit more comfortable in such a grand place where Alba otherwise felt completely out of place.

"What brings you here?"

"then it seems it must be me who ought to be making apologies, if that's the case" connie says, hand going to his chest in a gesture of admitted misstep even as a too-clever mouth doesn't actually actualise any apology. instead, he turns his attention towards the shelves, steadily walking up to them, fingertips already reaching out to caress spines both well-worn and still yet rigid; frigid blue eyes scan over whatever titles he could read from aged cloth and boiled leather.

"That's alright, it happens to the best of us." Alba replied, kindly. She watched as the man walked up to the books and appeared to look at them with a calculated gaze. As if weighing up the weight of their value, maybe in knowledge or money, Alba wasn't sure. Alba took a second to think as he asked her a question.

"I was browsing as of first, I don't think I have ever been a home that has held this many books, only libraries." She replied.

"I did end up looking to see if I could find the latest Agatha Christie." She replied, blushing. "I've not had a chance to read it and was curious to read the back to know what it's all about."

He smiled as he gazed down at it, fingers tracing the book cover. There was a gentleness behind his eyes that he normally never showed at work, but alcohol and drama were a strong mix to bring down walls. "Il nome della rosa. The Name of the Rose. My favourite book; surprised it's still here."

"We don't need to leave." He finally offered her a question, and he paired it with a shrug.

"You're a free woman. If you want to leave, I'll help you. If you want to stay...well, we're not on duty. I just think it may be a tad unwise."

Alba felt her nerves triple under Bruno's intense gaze, but it only lasted a second as he conceded. When Bruno looked away, she felt herself let out a soft sigh. She followed his gaze as he transformed into a different version of himself in front of her eyes.

"I don't think I've heard of that one," Alba said softly, "What is it about?

Alba turned to look at the bookcase to see if there were any familiar titles. She had read many books from the school library but never had been able to own many books herself.

"Nothing illicit!" Her cheeks flushed due to nerves as she clasped her hands together as well.

"Um, I mean I was just feeling too overwhelmed in the main areas of the house. I thought I would just cool down here before heading home." She smiled, sheepishly.

The house walls felt familiar and alien all at once, and each time he brushed against the wallpaper, it felt like he was transported to another time. Maybe not a happier one, but...he had family back then.

The drawing room immediately came to mind as an escape. Even when he was young, it had a quiet serenity that he appreciated. Plus, Rosa Vincelli never liked to go in there, so it was a grateful hideout as well.

The policeman stepped in a hurry, not really looking in when he closed the door. But as he heard the voice echoing out, his head snapped to attention, eyes wide. Officer Mendez was the last person he expected here.

"Alba? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh officer," She cleared her throat as she looked at her feet and back up, nervously.

"I, um, I was invited..." She paused as she continued, "To the party, it was a bit loud so I came here and got distracted by the books."

Alba frowned at his statement, "Not safe?" She looked at him, as she pondered what he thought of himself in this situation but didn't feel comfortable enough to confront him with that. Instead, she said:

"So we should both leave?" She questions instead.

when he finally emerges from the lavatory , he loses all the nerve that he worked up in front of the mirror. jack was only now fully aware of the fact that he was in over his head : the vast display of vincelli wealth was enough to bring the nausea back. not too long ago , he was tending to simpler business at a bar on the lower eastside of manhattan. after having his sorry ass saved by the newest matriarch of the rueng legacy , good ol' jackaboy found himself engaged to her daughter and their engagement party is at the vincelli's mansion.

oh , if only mam could see me now.

immediately , jack reached for an arbitrary drink because for the moment : he didn't care who's it was or what it contained. glass in hand , he downed the contents and set it back down where it was. he grimaced , whatever it was it was not champagne. only then , did he make eye contact with the presumed owner of said drink.

She smiled back, softly. "That's quite alright, I think you did me a favour, actually. It was not that drinkable, as I'm sure you noticed."

She shook her head. "I honestly have no clue, the bartender here just made it for me and I would much rather prefer something else to drink." Alba said honestly as she looked around the room to see if anyone had noticed her. Outwardly, she seemed as shady as can be, which was quite a feat while surrounded by gangsters. But it was just the nerves, the constant thought she might see a fellow officer or, worse, a nosy member of the press ready to take a snap.