Drowning in the Darkness

Emilia: Sure, I will pick the place. I'll send you the address.

Emilia: Tomorrow at noon work?

Type: Reaction / Starter. @mobscene-starters​

Where:  87-135 Brompton Rd (Harrods)

Summary: Amélie is with the press / London Advocate outside at the tape line. She’s aware of the shootings and has been sent to gather information, interviews etc for TLA.

Something told her she shouldn’t have been there. 

And reality she didn’t want to be. Since the incident with Vincenzo when the shooting had taken place she’d been on edge to say the least. A simple crash on an item or a door slammed a little too hard had her jumping. She didn’t want to be anywhere near these, unfortunately, the popping of guns had her sucking in a panicked breath. Yet, her eyes lingered on the building she’d never been able to afford to do anything but browse in. She felt for those people terrified and stuck.

Something in the back of her mind screamed at Amélie — telling her to open her eyes. There was more to the story. She’d seen what had been put out, the reasons for this happening but her investigator brain was turning and the cogs in her mind at work. Think. Think. 

She simply shook her head pulling her camera forward snapping a few shots. 

She saw police cars arriving more of them coming through the barricade that kept the people away from what was an active crime scene — this was going to escalate, she believed but she still didn’t know, her furrowing brows pulling together. Where were these people now? The ones injured, stuck or preparing to rally together to take this riot to the next level. Had they figured out how to avoid being captured by the police? Eyes scanning her environment to try and figure out where she’d get what she needed. 

Yanking out her phone she only pressed one number before the phone was against her ear. The press was everywhere, clambering for the next story and Amélie needed to get something good to take back to Felicity. 

‘‘I know this is going to sound….absurd. How…I…’‘ She sighed, moving a little further from the crowd as she practically spun around on the spot taking in the surroundings and crowds. ‘‘Should I…y’know — try and get closer? Under the tape?’‘ She whispered into the phone. What the hell was she doing? In most situations she was but a deer in the headlights and sure she’d been pushing herself recently but this was injected herself into danger. 

‘‘I just think there’s a way I could potentially get….close enough.’‘

~

Despite her better judgement, Aria made her way towards the crowd. There was something about them that sparked her curiosity. Not to mention she couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone who needed - or was going to need - medical attention, and in those cases it was better that she was there than not. 

“I think you absolutely should not do that,” Aria said, shaking her head at the woman’s idea, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but that seems like an excellent way to get hurt.”

Emilia: Perfect, why don't we meet for lunch tomorrow?

Vincenzo: Like I was shot in the leg

Vincenzo: Does your sister in-law count as a new pain?

Vincenzo: Don't tell her I said that

Vincenzo: No new pain. Small spike in temp but I'm not feeling too bad

Aria: I won't tell Giordi I said that, I think we're starting to get along and I don't want to ruin it.

Giordana: Fair enough. Why can't you do both?

Giordana: And tell my brother to call me back.

Aria: Seems complicated for midnight.

Emilia: I hope you had a lovely holidays.

Emilia: I was wondering if you were free for lunch soon?

Aria: How are you feeling?

Giordana: Do you honestly think a five year old can tell the difference? He's not Gordon Ramsay.

Aria: So Michael overheard me and Frankie talking about toasting the New Year and has been asking every 10 minutes if it's time to make toast.

“So what do you think that Daddy would like for Christmas?” Aria asked Michael, smiling down at the boy whose hand was in hers. She hadn’t meant to get this behind in Christmas shopping. Her gifts for Michael and Frankie were already made and wrapped and under their small tree (as well as all of the toys that “Santa” got Michael being hidden under her bed) - but it had entirely slipped her mind that she needed to take Michael shopping for Frankie. But she truly loved how much the boy was excited for the trip, and to find something that he thought that Frankie would like. It was such a fun age, to see Michael really developing his empathy, to see him try to think about what Frankie would like. And Aria truly was grateful to see her son think so carefully. 

“Um...Spiderman!” Michael excitedly answered, as they walked down the street. They had just left Vespucci’s and while Aria had meant to go home, there were enough stores nearby that she couldn’t help but do the impromptu trip. 

“Spiderman? You really think he wants something Spiderman?” Aria laughed, enjoying the light in Michael’s eyes. The happiness and the innocence - it had been a year since they had moved to London and Michael truly had blossomed. However, while the boy answered, there was just a twinge that something was wrong - and Aria glanced back just to see if she could figure out what it was. 

“For now.” Gideon acknowledges with a tilt of his head. “… And if that changes?” Or ‘when’, he should say, because if being the son of a mobster has taught him anything all these years, it’s that the tide of war is constantly changing, and the sum of their allegiances with it. Where peace is profitable one year — it isn’t the next, as gangs begin to covet the goods of their neighbours. A story of human greed as old as time.

He wonders if Aria’s lived a life sheltered enough that she hasn’t yet seen it.

He wonders whether Aria buries her head in the sand to avoid seeing it. 

Either way, her next words are a surprise to him. “Frankie?” He echoes, movements stilling abruptly, hand mid-way to reaching for his glass. He listens to Aria’s heartfelt reasons for wanting to be his friend, listens and feels his own heart ache all the while as she verbalizes things they’ve never discussed but that he feels just as ardently as she does. Still, he can’t help the misgivings in his mind. Can’t help but wonder why an Italian mobster would coax his wife to reach out to a Rutherford, of all people.

“… And why would Frankie do that?”

~

“Because my husband, whether you believe it or not, is a good and supportive man,” Aria immediately answered, though she couldn’t help but take a long drink of water afterwards. Part of her felt like there were tears burning behind her eyes, and she wanted to keep them from falling. The last thing that she needed with this kind of a conversation was for the tears to fall. She knew that there was always a risk being friends with someone outside of the Sovrani - someone who was of a different mob altogether. “I know that the politics are strange, and the situation is less than ideal, but I truly doubt that Frankie would encourage this if anyone believed something would happen between your family and the Sovrani. But on top of that, I think another part of it is that I have trouble making friends, I always have. And between the move and having my family stay back home....it’s been a rough transition. A good one, but rough all the same. And I think that Frankie saw that you helped with that, the little that you did rippled through both Michael and me.” 

The sound that split the otherwise busy atmosphere of the cafe was something that caught Vinnie tightly, the muscle in his jaw working over time as he looked beyond company to see Aria. It wasn’t nearly a state he’d never witnessed her in, and yet neither one he enjoyed seeing at the best of times. It rattled something within his chest, and the memory of her father and the tolerance he’d carried with him had the Sovrani figure head rising from his chair and moving towards the counter. “Aria, caro,” the warmth of their mother tongue swept across his lesser lip as he listened to her explain the slight inconvenience that’d sent her over the edge. “Come, sit.” A gentle hand moves to hover just beyond her form, gesturing to the table he’s just come from before paying silently for the replacement drink and a slice of decadent cake. It’s only then that he returns, maneuvering his chair a little closer to her own as if to shield her from view of too many prying eyes, “Breathe, you’re alright. I daresay you’re probably at least the third person to burst into tears here if that’s any consolation. Something about caffeine and the weather, I’m sure.”

~

It was nice to see a familiar face - it happened so rarely in London that it was a relief just to see Vinnie. But it helped that he was gentle - so much gentler than she probably deserved after bursting into tears over a cup of coffee. But she appreciated the aura of care that came from him as she finally started to settle down. 

“I’m honestly not sure that makes me feel any better,” Aria sniffled, wiping her tears on the back of her hands, “but I think that mine’s mostly exhaustion? Or at least I hope that it is. I had a couple different surgeries today.” 

Her depression.

Yvonne, Gideon, Cece, Leyla.....OH WAIT SHE'S FRIENDS WITH THESE PEOPLE ALREADY