once a queen, always a queen

Difficult was not uncommon; he could handle difficult. However, it didn’t mean he liked it. Especially in such a situation, where questioning instructions was ill-advised, to say the least. He must remind himself to retain his cool. Most of all, to remember she wasn’t just a second grade member of the organisation whom he could scare off with a few choice angry words.

“Do you wanna stay and find out for yourself?” Sadly, his impulses were much stronger than mere reasoning. “Our men caught word from the NYPD, Ella. This isn’t a joke. Besides, you’ve already voted, and most of ours have as well. There’s nothing else to be done here.”  

Not for a moment does he diminish his pace, determined and swift to follow through with the exit route that had been previously agreed on. Their security detail circled in closely. With the delicate position the family was currently in, it was better to be cautious over things of this sort. In truth, he didn’t think the notion of a bomb being used against them was too far fetched. There had been worse things in his lifetime. “Ella, I’m not the police.” His tone is definitive, lacking any of the warmth from before. “Those people are not my concern, you are. I’m getting you out whether you like it or not. Now, are you gonna keep being difficult, or are you gonna let me take you to safety without complaints?”  

Truth be told Eleanor couldn't remember the last time she had seen Salvatore so on edge. Situations like this weren't exactly uncommon, but they also weren't exactly very public related, either. The last time this would've happened, however, Andrea would've been with her every step of the way. She supposed if she had to deal with this with anyone, it'd be Sal. Still, she found herself uncertain and concerned.

Ella knew it was just impulsive, knew that she was taking his words too literally. Even so, she still felt angered. "Okay, so I've done all I need to do, right? You're not treating me like I'm a person. I didn't just come here because that's what I was told to do and needed to do by any of you. I came here to support my family." She stopped herself before going any further. Clearly the situation had her flustered and she wondered how she managed to lose her cool.

"Yes, fine, lets go." She said, defeated. Ella knew she wouldn't win against him. If he had a job to do, he was going to do it. And right now she knew that his job was keeping her safe. Part of her wanted to warn everyone they passed, the feeling of guilt slowly coming over her. What if something actually happened? She didn't want to consider that possibility.

Her lack of resistance was certainly appreciated, the last thing anyone needed was yet another issue to be resolved. Salvatore watched dutifully as the woman made her way inside the booth, and ensured that one of their men was by her side as she performed her civic duty. While he waited, a man hurried inside the room, a look of despair on his face that did nothing to soothe the consigliere’s spirits.

The lackey passes on the message of a bomb threat within the court house. Admittedly, it was not a scenario they had specifically prepared for, but it did not render any of their safety measures useless. Salvatore sends the other man off with specific instructions to follow through with their evacuation plan. His attention snaps to the closed booth Ella had entered, patience now wearing incredibly thin while waiting the mere minutes it took for her to get out.

“No, we’re leaving.” He states, filled with conviction and an undeniable sense of urgency. The latter only furthered by his taking a hold of her arm, secure enough without any force, and guides them with hurried steps outside the room. While on their way, Sal mutters the explanation she is due. “I’ve just been told there’s threat of a bomb in the courthouse. We’re getting you out of here as quickly as possible.”

Eleanor was taken aback for a moment at his sternness. Sal was always very blunt, to the point, but he was always kind in his own way about it, at least to her. She could see the cogs in his head turning even before she finished his sentence. She knew something was wrong before he actually told her. And even then, it didn't quite register for a moment. Ella let him lead her some feet before she spoke.

"But it's just a threat, you don't even know for sure." She objected, still quietly. Ella wasn't objecting out of ignorance, but she wanted the situation investigated further before she was herded somewhere. "What about everyone else here?" She asked, her eyes pleading for some sort of answer, that she knew he really couldn't give him at the moment.

Taking a moment to get a bit of fresh air, Isabelle steppedout of the revolving door of Ralphio Kowalski’s skyscraper of an officebuilding and into the picketing throng crowding the streets below – more hostileshouts ringing out than joyous cheers. While to the cohort of undercover V.A.L.O.R.agents intermingled in the crowd she was Isabelle Vincent, cryptographer,today, to the world, she was Irene Volk, a mousy if not somewhat mysteriousexternal hire brought into the accounting firm tasked to calculate the resultsof the mayoral election oh-so conveniently the day of.  While the V.A.L.O.R. handlers had done theirbest to smooth her transition into the role – a simple background story,get-in-get-out sort of affair, she couldn’t help but feel that the room wasbreathing down her neck, no matter how hard she tried not to stand out – to gounseen among the calculators with their horn-rimmed glasses and overflowingledgers. What she needed was a smoke.

Admittedly, it was a bit out of character – Irene Volk was amodest, high-moraled Midwestern girl whose only vice was the occasional slip offiddlesticks or oh gosh darn – but the French-Canadian underneath needed todecompress from all the tension of anticipation that lingered upstairs. It wasbad business if Ralphio Kowalski won the keys to the kingdom back again, for hewas only a mere steward, conceived to hand them right over to the real kingpin,Lucca Genovese. Truth be told, Isabelle didn’t know how it was that Ralphio hadwon again and again, term after term for all these years, and was likely tocontinue to what with the way that civilians were ready to storm the streetsand raise hellfire against the wolf who had beguiled them with his sheep’s maskfor so long. Voter fraud was the only logical answer, and that was why Vincenthad decided to place her right in the middle of the action to see if she couldget an idea of just how crooked a campaign Kowalski was running. She was almostsure she’d turn up a Kowalski win again, but anything else she might unearthshe, admittedly, was a bit afraid to find out.

Pulling a pack of cigarettes from the small pocketbook thathung from her shoulder, she then fumbled around for her lighter, a cheap conveniencestore find she’d picked up during her last assignment, only to turn up empty. Fiddlesticks. She must have left it inthe pocket of one of her blazers back in her apartment. Mulling it over for asecond but ultimately feeling rather bold – a break from protocol – she leanedover to a figure nearby, “Excuse me? You wouldn’t happen to have a light, wouldyou?”

Eleanor didn't typically wonder off from the protection of the Genovese members, but she needed to breathe. Especially on this day. She was welled versed in the political world, but when it came to this new Genovese leadership, she felt lost. That was only worsened by her husbands continuously worsening condition. Overall, her day was already proving to be difficult. The cool autumn air was just what she needed to ease her mind and nerves. These days were always important, but it seemed this Election was even more so. Perhaps it was Lucca's day more than Ralphio's, as it mirrored his rise to the Genovese throne, and reflected his power through Ralphio's ultimate re-election win.

She leaned up against a wall, overlooking the crowd of protesters and bystanders as they walked along the streets of the city. It wasn't an odd site, but she would be lying if she said she wasn't surprised by the vast size of the crowd. Ella knew she'd only have a few moments to break away before she was pulled back inside to safety, but what was so safe about the Genovese family? Especially without Andrea physically by her side.

Ella pulled a square metal container out from her pocket and skillfully slid one of the cigarettes out from it's placement in there. She just as quickly put the container back in it's place and as she was about to light the cigarette, she heard a woman asking to borrow it. She then quickly lit hers and held out the lighter to the other. "Sure thing, you look like you need this as much as I do." She gave a friendly smile, gently blowing the smoke out towards the crowd in front of her. "Do you work in the courthouse?"

              The laugh that escaped from his lips was, perhaps, the most genuine one anyone had managed to coax out of him in a very long while — and that was saying something when talking about a man whose entire profession was based on lies. “Thank heavens for your kindness then. What would have I done if I had been forced to face your family and associates?” A metaphorical question, for he knew exactly what he would have done in that situation. It could go either of two ways: speaking his way out ( the most probable option ) or, much to their annoyance, getting some of the higher-ups involved and dealing with the pesky Genoveses like that. Make no mistake — New York was the Genovese family’s playground, but KGB’s was the entire world. And what was a mortal king compared to an immortal god?

              “That would be correct.” Alexei nodded and made a mental note to control his accent in future interactions with everyone. It rarely was a matter of life and death, but completing his missions would be easier if unwanted people didn’t comment on his accent all the time. When the woman leaned forward, Alexei mirrored her movement by leaning down — that way she would have to talk even less loudly. At her mention of their line of work and directness, however, he had to bite his lip to prevent a condescending chuckle from formulating and leaving his mouth. Maybe it worked in the mafia world, but there was very little room for directness in the field of espionage. But what would she, a mafiosa, know about spies? Perhaps he ought to not judge her for her ignorance.

              “That is where we unfortunately disagree, darling.” He whispered a fraction of a second before she pulled away so it might be that she missed his comment — not that it made any difference. Alexei took her offered hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Genovese.” He kissed her hand before he let go of it. “You can call me Alex.” He was her ally, but she was not his, so no need to give her unnecessary information. “Now,” he continued, offering the crook of his elbow to her, “Do you wish to vote immediately or would you like to take a moment to gather your thoughts?”

Eleanor raised her eyebrows at his laughter, but smiled back at him nonetheless. Perhaps her family wasn't so dangerous, or something to fear compared to his line of work. She didn't really mull on the subject any further. Normally, she was excellent at reading people, so the fact that he was a bit of a mystery, and clearly wanted to be, frustrated her a little.

"Hmm, well that doesn't sound like such fun, then." She mused with a shrug of her shoulders. "But I'm sure you do well to get things done, in your own way." A small smile played at her lips as he introduced himself and kissed her hand. Mrs. Genovese. Ella loved her title and in that moment she realized that she wouldn't have it much longer. Perhaps a while after she would get respect, well-wishes, and offers of support. But how long does any of that last? Widows are not exactly uncommon in their world.

Ella halted at his question and gave a small laugh, covering her mouth quickly afterwards. "Sorry, it's not funny. No, I've already thought it through, thank you." She admitted. As if I had much choice, right? She didn't match Kowalski's ideals in the least bit, and if she were to really vote on who she wanted, it'd be Hamilton. But for the family, that she wants to try so hard to help keep together especially in the time before her husband's death, she had to do what she was told. Ella hoped, however, her submissiveness in these times was not mistaken for ignorance on the political aspects of the situation.

"If you could, show me where I need to go, I'd appreciate it."

“So do I.” And he meant it. There were few things a man of his talents was deemed unable to do; Sal was the kind to usually found a way around, it’s what made him so good at his job. Yet there always were situations like these, things beyond his power ( or anyone’s, for that matter ), that brought in the unwelcome feeling of helplessness. Being useless did not suit him well.

Fortunately, there were still things well within his power. Matters of the family, things he was responsible for seeing through. The election, for one, was coming along well enough thanks to his watchful eye. And the question she poses, something under his jurisdiction, was something he could provide an answer to. Her frustrations were easy to understand, in her position he is sure he’d share them, but there was a time and place.

One last look around is given, for good measure, and then he places himself in front of her, hands resting on both her shoulder while holding her gaze. “This is not the place for the why, Ella. Just do what you have to do, alright? I promise I’ll tell you what you wanna know later.” He releases his hold of her, and offers a warm smile before indicating the voting booth with his eyes. Go on.

In that moment Ella realized she was slowly losing her touch. She always did so well to stay calm, cool, and collected. It seemed that part of herself was deteriorating along with her husband. While Sal was a friend and eased her, Andrea was her true comfort within the family. In troubling times it was she who was the voice of reason to her husband in closed quarters. She had his ear in every aspect of the business, even if he didn't always take her advice, he listened.

Now it was she who had to listen. She felt almost like a dog who had to heed its owners commands. Not that she was degraded in the least by the consigliere, but she was following orders without first a reason. While Sal's promise gave her some comfort, she was still hesitant in her mind.

"Alright." Ella said firmly, matching his gaze. Clearly not very satisfied with what he said, but arguing no further. She walked swiftly to the voting booth, and just for a moment her pen hovered over the box by Hamilton's name. She eyed the bodyguard next to her, who she knew had an eye on even if indirectly, quickly checked Ralphio's name, cast her ballot, and walked back over to Salvatore. "Should I stay? It seems the crowd is getting a more and more raucous out there."

An eyebrow rises at the question. Surely, she’d meant no harm by it, it must have been a mere bantering between friends, and yet he can’t bring himself to indulge in the topic any further. All he gives in response is a nod and a feigned smile. Not that he didn’t trust her, per se ( though in all honesty, there was no one is wasn’t even the least bit wary of ), but it was preferable to leave his feelings towards Lucca within the walls of his own mind.

It does nothing to lift his mood to learn about Andrea’s deteriorating condition. Though pain was nothing he would so openly show, it did weigh on his heart that the man who’d had such major a role in his upbringing was coming nearer to his end everyday. More than that, the shift in power did him no favours. Where he stood with Andrea was clear as day, he absolutely had the man’s trust. His son, on the other hand, was not so upfront about his feelings for Sal.

“I’m sorry.” He gives her shoulder a comforting squeeze. There was not much else in the form of comfort that he could give; Sal himself did not believe her husband had much longer to live. He’d began bracing for this end the minute Andrea had been admitted into the hospital. “Is there anything I can do for you? You know if you need, all you have to do is call.”

Salvatore would forever remain a mystery to Ella. His mind always seemed to be wondering at a million miles per hour and she could never tell exactly what he was thinking or how he felt about something because he always hid his expressions and tones so well to her. At least, she knew how he felt about her husband, and how his bad health seemed to weigh on him.

Ella nodded at his apology, appreciating the little comfort he could offer her. For him, she knew that was a big gesture, so she was thankful for it. "It's okay." She replied, with a small smile, hoping to ease his mind from yet another thing to worry about. "I know, and I appreciate that. I do. I wish there was something you could do." She admitted, truthfully.

"But theres nothing anyone can do." She added bluntly. When they found there way to the room where she would cast her ballot she turned to him. "I know what I'm supposed to do here." Ella spoke quietly. "But I'm still being left in the dark about why. Andrea always told me the why." Her husband didn't necessarily tell her all the details exactly, but she felt much more aware of what was going on when he was still conscious. Right now, she felt almost like an outsider.

“Good.” Though his concerns did fall onto her somewhat, his sole focus could not be on hisfriend. Sal’s gaze would rest on Ella just enough to ensure that she was truly unharmed, and soon would deviate to scan their surroundings just one more time. A glance is exchanged with the head of their security detail, shooting him a nod before returning his focus to present company.

At the mention of Lucca, Salvatore stiffens ever so slightly, a minimal alteration in his features that could hardly be noticed. “Not yet. He should be arriving soon.” At a time that wouldn’t inconvenience anyone, he hopes. “For now, our main concern is getting you in and out as safely as possible.” The raucous protesters outside were not keeping anyone’s spirits soothed.

Gently, he rests a hand on the woman’s back and begins to guide their way towards the room where the actual voting was taking place. “Come on, you’ve got a vote to cast.” Another bit of silent communication is exchanged between him and the security once they set on moving. “How’s he doing?” The consigliere asks in a mutter, knowing by this time she must have already paid her dutiful visit to the hospital.

Ella knew he couldn't stray from his task for more than a moment. The kindness he showed her, while appreciated, seemed always short lived behind the bigger picture. He was never mean to her, not once, actually, but he always seemed busy and she wished sometimes she could have her friend to talk to for more than just brief moments.

"Right." She murmured, allowing him to lead her where she would actually cast her vote. Surely, for Ralphio Kowalski, but she almost wondered what it would do to vote for Hamilton. While she may not always seem eye to eye with their new family leader, she knew Andrea would want her to try her best to get along with him, and do whats best for her family. "He sure likes to keep you on your toes, huh?" She asked him, speaking of Lucca. Part of her wondered exactly what Salvatore thought of the coming transition.

And all too soon that transition would be permanent. "Not good. Not good at all." She answered grimly. "They say he doesn't have much time left. He's beginning to deteriorate quickly, they say." They say. But what did they know? She wondered, almost angry that the Doctor's didn't hope for a miracle as she did. She did her best to rational her emotions, but the slightest tone of resentment coated her words. Eleanor kept a strong face, but it was hard to actually say the words aloud.

 The order had been clear as a glass of pure vodka: ensure everything went smoothly and things unfolded in the favor of the city’s ruling mafia family, the Genoveses. Their superiors hadn’t even bothered to explain their command much beyond that; they had permitted the use of whatever methods necessary and mentioned that it would further their agenda. What that meant, Alexei didn’t know exactly, but it was not his place to question it and, in truth, he didn’t care. It was a job no different from any other, so he was going to do it.

              However, so far this particular mission had proven to be uneventful. Not as a whole—protestors outside waging their silly wars provided a certain kind of entertainment—, but he, Alexei Filipov, was bored; and that was rarely, if ever, a promise of something positive rather than an omen of doom. His disinterested gaze flickered to the window, although, after the slightest of glances, he turned away again. If nothing were to happen soon, it seemed it would be up to him to stir a little trouble or scandalously abandon his post and find some pretty little thing to flirt.

              The sound of the doors of the courthouse opening interrupted his train of thought and his eyes snap up. A wide grin spread across his features as he recognized the woman. Eleanor Genovese, thankfully and unbeknownst to herself, presented an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone with her words. He could both do his job and engage in some harmless flirtations.

              “I’d say it’s not. It is happy hour somewhere, after all.” Alexei chuckled as he approached the woman. “I apologize if that was too forward of me,” he continued, his eyes cast down in faux shame, even as the smile remained, “But I couldn’t help but overhear your words.”

Eleanor was surprised at how different the inside of the courthouse looked. It was spacious, and quiet aside from hushed conversations. Compared to the chaos happening outside it was heavenly. Although she didn't expect a riot, she surely didn't expect to be as peaceful inside as it was.

Even so, she also didn't expect a response to her statement, although it wasn't exactly a joke. Perhaps the stress of the days event, and her husband's health, was finally starting to break her slowly. She knew she was strong, and would continue to be, but she was human after all. Her posture straightened and chin lifted slightly before she chose how to carefully response.

"I suppose that is true." She answered, with a small smile and friendly tone. "I'll let you off easy this time, but if any of my family or associates had heard you, you'd surely be in for it." Eleanor said this in a sing-song, joking manner, but there was certainly some truth behind it. "However, by your accent I assume I should consider you one of my allies today, correct?"

Eleanor then leaned slightly forward and lowered her voice. "But between you and me, in our line of work, being forward is almost a requirement. Beating around the bush doesn't get you anywhere." She then moved away from him slightly and stuck out her hand. "Eleanor Genovese. Call me Ella."

He’d been one of the very first to get there. It was in his interest to be one step ahead at all times, managing the small party of associates that were circling around the area. An order to give him warning when Mrs. Genovese arrived had been made promptly; not only did he aim for things to go as smoothly as possible, he took care of his own. Sal patiently awaited for the major players of the family to come through the doors, mind racing as he made note of the scene and people who were coming in and out of the court house. No detail was to be missed.

Quiet studies are put to a halt once a security guard approaches him, giving him the word he’d be wanting to hear. Quick, precise steps rush him to the main entrance, arriving just in time to catch her as she crosses the threshold. There is only the hint of a smile on his lips, enough for those who knew him to be aware of its sincerity. Fortunately, it was a select list she was part of.

“Hey.” He greets warmly, eyes shifting from the blonde to the crowd of shouting journalists left behind outside. A stark contrast to the calm within those walls. “How you doing? Everything alright?”

It was an enormous relief to see Salvatore Napolitano already there standing before her. She should have known he'd be here before anyone else. Andrea chose the best man to be consigliere, especially in times like these. Despite all that was going on with her husband, Ella felt happy to know she had Sal on her side no matter what might happen.

"I'm doing well, thank you." She answered, genuinely grateful he cared enough to ask. It never seemed that she was given the same Genovese treatment as everyone else because of the conflict that arose when she married Andrea. Although she was still the matriarch of the family, when Andrea's health declined, she found herself with less and less people on her side. However, Sal always stayed.

"So what exactly is our course of action here?" She asked, her voice lowered. "Has Lucca arrived yet?" Ella hated not having all the answers, but she hoped Sal wouldn't hold it against her for not knowing what exactly what happening this day.

Still, she knew business was important, and he would want her there today. She grabbed her clutch, put on her sunglasses, and exited the hospital. Eleanor entered one of the families cars with her driver, as well as bodyguard, at the wheel, and they drove to the courthouse.

The crowd was intimidating and she felt a bit nervous as the car was parked and her door was opened once again. She took a deep breath before exiting, surely knowing even before she was bombarded by photography flashes and reporters asking her questions that it would happen.

“No comment. I have no comment!” Eleanor exclaimed as she attempted to pass through to cast her vote. “Please let me do my civic duty like every other citizen.” Before I shove those cameras up your asses.. When she finally entered the courthouse and heard the sweet sound of near silence, she sighed with relief. “I wonder if it’s too early to get a drink after this.” She muttered under her breath.