latch

There was a lot more to Emiliano than most people knew - it was part of who he was, not to hide it, but to have an entirely different image to outsiders. In many ways, he had a double life, very much like everyone that shared the world he had always existed in. His friendship with Francis was more attached to who they were than either of their jobs; a simple meeting due to Emiliano's connections to the Mayor and politicians that helped with permits and whatnot. "Cool," and it was, though it just looked like he was married, which in Emil's head that worked. Message delivered. "Long engagement then?"

Nico's nod came in final response, seeing no need to drag his reasoning out for looking into Pier 47. Sure, he had multiple and yet, what had already been spoken was enough. He knew, or more, was under the assumption that it came in no coincidence that the company had come up in conversation with Adrien Brooks. It was the reason why he thought his interest was exactly where it needed to be.

Emiliano knew exactly where every single name on the list of Pantheon accomplices would end up - not that he blamed Nico at all, given that a part of him was beginning to understand that no matter what they found out through all of them, that wouldn't be anywhere near enough to get to who they really wanted; whoever was leading the charge against all of them. It made sense for it was clear that the Pantheon may have underestimated them a little bit. A nod was all he gave to his boss, seeing as he had a job of his own to do with the information he gave him and Emiliano being Emiliano would dig deeper than just Hawthorne and find more, too. It was only a matter of time. It was useless to offer Nico his help since he assumed the other man knew he would be there if needed. "I'll keep in touch about Hawthorne." And by that, Emiliano meant he would call Nico once he had him, that way all Nico had to decide was show up if he wanted to.

Paranoia ran in their blood, or rather their psyche. Such was the life of an orphan, or in this case, three orphans. After losing both parents, a pair that seemed invincible, at a young age. It was engraved in Emiliano's brain to think of the worst possible outcome everywhere that he went, he had to remain focused, be able to predict situations that could harm his family like that fateful June night twenty years ago. The difference between the siblings laid on Santiago's lack of poker face. For a politician, he seemed to never hide anything - except for how he spent his free time. Which Emil knew included partying and drinking. He turned his head as his brother appeared, arching an eyebrow. "Is it gonna make you look like you want to be here?" He teased easily, clearly unbothered as he searched in his pockets and then something occurred to him, "Did you know Walmart has its own brand?"

location — the white party

After recent events that he did not care to bring back, somehow security had became tighter. Often executed by his soldiers just how many of them he had - everywhere. With business growing, the numbers were always in Emiliano's favor, something he knew was incredibly important for their family and the Mob. He didn't even have to tell them what the plan was, most times they knew exactly where to be and how to do what needed to be done. Dress codes though, that wasn't their forte. It was a miracle no one had showed up with a Mexico national team jersey to this party since it was right in the middle of the biggest soccer tournament in the world.

Who: @emildelcastillo Where: the white party

Emiliano eyed the shot for just a moment before taking it. Not that he didn't trust Dominic not to poison him, but rather he didn't want to know what on Earth he had put in it, actually. Instead of a double, it was probably a triple shot or something fraternity-like which is how the eldest del Castillo saw the other capo. "You better not drink this with salt and lime." Because that would just be embarrassing to do in front of a Mexican man. Emiliano didn't much care for weddings, which was part of the reason behind their elopement. Married life, however, seemed like it fit him entirely too well. "Trade? Make it a real party." He offered a blunt from the inside pocket of his white jacket in exchange for the shot, handing it to Dominic carelessly.

A small smile on his lips let her know he was more than content with her answer, for he had realized months ago that he wanted her around him at all times. With the recent loss for the Caravelli's, Emiliano's biggest concern had been to offer them any support they needed and wanted.He and Romeo weren't ever close, but they had been friends after so many years of working together. However, Emil's way of mourning wasn't often shown to others, there was too much to do and not enough time. Nostalgia was what often attacked him and instead of sadness, he was more pensive about Romeo's death. It felt strange to think about the other capo in past tense, made him wonder how long he had left, others around him too. His smile remained as she watched him, his own gaze traveling all over her face without any excuse other than his love for her.

It hadn't taken her to change into a pair of black linen pants and a sleeveless crimson blouse, each button worked through its place almost absently as she listened to him. By the time he appeared in the doorway, Miray was fastening the strap of the black YSL heel around her ankle, the slight shift in her balance bringing her shoulder lightly against the edge of the closet before her green eyes lifted to meet his. It was almost enough to make her forget that only minutes earlier she'd been trying to convince him to get back into bed with her. "Medellín isn't exactly a small city." She straightened, reaching past a row of jackets for the leather case resting at the back of the closet. "Does Sanchez happen to know where?"

As Emiliano took his shot, Sullivan gave a faint hum of approval, watched as the ball drop neatly into the hole. "How do you manage to get a hole in one every time?" The corners of his mouth lifted in amusement at the offer, as he rested both hands over top of his club. “Now that." He started. “Is what turns the impossible into a simple matter of administrative enthusiasm.” A brief chuckle slipped out of him then, but it faded almost as soon as the subject shifted to the Caravelli's. The change in him was slight, nearly imperceptible, except in the stillness that had come over him as his attention returned to the man in front of him. “As well as can be expected.” He answered at last, with a small shrug that seemed less dismissive than resigned, before stepping forward to line up his next shot. “Grief is such a peculiar houseguest.” His club tapped the ball lightly, and he watched it travel down the green before lifting his gaze once more. “It overstays its welcome, and all anyone can do is endure it." A truth that he knew Emiliano was more than familiar with than most. For a moment the silence between them lingered, as Sullivan stepped back. “The Caravelli's, it seems, have always had a gift for that.”

"I've only had this office since I was eighteen years old." Emiliano retorted, shrugging carelessly. He knew the entire building like the back of his hand, every single employee in all the floors included, along with everything that they did. It was something he had decided to do as just a child, to know about who worked for him. It was the same way that he ran the other side of the business; names, their families, their motivations if possible. He nodded at Sully's next words, a small frown on his face. "What is grief if not love outliving people's time on Earth." Emiliano let out gently. That was how he had learned to see his own mourning and loss. He, however, did not know what losing a sibling was like. In Emil's opinion, siblings were the people that you were supposed to never lose, to walk side by side with. He moved to take his turn again, thinking of switching the topic. "You think I should add a ping pong table here?"

What shifted beneath, bodies entwined and oblivious to the string being picked apart in a world that welcomed the underworld through its doors held no amount of allure to Luca. If anything, watching them from above, he pitied the naivety. And for those with the wherewithal to know better, he said a silent prayer that they'd find something better to waste their time on. They'd suffer less, and somewhere along the line, perhaps they'd understand what a life within it could truly cost. The death of a Caravelli - one he'd spent years with, felt like a cold spoon had lodged itself in his chest. Nothing close to grief filled his lungs, it wasn't his to hold, but loss nonetheless carved its name into the white of bone. A permanent reminder. "I'm sick of this shit," he responds in his usually rough timbre, though he lacks the bite of his anger. The ice in his glass has melted down, watered down the amber liquid enough to steal the bite of the liquor from feeling anything close to satisfying anymore. "Aren't you?" Drink swils around the glass, and be upends what remains and finished it off. "Remember what it's like to be like them?" The tilt of his chin towards the floor beneath them is the only gesture he offers.

Emiliano barely moved as the other man spoke up. See, all that Emiliano knew was exactly this - loss, fight, do better. He had only been allowed fifteen years of the luxury of not being in the organization that they were both a part of. He did not regret stepping up like he had, for he was who he was due to the circumstances that had shaped him. "I was never like them." He admitted with a small shrug. There was no pity or emotion tied to his words, just a fact. Not surprising coming from the capo. Looking away from the crowd below them, Emil's gaze scanned the nightclub in a few seconds. The crowds, the regulars, the VIP sections - all located where he had planned from day one, and then looked back at Luca. A death like Romeo's could shake up just about anyone; he was someone they saw almost everyday, and in Emiliano's case for as long as he could remember. He remained strong solely due to years of understanding that all he could do was move forward. "Think it's time we hit back, honestly. You know anything?" About Pantheon, that was. Or whoever was behind it.

"Santi," Emiliano shook his head lightly - a part of him would always wonder just how different the two of them could be when they were raised by the same people. Even if he knew that part of that issue come from Emiliano having to step up as way more than just being Santiago's older brother. "How well do you think a fifteen-year-old kid would know his parents?" It almost sounded like a joke, but it wasn't. Vicente and Angie had loved them, that was something that Emiliano would never doubt, but they ran the very same empire that he ran these days. They weren't perfect parents, but they were everything that Emil ever aspired to be.

His curiosity within the specific logistics company in question had been a separate path to the entity labelled pantheon. Or at least, it was for Nico. As far as he was assuming, Pier 47 had no current true connections to the group he held every intention of wiping from New York City. His nod came in acknowledgement, as well as finality, knowing that if Emiliano said he was to do something, it'd get done. Simple as. "If the MC have ties to this company, I want us to get on top of those, in case we need to." it was an idea for the future, see, if the reapers suddenly became a problem, Nico knowing he had power to aid prevention, was where he wanted to be.

That was almost protocol. Regardless of their daily operations, part of his role as a capo was to almost be able to tell the future. Something that had became incredibly hard to achieve since the Pantheon had arrived into town half a year ago - predicting their moves seemed impossible when they had no one to study. With a name for the company though, Emiliano could look into them, whoever they did business with. The Reapers were something he rarely thought of as competition wasn't a problem with them, their leader seemed to respect boundaries. "I'll find out whatever it is that they do for him, or anyone else."

Talking about his parents or what it meant to him had never been part of Emiliano's life. At fifteen, he stepped in ways that he wasn't even aware he had. It was now, two decades later, that the eldest del Castillo was slowly realizing his own loss and that of his siblings. Because it had meant way more than just the physical and emotional loss of Vicente and Angelina, but their childhood, teenage years. Emil had sacrificed a normal life to do so. His silence, well, that had been his way of who he thought he needed to become to to shoulder everything. Not something that he used as an excuse, but he was fully aware of what it had done to his and his siblings' relationship.