these are the sins

"You’d think I could manage a simple box like this."

Brian Eno (via infamoussayings)

sad hours seem long.

Doe-eyed and quiet, Cécile had learned early on that she comes off as pretty innocent to most people - mysterious enough to be interesting, yet not enough to be a threat. Whether the young brunette had been quite curious by nature, or if she’d developed it from usually being so underestimated, she wasn’t completely sure, but Pietro definitely intrigued her - even if it wasn’t necessarily in a positive way. Cécile nodded and sat down on the leather seat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back a little. ”Grazie.” Her eyes moved to his for a second before she accepted the glass with a subtle smile, her fingers curling around the stem of the glass delicately. “That’s right, you didn’t.” The hint of a smirk formed on her face for a moment before she brought the glass to her lips for a sip, inviting a moment of silence before she looked at him again. “Are you here with anyone? Other than the little guy with the tail between his legs, I mean.”

"I was, yes, but they left. George--he was the last one to go. Everyone has a... problematic friend, eh?"

"Can’t take credit for it, but I’ll be sure to tell my parents." Cécile grinned slightly, still watching him with a bit of intrigue in her eyes. The man who stood in front of her now was a completely different one than the one she had walked in on, that was for sure. "I’m Italian - of course I do." The brunette raised an eyebrow and shot him an amused look before she closed the door behind her, taking it as an invitation to do so. 

"Risposta perfetta." Door closed, Pietro walked over to the private bar in the room he'd rented for the night. Just outside was the busy restaurant and bar. Busy was no good when dabbling in important business. The bottle of wine was already open from earlier, whereby he'd been waiting for the man to arrive for longer than originally expected. Pouring the liquid into two glasses, Pietro nodded at one of the large red-leather seats, encouraging his new guest to sit comfortably. As he handed her the drink, a warm smile on his lips, he resumed, "I didn't even ask if you were here with someone, Cécile."

"Don’t worry about it- I could’ve just minded my own business instead." Cécile watched the scolded man leave, not sure whether she should feel sorry for him, or expect a thank-you for saving him from the conversation. "Yeah, I thought so. I’m Cécile.. Beauchesne. Nice to meet you."

Pietro wouldn't justify the near threat she'd overheard just yet. There was no reason to unless curiosity drove her to ask questions she was better off not asking. Nonetheless, she didn't strike him as being curious to the extent of invading his business, which she'd made clear herself. "Cécile Beauchesne? That's a very beautiful name. The pleasure is all mine, eh?" Pietro offered her a smile and glanced at the door. "You like wine, Cécile?"  

"I’m sorry. It seems I wasn’t aware." Cécile bit the inside of her cheek, her eyes scanning the man’s face. "You’re Pietro Galli, aren’t you?"

"No problem. I'm sorry you had to walk in on an argument. That's never any good, is it?" There was no need to dismiss the man--he'd been quick enough to get out of sight the second Pietro had stopped speaking. Upon taking a deep breath, he examined the new face before him, memorising the neat features of the previously concerned woman. "Correct. And your name?"

"Yes, yes. Everything is alright. This is a private room, eh? I presume you weren't aware?" 

"I was gonna ask for one."

"Well, are you? Quite frankly, Laurenne, I'd love to hear you use the word please if you do go through with the question. In fact, I won't give you one unless you do."