curtains close.

hugo smiled softly and pressed one last kiss to her forehead - for now, he told himself despite knowing he wouldn’t hold himself to it - before flicking the butt of his cigarette out the open window. the police on the streets below hardly bothered him; for once, their hands were clean and they had nothing to worry about. it was the others running about that were the wild card and he had little desire to get caught between the two sides while virginia was with him. no matter how badly he wanted her that need didn’t outweigh his desire to keep her safe. 

“well,” he sighed, playing at solemnity despite the smirk tugging away at the corners of his mouth and the gleam in his eyes, “you know how i feel about a challenge.” he rarely met one he couldn’t conquer, but virginia was a challenge of a different kind. he had no desire to keep his hands to himself around her; he didn’t care if they bothered anyone. if they were so bothered, they could look the other way. the only chance he stood at keeping his hands to himself was for her to busy herself with everyone else gathered in the apartment and, tonight especially, he was loathe to let her go even to the opposite side of the room. “we’ll have to stay apart if we’re going to keep the girls happy.”

rising from the window sill, hugo gently tugged her after him and spun her about to the music playing til it was her back to his chest and his arms wrapped about her from behind. leaning down, his lips grazed against her ear. “are you sure that’s what you want?”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     IT WOULD BE A LIE to even suggest that keeping her hands to herself, to resist him, would be an easy task. Virginia knew, in no uncertain terms, that one of them would have to be locked out in the fray of the night for any chance of a separation to work. Co-existing within one space simply did not work; they were fated together, and no mortal manner could force refrain. 

     “So, you’ll rise to the occasion? Keep your hands to yourself? Allow me to slip into the crowd, conversate with strangers?” Ginny teased, knowing that even the thought made her want to hurl. Whenever he was beside her, it was as though she were dressed in chainmail. Nobody would be able to touch her, to cause her harm, to even think of a dreadful thought in her vicinity. Such a feeling of invincibility was surely dangerous, but what fun was life without a little danger? 

     Though she was rarely a fan of the art of dance, she made an extraordinary exception for Hugo. When they were on the floor, they simply were not dancing. It was more akin to making love. Foreplay to a sound. At least, that was how she preferred to think of it. Dancing without him was like walking in the sunshine without your shadow; practically impossible. His back, firm against her, lasted only long enough for a whisper in her ear. Smirk across her lips, Virginia spun out, allowing their roles to be reversed. “Are you up to the challenge, mon cheri?” Her voice was low, a nip in his ear lobe, a daring smile tight across her lips, before she moved away from him entirely, only her fingertips barely grazing his left shoulder. 

It takes every bit of the steel control Minerva had crafted from her work with the Vincelli for her to step herself from sending her cocktail companion a look that questions her intelligence and her sense. A kinder part of Minerva urges her to belief that her companion merely didn’t get the opportunity to get a good enough education to realize the sheer idiocy of her words. A keener part of her, however, notices the crisp pronunciation of her words that denotes the opposite. It’s quite the skill to have, to be able to enunciate things in such a manner befitting the fat cats, and one that takes experience. Experience she built over years, and that the dame next to her seems to have been born with.

“But there is such thing as a day that is out of the ordinary,” she simply states, choosing not to acknowledge the first part of that sentence to keep her own sanity and likely the peace. She notices the quick tension flying over the stranger’s shoulders, and while she is be more than entertained at the sight of such a quick temper, she would rather avoid an outright bar brawl when she needs to remain within the speakeasy’s boundaries for the next few hours.

“Rather cunning observation, my condolences serve you no purpose, give you no comfort, mean nothing to you,” Minerva agrees, eyes shining in amusement as she realizes that the young kitten had not understood the meaning behind her words. “You are meant to do nothing with my well wishes, I never expected anything else. After all, if you had lied about the bartender’s Hanky Panky not sufficing, you would have received nothing else. Due to your honesty, however, I am inclined to pay for your second drink.”

She laughs, shaking her head as she raises her El Presidente and takes another sip.

“I save my decorum for the courtroom, as I rather think those within an illicit establishment would find it rather dreadful.” More than that, decorum rather than cold harshness could be seen as a weakness amidst the sort of company she keeps. Politeness and grace are well suited for the courtroom, and even for meetings with the Vincelli. Incidentally, most of the time Minerva avoids being outright rude, there is simply something about the young blonde that makes it easy to pull at her strings. “Truly? I have been told rather the opposite in fact: that I look nothing like one.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     NO DOUBT WAS IN HER MIND that there was about to be a Shakespearian scene caused in the back of the Speakeasy. Given the events of the day, it worked somewhat in Virginia’s favour. They would certainly not be the talk of the town, maybe not even the talk of the hour. Fighting was hardly an uncommon past time, but given that they were not two men arguing about trivial testosterone-fuelled things, there was certain to be a few whispers.

     Internally, she weighed up the pros and cons of the situation, and perceived outcome. It would certainly be an unsavoury thing to occur, and she may break a nail, but perhaps removing the other from her high horse, and allowing the high emotions of the night to transpire in such a fashion, would allow her to feel more at ease. Plus, it would prove to anybody around that Virginia Hamilton was not to be trifled with. 

     “How can that possibly be, when ordinary does not exist?” She scoffed, allowing herself to truly dismiss the other as nothing more than a nuisance in her evening. Still, even flies had to be swatted every now and then. 

     The offer of paying for her additional drink struck Ginny by surprise. Was this an undercover operation? Was she about to be nailed? Though the tension in her shoulders dropped significantly, the suspicions of the blonde only rose. “I do not require more of your charity,” She spoke with an almost ease, as though it was not an attack, not an accusation that the other was attempting to make. Instead, it was a meagre comment, an attempt to see the reaction of her fellow ‘patron’. 

    “Hmm,” Ginny mused, desperate to chomp at the bit, inform the lawyer that it was likely not the only thing one would find to be dreadful about her. Still, she kept her mouth shot; an easy target was often easy for a reason, after all. Eyebrows furrowed as her glass became emptier and emptier. “What is a lawyer supposed to look like?” Though she hated to admit it, the other was right. She didn’t exactly look like a lawyer, nor would she have taken anybody of her profession to sit amongst them. 

no mind was paid to the partygoers overfilling the apartment. no mind was paid to the couple. it was as if virginia and he had sequestered themselves into a world of their own, leaving behind the partiers and the vincellis and the liquor and blood running freely throughout the streets of new orleans. it was the kind of world she deserved, a safe one where nothing bad could happen. it was the kind of world that would, before long, bore hugo endlessly. it was the kind of world virginia would abandon if he asked her to. 

he’d done so once already.

“you spoil me,” he breathed, voice teasing and light, against her lips as she kissed him. “i don’t care who knows it either.” if aurelie wouldn’t have him by the throat for it, he would have stolen virginia out of here and to her bedroom. the urge remained regardless as it was, in his experience, better to ask forgiveness than permission. hugo couldn’t recall a time he’d ever asked for forgiveness, not even from his brother. “but i’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you and i don’t think this is that kind of party, darling.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     TO BE SO BRUTALLY SEEN, in such a public place, should have had greater impact on the thief. There should have been ripples of shame, of hyper-awareness, regarding the intimate nature of the conversation and touch. Yet, in that department, Virginia was sorely lacking. She would hire a pilot and write his name in the sky, declare her love for him to all of New Orleans, beg God to rearrange the stars so that they would be a picture of his face, but even such declarations did not feel as though they were quite surmountable to the breadth of care, love and passion she had for him. 

     “I don’t believe there is a person left in Louisiana who doesn’t know that you are mine, that I am yours.” She smiled, proud to call herself his, to be associated with a man like him. The subtlety of such a primitive acknowledgement made her blush, the only thing that ever did. “No, I don’t believe the girls would approve of us turning their home into a brothel. It is still too dangerous to leave, mon amour. Can you contain yourself until the bobbies leave the streets?” More importantly, could she?

     THE EVENING WAS A DISASTER. In the chaos of gunfire, she had lost Hugo. In the refuge of the speakeasy, she had found herself acquainted with a simply deplorable woman. Nobody whom offered a sense of self, a sense of care for her well-being, appeared to be in sight. Virginia was alone. Utterly, wholly, alone. And, of course, at risk of being taken prisoner by a hard-faced John. The mere thought of such a fact made her squirm, and so solace had to be sought else where. Away from the cold streets, and far, far away from that shyster. 

     As though God himself had heard silent prayer, an all too familiar figure became apparent before her. Her best friend, her personal voice of reason, the woman in a storm that she had become accustomed to counting on. Anything which she hated to bother Hugo with, or anything regarding Hugo for such a matter, was always swiftly brought to the ear of Ms. Lottie Li. Whenever she had time to listen, of course. 

     “Have you lost your mind?” Despite the personal protection she was packing, Ginny kept her voice low, a harsh but well-meaning whisper. “Oh who am I kidding? We cannot lose what we do not have. Lottie, what on earth are you doing out here?”

marry me.

hugo caught the words before they can spill from his lips and become something he cannot take back - not because he didn’t want to marry her because he did, he realized and that in and of itself felt, at once, both a very strange and incredibly natural realization, but because he hadn’t prepared anything. because he hadn’t gotten her a ring, and any old ring wouldn’t do for virginia. he didn’t want it to feel like he was asking her to be with him forever on a whim, but because he had thought it through and she would know beyond a shadow of a doubt.

his forehead pressed to hers, palm cupping her soft pale face as his thumb traced over her cheekbone. “i love you, too.” a phrase only ever given to her no matter how many girls he’d left shipwrecked behind him, no matter how many times his brother bent over backwards and broke said back for him. she was the only person who’d ever awakened such a feeling - if it could even be described as only that because hugo knew feelings and whatever he felt for virginia felt so much bigger and all consuming than happiness or sadness or confusion had ever felt - within him. “maybe more than i should, but i don’t - i’m not scared of how i feel about you, virginia.”

he took a drag of his cigarette, using the nicotine to rein in the sudden frenetic energy he was filled with. he blew it out the window through his nostrils, tongue wetting his lips and leg bouncing slightly as a grin flickered across his mouth. “i never have been. you are my heart. you have it. all of it.” hugo’s eyes rose to meet hers again, steady and bright with sincerity. “you can do anything you like with it, but it’s yours. it always will be.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     IT WAS SPELLBINDING, the way in which he seemed to compliment her so perfectly. Had her father been alive, she certainly would have disapproved of her beau. Would have married her off to some rich man, where her life would be the simple duty of being the woman of the house. Hugo changed that. He was kind and endearing, yet simultaneously dangerous and exciting. Her first love. Her only love. Even now, despite the risks that only seemed to increase, there was no life after Hugo. There was only simple before and forever. 

     “Hugo, please,” His confession - even though she knew, or at least thought she knew how he felt - was overwhelming. Here they were, in a public place, and he was about to make her start blubbering like a little girl. Almost ironic, considering he never treated her like a little girl. Like a kid. No, she was an adult. She could handle the scary things, the curve balls that life threw their way. He understood her, mind, body and soul. 

     “And you mine, mon amour.” Hell, if he wanted it literally, she would rip it out of her chest right then and there, produce her beating heart and gift it to him for eternity. “What would there be to do?” Virginia teased slightly. “You have everything I have to give. From now, until we are dust.” He was everything that she had to give. Their heists, the money, the jewels, it was fun and excited but she’d give it all up in an instant to keep him. Being without him... the thought was merely too painful to bare. Not even Zeus could tear him away from her, come hell or high water. 

     With gentle touch, she placed a kiss upon his forehead. “Toujours,” she whispered, audible only for him. Another kiss, and she whispered once more. Virginia repeated the process numerously, each kiss in a slightly different place, before the final one rest upon his lips, their company be damned. “Toujours.” 

He liked to think he wasn’t stupid. After the chaos that was going on outside, he had retreated to the apartment, knowing that hiding amongst civilians would be smart. No one would suspect a thing, right? He was still trying to get the sweat off of his brows, hoping that the adrenaline would soon seep out of him. Wishful thinking. He’d probably be replaying this night in his head like a mad man. 

After being offered a drink, or rather, the extras, he gave her a nod. He was thirsty, after all. Violence gave him quite the parched throat. And what better way than to down a cocktail? “I’m not too keen on sour drinks,” He admitted, though he did take the cocktail from her hands. It was typical of him to express his dislike of something before taking it anyways. “I’ll be sure to return the favor,” If he remembered. “Did you happen to be there? When the shots were being fired? I hunkered down for cover, I have no idea what happened.” 

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     IT TOOK ALL SELF-CONTROL to not practically laugh in his face as he informed the photographer that he didn’t care for sour drinks. The idea of a man as brutish as him, sipping upon some pretty pink drink topped with a maraschino cherry was truly laughable. Still, she refrained, opting to listen to his barrage of questions. What was he, a button? She had avoided police intervention for too long now, and Virginia hadn’t consumed enough alcohol to start singing like a canary quite yet. 

     “Oh, I was around.” Lightly, the woman shrugged, perching herself upon the arm of the too occupied couch, across from him. “Is this your first night in New Orleans?” She questioned, taking a demure sip from her own drink. “Chicago lightnin’ ain’t too uncommon here, darlin’. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. It’ll stop givin’ you the heebie-jeebies soon enough.” 

—

in the week, hasim wouldn’t have thought to find himself seated comfortably among a colorful sea of acquaintances and strangers alike, much less in an apartment owned by no other than aurélie sun and nalini khuranna. although he doesn’t typically make a habit out of setting foot in places where he has no business being, he’s quite content with the way the day has played out for him.

others would surely beg to differ, but that’s neither here nor there.

though he must admit, while he didn’t expect to find some sort of fancy tea party when lottie li dropped him off, the speakeasy’s host does find himself surprised at the total mayhem he’s walked into: the decor alone should be dazzling enough, with the golden art deco molding on the walls and the loud music that just about manages to drown out the gunshots, but the real showstopper is the sheer amount of chaos that permeates the air; seen by none, yet felt by all.

it’s quite a powerful statement in its own right that the vincellis made.

amidst all of that, a woman in her mid-twenties has caught hasim’s eye. it’s not for the first time, although maybe not for reasons so easily explained. her hair is cut short and sleek against her head, with a spit curl on her forehead and she’s wearing a black dress with beading at the neck and hem which would, under normal circumstances, seem awfully dressy for daytime but this is the french quarter. everyone in this part of town with the coin to spare can be fashionable.  

giving her a quick once over, hasim instinctively knows she isn’t the type to present herself as anything less than. gesturing to the empty stool beside him, the man accepts the offered drink with a fluid movement of his hand. “you seem more the type of woman to appreciate a cigar,” he muses with a slight stretch to his lips after having taken a sip.  

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     SO MANY FACES IN THE CROWD that she simply failed to place names towards. After learning of the deep, dark underbelly that haunted the Louisiana streets, Virginia opted to keep her head down as much as she could. Of course, to some people, she was a member of that same darkness; the escapades with her lover not in the same vein as the crimes committed by the Vincelli’s, but severe enough they surely would have been sent to dance. Her nose, unless by substances that were far from holy, was clean. 

     There was one face that she placed with ease, though the name was still escaping her. Haseen? Haskim? Harris? It begun with a H, of that she was sure. Or was it a Ch. Maybe she was utterly off the mark and it was an M. This was knowledge she should have known, and her failure lead to disappointment of the worst kind; disappointment within herself. Maybe she could steal a glimpse at his wallet, surely a form of identification would be in there. Or some delightfully drunk attendee would call his name from across the room. 

     In an effort to be safer than sorry, Ginny perched herself in the seat beside him, resolving to simply avoid his name at all costs. Perhaps a slew of nicknames, pet names, would be endearing to him. At least she was able to place his face, though she would see if she could sneak a brief conversation with Lottie in the powder room; Lottie would definitely have the answer.

     “A cigar? Why sir, who do you take me for?” The smile upon her lips was coy -- while she had no affinity for them, she certainly had dabbled one, two, ten times within her life time. “Unless that was an offer, for which I graciously accept. We could call it payment for the drink; I would hate to be indebted to you. Heaven knows that you’ve the best drum in town.” 

The amusement remains as the younger woman sticks to her pride, above it all. It’s her youth, she surmises, a slight uptick to the corner of her lip as she lifts her signature cocktail and takes a delicate sip it as she measures her next words. Any other day, she would content herself with a superficial spar, nothing more and nothing more, but it is not an ordinary day. Far from it.

“Perhaps you should not assume what others would have thought based on your own misconceptions,” Minerva tells her delicately as she deposits her glass on the table and tilts her head to eye her curiously. “It’s an unusual day, and you are not running out of here with your tail between your legs like many others. Weak would be the last word I would use to describe you even if you accepted my concern.”

There is a fundamental belief to Minerva Robinson, the belief that accepting help is not weak, as long as the costs and benefits have been analyzed. The knowledge that small acts of kindness could change the world, if given freely. Of course, there were always those ready to take advantage of others but a keen mind would not have difficulty differing between those with hidden motives and those without.

“You would be awarded with my condolences, nothing more and nothing less. I might tend for kindness but not for feebleness,” there is a quiet bite to her tone, hidden beneath the continued friendliness of her behavior. The conversation is amusing, yes, but she is anything but an idiot. The stranger is not new to Knock Five Times, of that she is sure. There had been no hesitation to her step as she walked across the room, no fumbling at the new environment. No, she has been in Knock Five Times before, and she had been there enough to be comfortable with the illicit environment. If that is the case, then it is an easy next step to assume that she also enjoys the drinks.

“I am not behind the bar, chump,” she points out rather idly as she gestures at herself, sitting on the completely wrong side of the bar to be the bartender she assumed her to be. “As to what I do when not being confused for a bartender by a distracted looker… Well, you can say I practice the law, practically perfected it.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     THERE WAS AN ATTITUDE about her new companion that, had this been any other evening, Virginia might have admired. She was witty, quick, and undoubtedly could cut the photographer down to size with nothing more than a few choice words in her direction. This was not any other evening, however, and the entire interaction was beginning to leave a particularly sour taste in her mouth that not even the Hanky Panky could help soothe. 

     “They are not misconceptions. They are simply facts which are not yet true.” The breadth of bullshit that she was talking was surely something to be proud of, and if she stuck to her guns, they would be. “This is New Orleans, gal. There ain’t no such thing as a normal day.” With a slight disapproving shake of her head, Virginia sighed before draining her drink and promptly gesturing for another from the bartender. 

     A scoff, a laugh, and a head shake later, the woman turned in her seat, directly facing her opponent. “I care not for your condolences. What will condolences, sympathy, sorrow, get me? Oh so your heart will ache, but what can I do with heart ache? What can I do with your well wishes? They mean nothing to me.” The disapproving sneer came as she turned once again, now wishing that she had fled the place as soon as she failed to find her fella. 

     At the sound of chump, Virginia’s back straightened. No longer were they simply exchanging thinly veiled words. No, her new found friend had practically declared war. Virginia Hamilton was many things, but she was no coward. “Perhaps you should have been a bartender. You could have learned some decorum. Should have made you as a mouthpiece, and I don’t mean that as a line.” 

     Her second drink arrived, and her fingers tightened around the glass. One more interesting comment from the lawyer, and she might just be inclined to waste the pretty amber liquid all over the woman.

“good.” he hoped. another inhale and hugo smiled softly, warmly for her concern. “nothing to worry about.” 

virginia wouldn’t pry about eli any further than what hugo offered up and, for that, he was grateful. there were times he didn’t want to speak about his brother; there were times when eli frustrated him so endlessly that his temper - rare as it was - got the better of him and, often, he never knew when it would strike. he didn’t want it to now, didn’t want it to ever around virginia, lest she think he’d been hiding something so monstrously cruel from her all along. lest she think he would turn on her like that in either the near or distant future. he never would. never ever. but with all the poisonous lies lottie surely tried to fill her with, he wouldn’t give her something real to fret over. 

“i think they wouldn’t know what to do with a creature as beautiful as you. you’re the stuff of dreams, darling.” fishing his lighter out, hugo leaned across the short distance to light her cigarette. he kept his knee pressed lightly to hers, comforted by the touch of her body - no matter how slight - in ways that continuously surprised him. without her, he’d simply go mad. 

his gaze fell to the city streets below, the coarse barks of the officers drifting up to them through the opened window. were he alone and virginia safe at home, he would take to the streets himself - just to see what havoc had been wrought. but taking her out there on a night like tonight, when tensions were high as they were? putting her in danger like that? he would never. “we’ll stay. let them continue dreaming about you while i -” hugo leaned back to her, tipping her chin up to his so her lips could meet his in a soft kiss. “- can keep you all to myself.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     DESPITE THE CLAIM that there was nothing to worry about, Virginia would worry anyway. When it came to him, she always did. To try not to would simply be an exercise in futility. The only other person that came close to him, in her eyes, was Lottie, even though she knew how much the artist detested her beau. Matters of the heart were hard to dispute, however, so she resigned herself to ignoring that facet of their relationship. It wasn’t as though Lottie’s social circle was one that she necessarily approved of either. 

     “I shall worry nonetheless,” A fact that they both knew to be true, or at least she hoped that he did. That is what love is; worrying for another, shamelessly and fully. For a second, she considered continuing down the line of inquiry about Eli. Then, almost as quickly as the urge had manifested, she second-guessed herself and opted to keep her mouth shut. He would divulge as much as she had to know, in that she had to trust. 

     “Then you must come and help me escape,” His compliment - as did all of his sweet words - made her blush. They were over half a decade since their first meeting, but he still made the butterflies in the pit of her stomach come alive, the blood rush to her cheeks, and an adolescent desire for him burn. With her cigarette now lit, she paused for a long drag, studying his face as she did. Perhaps this was not the life that she had dreamed up for herself as a girl, but it was the life that she had become accustomed to, and a life that she would not trade for anything. 

     In a place like this, perhaps there should have been shame in a public display of affection. When it came to Hugo, however, Virginia knew no shame. Nobody else mattered - nobody else existed - outside of them. 

     “There is nowhere else I would rather be.” She breathed as they parted, and it was true. As long as they were together, nothing else in the world seemed to be of any importance. “I love you.” 

There is a swift sort of amusement coursing through her veins that Minerva does not bother hide, a twitch to her lips as the concern wipes from her face and the amusement blooms. Quick wit and sharp words, the perfect combination for what bode to be quite the interesting conversation. It’s an odd comfort, when her life revolved around having a silvertongue and a quick wit, when one would expect her to prefer simpler pleasures outside the courtroom. An odd comfort for an odd lawyer, but a comfort nonetheless. It’s the familiarity and habit, she supposes. The familiar cadence of a quick exchange of words helping Minerva calm her senses, driving her to fall back into the familiar patterns of the give and take of the courtroom rather than on the mild panic of being present in what by all accounts could be considered a battle ground.

The dame sure is bold, despite the conflict on their doorsteps, and Minerva has to grant her that. She is well aware she doesn’t paint an intimidating picture —  she is not meant to, she is meant to be a cherub, a welcoming sight rather than a terrifying one — but with shots raining just outside the door, most would have thought twice before accepting a drink from a stranger.

“You have a bite to you, don’t you?” She asks, the entertainment threading into her words like smooth silk as she flags one of the bartender on shift and nods at him in thanks as the Hanky Panky and an El Presidente cocktail are placed in front of their respective drinkers. “Unfortunately, I cannot make the drink as I am a patron, but I hope one made by our excellent bartender will suffice.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     EMBARRASSED, VIRGINIA TOOK THE SEAT to the stranger’s left. How unfortunate, that she should make such a school girl error and assume that the other was their bartender, as though she had not been here often enough to know them all. Still, Virginia offered no apology. She will not be made a fool of, no. It is her fault, for being unclear, for being so unassuming that she would blend in. She misguided Virginia, effectively lied to her by withholding information. This was not Virginia’s fault, nor would she be made to feel it was. 

     “If I did not, you would think me as weak.” Even if the buyer didn’t see her as weak, she would see herself as weak, and if there was one thing that Virginia Lucille Hamilton was not, it was weak. Unless, of course, in matters of the heart. For those, she was simply a beautiful fool. A victim of the whims, desires and wants of the organ. 

     “And should it not? What am I awarded in such a case?” Of course, she knows that the drink will be perfect. It will be exactly what she had ordered, exactly what she needed, to calm the nerves and settle her weary heart. Her eyes surveyed the room, clearly searching for her Hugo. Nowhere in the faces of fellow patrons did she find him, did she recognise them. He was not here. But that foolish, school girl heart of hers, obeyed her to keep sitting, waiting. He would burst through the door soon enough, of that she was sure. 

     A sip from the drink was taken, perfect, just as she knew it would be. “So, what do you do? When you are not impersonating bartenders, I mean.” 

.

Nalini had been preparing the leave for the night when the news had reached her - literally, shouted up to her where she lounged on her balcony, drink in hand, by those fleeing the sound of gunshots. All dressed up, and with nowhere to go, she had done the only thing that made sense: flung the front door open, and invited them up for a party. The gramophone in the corner was playing the latest records (a gift from Charlie, and one Nalini was not likely to return after their breakup). Slowly, the apartment filled with people looking for a safe haven, and their little gathering was in full swing, friends and strangers alike shuffling in.

A particularly rigorous Charlston sends her off the dancefloor, electing to skip the next few songs while she catches her breath. Or at least, that was the plan, until a glass is offered. She beams a smile, and takes the drink.

“Thank you so much, honey. This is just what I needed.” She raises it to her lips, takes a sip, and makes a face. “I don’t think I wanna know how strong yours is, you know. This is already enough alcohol to knock out a horse.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

      VIRGINIA WAS GRATEFUL for the refuge of the apartment, and it seemed only somewhat fitting that she donate a drink to the gracious host. Of course, it was a drink created using alcohol that she had found at the apartment, but that was besides the point. 

     “I’m no bartender, Nali.” The grimace across the other’s face had forced a small smile to appear on her own. More so from a tenderness, than from a place of mockery. “Would you like a sip? Might be all the inspiration you need to continue dancing.” She cared little for something like dancing; her feet would always ache, her hair would be out of place and more often than not she would step on a few dozen toes. Truthfully, her dancing was more aptly described as “flailing around,” and so to save herself the embarrassment of such a thing, finding her on a dance floor was a rare, rare feat. 

     “What had you planned to do tonight? Unless you orchestrated the drama on Bourbon Street to lure people into the apartment.” Virginia took a seat, her first break from standing in a few hours. It always made her feel so small, so overwhelmed when she was brought face-to-face with knee caps, purses and groins. At least if she was in conversation, she would fail to notice such things. 

Closed Starter for: @hollowghcsts​ Location: Bourbon Street TWs: guns

“Awful brave of you to be out in the open at a time like this.” Brave, or stupid? Vera hasn’t quite decided, but from what she knows of Virginia Hamilton, she is no fool. The same, perhaps, cannot be said of the company she keeps, but that is a conversation for another time. 

She lowers her gun, but does not holster it. It wouldn’t do to be caught unprepared - not out in the streets like this, in the midst of waging war. 

Virginia is a name she has known for a short while. A curious figure, one that in some ways, reminds Vera a lot of herself, with one crucial difference. Where Vera does not allow herself to be drawn into matters of the heart, Virginia drowns herself in them. How strange it must be, to have a heart. 

“Please tell me you are at least armed?”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     THE VOICE SURPRISED HER, her hand which clutched her purse tightened its grip. No weapon was drawn, but it was there. Ready. Not that Virginia ever had any intent to use the firearm, but it acted as a safety blanket, of sorts, when she was alone. 

     “Vera!” Her grip loosened significantly, knuckles no longer white. “You gave me a fright.” 

     Even though, for some, the Vincelli sister was the thing that went bump in the night, the creature skulking in the back ally, Ginny did not find herself to be a member of such a club. Friends was probably a long way from the description of the two, but they were friendly at least. And had certainly shared a drink or two.

     “Please, I’m no tomato.” She waved the clutch slightly at the other. “What are you doing in the shadows?” 

closed starter for @hollowghcsts Location: Knock Five Time Time: Friday, 12th September, 1924

The evening proceeds from the first shot, people getting used to the sound of violence in the distance and the staggered sound of gunfire. It has been nearly an hour since the first shot rang, and the few civilians unused to the violence had already fled, or were in the process of doing so. As much as she wishes to follow, to try and find a way home, Minerva knows police procedure. She knows Bourbon Street is likely closed and there is no escape, and being found in the street by a copper would make it impossible for her to do her job properly once things settle down.

For now, she stays within Knock Five Times, eyes sharp as she examines the room and makes sure she does not need to flee.

Minerva is at the bar when a young dish enters the speakeasy and heads for the seat next to her. There is something about the way she stands that seems ill-at-ease but not like the civilians that had flee, rather as if she is looking for someone that she simply cannot find. Curiosity and concern fill her, and although the logical part of her points out she cannot afford to be concerned for others, the emotional part of her reaches out. Hearing a stranger out will not cost her anything, but her time, and as she cannot leave, it is currently not worth as much as usual.

“Would you like a drink to settle your nerves, dear?”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     FOR ARGUABLY TOO LONG, Virginia had wandered Bourbon Street, desperate to find her love. Unexpected chaos of the evening had caused their separation, leaving her alone, scared and frantic in her quest. There was no Plan B for this, no remedy for what should happen in the event that shots be fired on their evening, that the street be shut down, that they lose one another. Panic had not arrived swiftly, but instead was drawn out, growing stronger with each passing moment. Was fate not supposed to reconnect them, as it had once brought them together? 

     Without knowledge of where he could be, she opts to head into the speakeasy. Even if the police were bothered with them tonight - which she prayed to a god which she didn’t believe in that they wouldn’t - she could at least have a drink or two before they cart her away. The air in their place of debauchery seemed to be absent, as eyes turned to her upon entry. A collective sigh of relief seemed to escape from the patrons; she was not here to arrest or murder, she was just another person, seeking liquid comfort, without a safe way to make it back home. 

     “My nerves are fine.” Vulnerability was a trait that read itself easily across Ginny’s face, a trait about herself that she loathed. Now was no time for vulnerability, for weakness. “But I’ll take that drink anyway. Hanky Panky, if ya know how to make it.” Her signature drink, and the only thing she could think of to dull the buzz of anxiety within. 

“i’m sorry.” losing virginia in the crowd hadn’t been his intention. in honesty, he’d thought she’d been right there with him - safe with him. he’d take a dozen bullets, a hundred even, before he ever let one hit her. if it sounded absurd, it was because no one understood what it was like to love someone so much you couldn’t stand to see anything befall them. the thought of something happening to her because he hadn’t kept a better grasp on her hand terrified him. had left his heart in his throat and buzzing numbness coursing through his body. it had been lottie, much to his chagrin, who’d mentioned seeing virginia head this way. lottie, who looked a touch too pleased to see he’d lost track of virginia. 

hugo pushed thoughts of her away, refusing to let her steal a further second of his attention from virginia. 

“i needed to check on my brother.” the thought occurred to him now, actually, that eli could be hurt or dead. he felt traces of the earlier tingling and took another puff on his cigarette to satiate it. it had only just disappeared a cigarette and a shot of whiskey ago, bolstered not by nicotine or liquor but by seeing virginia safe and sound and holding court in the center of the crowd flooding the apartment. he’d come in here to pull himself together even if he’d wanted to go to her immediately, even if just feeling the beat of her heart against his own would have done more to calm him than a thousand cigarettes and whiskeys. 

“the police didn’t bother you getting here, did they?” hugo reached up, smoothing a stray hair of hers back into place, before settling back against the window frame. “they’re still skulking about below.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     AS SOON AS THE APOLOGY left his lips, the tension within her spine fell away. Never did she doubt that his absence was something more than circumstance, a casualty of the fray, but the idea that he had been caught in the crossfire, clipped by a stray bullet, was one that had plagued her. Now, seeing him, whole and absent of blood, she realised just how concerned she had been for the wellbeing of her beloved. Even the mere thought of him being injured made her stomach churn, an anxiousness only experienced before the most dangerous of their heists. An anxiousness that, in recent months, had become more prevalent than the beginning of their escapades. She managed to subdue it, however, for the most part. By paying it menial attention, it would eventually go away. Or, at least, so Virginia hoped. 

     “How is he?” Ginny was careful to not press too much on the matter, for she did not belong in the midst of their familial details. Even if she was Hugo’s family, she was not Eli’s, and while cordial conversation was permitted, she didn’t feel right inserting herself like such. Instead, she resigned herself to the aftermath of their conversations, be it joy or sorrow. Still, for anything that it was worth, she didn’t mind Eli too much. He was better than the people that she was forced to call family - blood, marriage, or otherwise. 

     “No, no. I tried to find you in the speakeasy, and when things calmed slightly, I came here. What would they want with me anyway? I’m just a young photographer, a girl tryin’ to figure it all out.” A smirk appeared upon her lips, her head automatically tilting to lean into his touch. Virginia retrieved a cigarette from her purse, holding it against her lips, as she sat opposite him, still within arm’s length. As her eyes trailed to the streets below, she sighed. It felt as though it was getting worse. “They’ll be there all night. Shall we stay here, amour?” Even if she was desperate to stay at the apartment - she was more ambivalent than anything - if Hugo declined, decided to relocate, she’d follow him happily. He could go down to the River Styx, and she’d be right there beside him. “Light?” 

when: september 12 1924 where: aurélie & nalini’s apt, later who: @hollowghcsts

new orleans finest still prowl the streets below, hellbent either on finding the culprits of the earlier shooting or on appearing to give a shit at the very least. their determination to keep every single potential witness corralled until they can be questioned would be considered admirable by some. hugo finds it not only annoying but a waste of time. anyone who had spent more than a day in the french quarter knew who was behind it. knew better than to say anything about it to anyone wearing a badge, too. 

sneering, hugo exhaled cigarette smoke into the night air before turning from his seat on the open window ledge as virginia’s voice reached his ears. there you are. “here i am.” he smiled, head tipping up to hers as he pulled her close with one hand, fingers tracing the beading along the back of her dress. “what have i missed? besides you, of course.”

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

     WITHIN THE CHAOS OF IT ALL, Virginia had found herself stolen away from her beloved. The space beside her, often occupied by Mr. Hugo Brandt, had been left vacant, and she found herself seemingly lost in her city, for the first time in a long time. Somehow, despite growing up in New Orleans, it became an alien town to her without him. Crime felt more dangerous, strangers felt more threatening, her entire being felt as though half was missing. She was wandering around, without a left side to her body, before opting to seek refuge in a place that all but promised to stitch her pieces back together. 

     As it always was, her heart knew he was in the vicinity before her eyes landed upon him, the tug of the fate’s strings leading her back to him. In moments like these, where it felt as though the room of fellow safety seekers had disappeared, it was easy to forget the worry and words of doubt. “Nothing more than the usual debauchery,” the second drink of the evening had just begun to take affect, despite the fact she sipped on her third. “I don’t think half of the people here remember why we fled the street.” If they did, they were doing a convincing job of displaying otherwise. “Where did you go, my love? I was worried.”