house of memories

Tolya let out a quiet chuckle. "Anyone can invent a faster way to kill one. Real creativity is designing a system where thousands disappear without noise. You needed a blade and a crowd. We built systems. Creativity, parasite, is when you industrialize inevitability.”

"Did you want something or did you come over to wax poetically about the good old days? If it's the latter I'm sure we can find a good retirement home for you. Or we can step outside if you wanted a more permanent solution."

@jeanpalfroix

Jean took a puff from his own cigarette without sparing a glance to Tolya. "And we used to guillotine people. Luckily, guns are much faster these days."

"Things were obviously different. Besides, you really didn't try back then, otherwise who knows, maybe I would have slipped up." She wouldn't have. It was enjoyable to see all those men trying to figure out what kind of women enjoyed what. This time round, it was fun to see the women do the same. "I don't ask."

"Suit yourself. You're missing out." Jean shrugged with a laugh. "Do I at least get to know what you're interested in bidding on? Or do I have to go look at the bids myself to find that out?"

@jeanpalfroix

"Where's the fun in that? I don't remember you having any mercy and telling me your date the last auction." Tormenting Elaina was too much fun, and too easy if he was being honest. "But really, if you want a weekend getaway with me, all you have to do is ask."

@jeanpalfroix

"You're handling being on the betting side of things well, I see." At least Leyla got points for creativity in strategy. Jean could respect that, rather than just asking him outright what his date was. "Where's the fun in that, Leyla? There's so many hot women here, how could I show just one favoritism?"

@jeanpalfroix Event: Valentine's Day 2026.

"I'm not a complete oaf. I do know how to dress for the occasion." The little boy who grew up in the suburbs of Paris would never believe the cost of the outfit he was wearing, but he'd fucking earned this. Even if Kathleen was determined to be her usual self about it. "More like everyone's becoming an old fuck. Don't worry, I'm an old dog who refuses to learn new tricks."

"Please." Leyla rolled her eyes, but her corners did lift into a smile. "As long as I'm not standing in the cold, then I'm fine." The idea of being stranded in the rain for this long made her shiver. At least Olivier did think of all these different possibilities. "I don't know? I mean, really, I am already intruding on your fun. So please, do not let me stop you on my account. Proceed as you would be, as if I'm not even here." She'd been around to Vixen enough times not to gawk at the girls dancing anymore. Some of them were also super nice. "Yes, gin. Always gin."

"You're crazy enough to agree to spend the rest of your life with Laurent. I'd say that makes you crazy enough to intrude on my fun." Not to mention Laurent would probably have his hide if Jean did anything but make Leyla feel welcome. The fact that she fit right in with them was an added bonus. It only took a moment to flag down a waitress and procure the gin before Jean poured two glasses and offered the first to Leyla. "How have you been, Leyla? It feels like it's been forever."

"I'm actually waiting for Fontaine." She said, as she looked around the dimly lit club. "He told me to meet him here, and he's already twenty minutes late. We were supposed to get drinks because there was..." He said there was stuff he wanted to talk about, but she didn't feel like he'd want others to know. Being a man and all that. "Guess I might as well get a drink while I'm at it. Or do you want me to move myself aaall the way over there so I wouldn't mess with all this sexual aura thing you've got going?"

"Well, somebody needs to remind Olivier that it's rude to keep a lady waiting." Was Jean really that surprised that Olivier was late? No. Was he surprised that Olivier was keeping Laurent's fiancée waiting? Just a little bit. "You're always welcome, Leyla. Where's the fun in banishing you all the way over there? So, what's your poison? Gin?"

The night had been calling. Apparently, there weren't enough cigarettes and broken spines to keep Théo's mind occupied. It's what had motivated the text. Now that he was here, sitting with Jean, Théodore still didn't know what exactly he had sought. He arched a brow to his friend, "Since when do I drool? I may be old, but I'm not senile," he chuckled, looking to the nearest waitress, "Pastis, s'il te plaît."

"I see some right now, right on the corner of your mouth, you old fart." Jean pointed to the corner of his own mouth, a laugh spread across his lips. "Now, are you going to tell me what's got you so worked up you texted me like I'm your baby mama, or do I need to ply you with more alcohol for that?"

Maria felt the tight knot in her shoulders ease the moment she recognised the voice. It could have been anyone she’d run into and that alone was enough to make her wary. “It’s okay, really,” she said, waving it off. After a brief pause, she added more quietly, “I’ve got a message from home.” She already knew she wouldn’t be able to put off calling them back forever.

"I take it from the look on your face that it wasn't a happy message?" Truth be told, Jean didn't know anything about Maria's family. As much as he wracked his brain, no memory of her talking about them surfaced. "Anything we can do to help?"

@mobscene-starters.tumblr.com Who: Open Where: IDFK. lol

"That's part of the atmosphere." It was almost like Delphine had never spent time with the other members of the French Organization before, which Jean knew with certainty was not the case. "Next time you suggest the bar then."

"You know, I never could understand the appeal of this place..."

"Ms. Rutherford, what an unexpected surprise. Please, make yourself comfortable." Jean's eyes remained fixed entirely on Lara as he grabbed a passing cocktail waitress by the arm. "Please, be a dear and bring your best bottle of vodka out for Ms. Rutherford. On me." A smile neither of them actually believed. "Forgive me, but Vixen doesn't have Russian vodka. I'm sure you understand."

"A drooling mess? As if you'd fucking attack me like that, knowing I have brain damage, you weapons grade bitch."

"Does it count as brain damage if you were like that before the gun shot? Sounds like a full recovery to me, you geriatric fuck."

@jeanpalfroix

@mobscene-starters Location: The Underground. (No, not the fight club part.) Date: 3/1/26.

Most days Jean wouldn't be caught dead in the Underground outside of fight club. Lingering on Lara Rutherford's territory was not something he relished, conducting business in her territory even less so. Yet, here he was, sitting and wondering what mistakes in his life led to this moment while sitting on a cognac he would never compliment out loud. Until his eyes landed on Nora Berkeley.

open: @mobscene-starters where: streets islington

Jean reached out to help steady Maria as she stepped back. "The all mine. I should have been paying more attention." A flash of a smile and he stepped back out of Maria's personal space. "But, what has you so distracted your mind's in the clouds?"