EVOLUTION

She does her best not to pay the photo much attention, eyes fixed instead on Luca. “Luca, come on.“ She hangs on the last word, teasing out the sound. A feline grin crawls along her lips, widening. “You could always underbid.” She doubted most of the people ready to bid actually intended on winning. It was about the story, the venture to the edges of one’s comfort zone. Her head lists, a thin arch cocked. “Might as well get the experience … And inflate the value while you’re at it.”

The fun part of auctions was supposed to be the ferocious battle, wasn’t it? "You’re really going to rob some poor collector of a good struggle?” She doubts he’ll bite. The shades of Luca she’d managed to glimpse never hinted at much of an ego. Pretending to chase didn’t hold any appeal.

•

He let a smirk find its way onto his lips, tugging at the corner while she spoke. “Mm, I suppose I could. But what happens if I’m stuck with a 100k painting? Are you going to split it with me? Shared custody?” Brow arched with amusement as he glanced around at the gallery, crawling with people who, collectively, were probably worth more than some small countries. “Ah yes, experience in driving up cost is definitely something I’m lacking. Don’t know how I’ve gotten this far in life without such a skill.” 

Open To: All

Location:  The Gagosian Galler

It’s not campaigning in the most blatant use of the word. She has no intention, no obligation, to schmooze or make nice with the familiar faces of New York’s elite, but her presence still had some of the invisible weight of an assignment. Visibility was everything. Absolutely imperative to the continued role her firm played: eloquent, aspirational, protectors of justice rather than harborers of destruction. 

For every ounce of controversy her work, her clients, garnered, she had to shine brighter, friendlier. And she’d drawn the shortest straw. “His work used to scare me, as a kid. Even his portrait pieces … All the colors, the shadows, felt so … Ruthless.” Her mother loved the baroque period, haunting their living room with the lower-end likes of Caravaggio, Poussin, Rouholamin. The smile she flashes to her newfound company is a smooth meld of warmth and tempered embarrassment, amusement. 

“will you be bidding?”

•

Annie was not particularly used to gentle conversations in most any regard. The majority of the times she talked to her clients, she was receiving information or relaying it. Clipped tones, quickly rushing to write down everything she’s hearing, and then (most of the time) not even a goodbye before she’s hung up on or the person leaves her presence. Thank God, she thinks, for her social life which isn’t as alive as it probably could be but certainly better than nothing and good for her social skills more or less. So she doesn’t absolutely lose it or anything like that.

The arrival of the man next to her, in a place where she very rarely ever had conversations with other people, in front of her Frida nonetheless, caught her a bit off guard. Her only visible flinch was a rapid blinking of her eyes for a moment before she took in what he said, still only looking at him out of the corner of her eyes. A small grin graced her features as she tilted her head to look at the painting a bit more closely. “She had just cut it. A fall out of the divorce, probably. Diego was a piece of fuckin’ work, apparently.” She figuratively bit her tongue, as she’d wanted to add on that he was also a bit of a hoe but what good is slutshaming the long since dead, anyways?

•

Luca canted his head to the side a bit, observing the painting for another beat as the woman provided an additional bit of information. “Well, I guess every artists needs their thing. Van Gogh had his ear, Frida her hair, you know?” He cast a quick glanced at the woman, eyes catching on her profile for a beat before returning to the painting and then, to the gallery beyond the one they were occupying. His mark hadn’t left just yet, too busy observing another painting. Good.

“If words hurt you, reconsider your line of work,” Tetsuya replies, not entirely absent the humour as it would be with anyone else; otherwise cold – like the computers that he spends so much time with. Luca gets an ounce of something else, coaxed forward by the soundless understanding that they share. It’s never needed to be more than that, not absent it’s potency; the volatility that could surface between the two men if ever there needed to be force exerted. There hasn’t – not with malicious intent in the time they’ve known one another, but Miyazaki remains aware that whilst their practices differ; his not as militant as Luca’s, there’s the briefest of crossovers where discipline is involved. So very brief. It’s blunt when he says: “I am sure you’d find a way,”

He’s more than convinced the other man would – and is more than capable of giving a better jibe than the one provided.

“If I said no, would it matter?” that’s the hacker’s equivalent to a joke; a kind of back and forth that’s still as controlled as ever, but implies there is something more beyond the impassiveness. Head tilted, Miyazaki only takes a moment before he turns and leads the other to his office door, doesn’t intend to wait for a response when it’s evident that whilst he’d certain Luca would respect if he were truly busy – the fact of the matter is, Akina is perfectly capable of closing the class for him whilst the hacker takes care of business. Tetsu doesn’t turn back to the other when he decides to add: “Watching is equally as powerful, that is how you learn your opponents style – their technique; weaknesses,”

And the door ahead of him opens with a twist of the handle, like clockwork when Tetsuya makes route for his desk. “So, Luca,” a beat, isn’t ignorant to the purpose that the man’s there for, but can’t help himself but to enact lessons to all – deciphers their worthiness in silence with each carefully put together question: “Have you learned anything?”

•

“What if they’re the only thing that hurt me?” He snickered, as if fists and blades and bullets couldn’t touch him. They hadn’t yet. Not in any fatal sense at least. Clearly. He fell in step beside Tetsu, eyes glancing around the space as others moved toward the exit, gym bags in tow as he headed towards the office his companion indicated to. Luca smiled, tipping his head to the side in acknowledgment of the statement. A compliment, really, if Tetsu ever gave them out. “Maybe one day we’ll find out.”

Luca had stayed alive as long as he had due to the fact that he did what he knew, and he did it exceptionally well. He wasn’t opposed learning new tricks but he never forgot old ones, practicing and perfecting until they were second nature. He was calculating, weighing options against results and every time, doing what he did best was the better option. “It might...if you meant it.” Instead of saying it to nettle the hitman.

He tucked hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, smirking at the question posed. “Just that I’d want Akina in my corner if shit every went south.” Wry smile on his lips as he complimented Tetsu’s employee rather than Tetsu himself. “But, since I’m not all that concerned with learning much else today –– maybe we can get down to business” He was never one to beat around the bush where colleagues were concerned. He dug out a folded piece of paper, tossing it onto the desk in front of the other man. 

“A… meme.” Even the word sounds foreign on his tongue — let alone the concept. “Thank you. I’ll let my team know… they could make… a meme.” 

Perhaps not what Julian would have expected out of the man, a known bodyguard as far as his connection to Nicholas is concerned. Nevertheless, it’s accurate — probably far too much so, for Julian’s liking.

“Oh, I could never pull it off. Some years ago, perhaps. But if I got any votes, they’d certainly be out of pity.” Julian goes back to his drink then, a fading grin, still pondering on the new company. “You’re Rosellini’s man — am I right in that assumption?”

•

Luca shrugged, only knowing about them because of his employer’s kids, having sat in the front of a car more than once with them babbling about them in the back. And now he was suggesting one. He supposed they were effective after all. 

He snickered at that, twisting his glass on the bar top, “I’ll try not to take offense to that,” though he knew none was intended. If he’d cared about offense anyway, he wouldn’t have brought it up. “Is there anything wrong with pity votes, though? Besides their lack of conviction.” Which made them easily bought and turned. 

She hadn’t realised how hungry she was until he’d given her the macaroons, and she quickly finished the one she’d been eating. “Hm, I’ll try to,” she raised an eyebrow, “Equally, though, you could try not to piss me off.” In truth, she didn’t consider Luca someone who pissed her off at all, but it was more fun not to let him know that. 

“Well, thank you for the visit, then. And thank you even more for the gift.” She picked a purple-coloured one out of the box, hoping it was blueberry. She took a bite, and hummed happily. “Did you get any sleep?” There was an edge of concern to her voice, something Audra could never quite control. “That’s a complicated question, Luca, do you find diaries of medieval priests interesting?” 

•

“Eh,” he was grinning though, “that seems like a lot of effort.” The tone of his voice betrayed his own amusement, though, as he stretched his legs out in front of him, grabbing another macaroon from the box. He didn’t have a sweet tooth but he couldn’t stop eating them either. A catch 22 if there ever was one. 

Tell me how your muse describes my muse to other people

and my muse will react to that description.

Send me ‘HC’ + a word and I’ll tell you a headcanon about my muse(s) based on it.

audrasmythe​:

lorelei-reynard​:

antonmoretti​:​

“We’re talking massive tits.” Anton emphasized for effect. “As in they defy the laws of physics.”

It didn’t bother Anton in the least that Lee was stalling the meeting, it was completely his MO. And anything Lee needed debriefed on with things on his end, usually didn’t involve every known Syndicate affiliate. Either way, Anton wasn’t worried. “Not a Kardashian. You’re something worse.” He told Luca. “You’re Canada’s biggest shame.” 

“As for this meeting,” He glanced in the direction of Lorelei and Audra, scrutinizing them both. “I’ve got something we can discuss. One-eyed fuck.” He didn’t know his goddamned name, but he was fully planning on making him pay. “This motherfucker nearly shivved me to death in the fucking street. He needs to pay. You.” He nodded to Audra. “Draw up the death certificate. And you.” He turned to Lorelei. “Get a tiny coffin ready. Very tiny. I’m going to carve out his other fucking eyeball and bury it, while playing the world’s tiniest violin at the funeral for his dumb fucking eye.” 

@lorelei-reynard​

“Gladly, my lord,” she said looking at Anton. “As long as you meet my terms, You know there’s a price to pay.” It wasn’t like they asked for he services and she said yes. The price was always different since not all the…”jobs.” where of the same height, weight and gender. You also had to take into account the way they had left this world. 

Lorelei stood up from the couch she was sitting on to walk to a table that had some glasses and bottles. She poured herself some whiskey and took a sip before walking behind Anton and put her hand on his shoulder. “Unless you want to discuss the price in private,” she whispered against his ear. “Anyone wants something to drink?” she asked out loud. “You, dear?” she smiled at Audra. 

She let out a burst of laughter as Lee revealed the name on her post-it note. Pulling it off, she admired the words for a moment. She knew none of them cared, but if they were going to give her history-based names, they were bloody well going to get history facts. “Did you know that, contrary to popular belief, Rasputin never actually slept with the Tsar’s wife. Nicholas and Alexandra were actually deeply in love.” Chuckling, she added, “That doesn’t mean his penis wasn’t massive, though.” 

The vibe of the room had quickly changed, and she nodded sharply in response to Anton. “Please don’t take this as me questioning you, because I’m not.” Her voice was calm, eyes on the notebook as she wrote down the details he’d specified. “Can this be solved any way other than blinding a man?” She was very carefully not looking at Lee. Thankful the distraction, she glanced up at Lorelei. “A glass of water would be nice, love. Thank you.”

—

“I’d say the man who looks like the personification of a drought is pro’ly used to getting ditched.”

Singer. Massive tits. Huge. Earth-sized, with its own gravitational pull. The conversation slows to a break, as Lee works though the knocker-files in his mind. 

Although it’s known that Fletcher likes to cause trouble, his introduction to the talk of this circle is unexpected — and Lee’s face, ever expressive, gives away such incredulity. With such big fish to fry, and they’re going for the bacteria at the bottom of the sea.

And the plan, too. If Lee rolls his eyes farther back into his head, he might just match their target well. 

“This isn’t a Billie Eilish single, mate,” he says to Anton. “So get your own M.O., copycat.” 

It’s not as though Lee doesn’t fantasize about such a fate; they’re even darker still, in the narratives he himself spins inside his head. But it’s personal; and all that’s personal, stays on the other side of these walls. 

Right now, all he can think is, he should have buried that knife deeper. 

“You don’t say,” he eyes Audra with a certain interest, arms crossed as he nods along the story. “That’s fantastic. Love wins, everybody.” 

“Speaking of massive penises— Am I Dolly fucking Parton?” 

•

His eyes caught the lighter and they immediately lit up. He was happy to at least get his smoking fix in before the time came for him to bash another dude’s head in. “Sometimes I just have to come out here for some fresh air cause there’s too much personality in there at once.” And a whole lot of angry people if they lost. “If you’re second guessing me then maybe you did,” He didn’t care who believed in him and who didn’t cause at the end of the day when he was the final one standing, that’s what mattered to him. “If you wanna make even more of a fool of yourself then go ahead and bet on the other guy instead. Might look bad to not back a fellow member too.”  

•

Luca watched as the younger man lit up, leaning against the side of the building and scoffed at his words. “Don’t you mean too much personality in the goddamn city?” Those who stuck around usually didn’t mind –– could get used to it if they had to. But he could understand where Liam was coming from. The Aréne tended to get...excessive. And if he was gearing up to fight, it made sense to enjoy some calm before the storm. “The politics of who backs whom doesn’t bother me as long as they get the job done.” 

“You got arms? And legs? Open it your fucking self.” He said, flicking the remainder of his cigarette to the curb, proceeding to open it for him anyway. “Who’ve you got your scope on now? Because I got one more name to add to that little hit list of yours if you can work it in. When I get the name.” He said, his mind venturing to Fletcher. Though it was more prudent to send that warning first. This ask would mostly be a favor to him, and seeing as Anton wasn’t the one coordinating Luca’s hits he wasn’t keen on having this one officially on the books. “Mostly asking as a friend. But might send Liam on this one first. Get a little boxing practice in.”

•

Luca scoffed at Anton’s words, brushing past the other man on his way in. “You’ll never find a wife with an attitude like that, Moretti,” he jested at his friend. They’d known each other since they were children and despite the time since falling out of contact, it seemed little had changed. “Think you’ll get that name anytime in this century? Who’re you waiting on for confirmation?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder as he strolled into HQ. “Getting info on another mark today. Details need to know.” 

Even whilst he remains vigilant to his students; watches Akina lead the class, he’s even more aware of a figure that stands equally as imposing near the entrance – though here, Tetsuya would still treat the other as he would anyone in his domain; a student, doesn’t impede any thoughts that he would have his friend’s spinal column cracked if he wanted to try his skills out in an environment encouraging of it; the hacker has done worse than for less than that. Luca’s at least respectful; patient, a quality that Miyazaki appreciates as a practiced discipline that’s often hard trained into a person.

But then, Tetsuya’s very aware that Luca is not just a gakusei despite being in the dojo. Business within a business, also comes with a tongue that moves a little faster than Tetsu cares for. He addresses another student directly, doesn’t spare a glance to acknowledge Luca yet – but both men know that they’re aware of the other and the capabilities that lie volatile under flesh and bone. The student, again, falls, slams like a brick to the ground and a new wave of silence splits the room in half – Akina at the front breaks it with a crack of her own discipline when Tetsuya makes his way back, eyes glaze over Luca when he approaches.

The only tell of his amusement is the inch of his lip in the corner, his palms brushing once over each other like he might remove the touch of how powerful they could be; on a keyboard; against skin; on Luca’s tongue if there deemed a moment fit enough for it.

Testuya glances back at the line of his class, tips his head as if to muse over his words, leaves a somewhat comfortable pause between his friend’s comment and the one he plans to give. He’s almost sure that Luc knows his thoughts – but wouldn’t want to offer the other credit where it isn’t due, not too much; it’s earned, as with respect.

The hacker’s head swivels back when Akina dismisses the class; a chorus of arigatou gozaimashita echoes and there’s less than light footsteps moving with some urgency to gather their belongings like children in a classroom; the kind that might one day break the neck of an assaulter, that’s how Tetsuya views the potential for violence for most of them, others, he’s sure he can read mal-intent in their eyes when he stares them down; wonders if they’ll be the one day sick minded individuals doing the assaulting.

He cannot plan for that, only prepare; creates the best and the saving grace of every side of the coin remains to be that discipline will overrule all wasteful use of the teachings.

“And yet, I would watch one of them shiage you,” it’s honest – how the hacker makes a point that one day one of his student may themselves be sensei and he would have faith in their ability to have more skill than Luca in front of him does now. By then even, both men may already be dead; so never truly a concern or threat to be seen to light. Doesn’t much sate the interest Tetsuya may have to see Luca fall to the art, since his mouth likes to be more a weapon of annoyance than anything else.

Perhaps that’s a quiet factor in why Tetsu likes the man; he’s a challenger that could be squashed by the confidence he himself has in the his own ability; one could break the other with one hand if ever time required it.

The dojo quietens when most of the students leave, offer Tetsuya bows before they vanish through the door into the night. And with this quiet humour, the younger man makes a remark he’s sure he’s said on numerous occasions – repeats himself (a quality exclusive to those he likes.) once more: “Take a class, Luca,” You might learn something. Unsaid: but easily readable in Tetsuya’s tone. Imagines that instead, he’ll receive an answer to why the older man had wanted to meet; made an appearance earlier than planned if nothing else.

•

Luca watched as the class was dismissed by Tetsu’s assistant teacher, watching the way their feet drew together, their hands at their side against pristine white uniforms, the perpendicular angle at which they bowed –– he could see the appeal.  The marines had been different, that went without saying, but there was something familiar about it. The uniformity. The precision even in those who seemed younger than the majority of class. The skill that could be taught and the talent that couldn’t. 

He smirked at his colleague’s words, brow arched in slight amusement as he shrugged, “Hurtful but not entirely unexpected.” There was an understated respect that went between them –– the type of understanding that said they knew what the other could do....might do and they could appreciate it even if they didn’t exactly know it. Which suited Luca just fine. As with many members of the Syndicate, he kept his private life locked away, and let people assume what they wanted about him. He imaged Tetsu was the same.