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ismaeldelaâ:
An anger, a seething kind, has come to dwell in his chest, ever since the cold shoulder of Sera slunk out through his door that day. It deepens then calms, now and then surging up as a molten steel curling his fist. Ismael has to breathe low and intently then, to not let it come through. Not in front of Vinny; someone yet to turn their back to him. He wears a blank expression, less cold and detached there; softened by the dimmed lights.
âSo, you know their story?â He barely offers a moment to respond before carrying on. âI couldnât keep my mouth shut anymore, yâknow?â Ismael glances to a guest passing them by, then sells a look of sincere concern; brows fussing. âSera deserved to know her sister was alive.â He acts as though he cares, as though the slight on the woman was an affront to him. âAnd Zephyr keepinâ that shit from herâ how fuckinâ cold-blooded you gottaâ be for that?â
     Vinnyâs mouth hung open, brows furrowed in a perplexed and concerned multi nature. He was waiting to hear that he wouldnât see either of the women around for some time, that theyâd run off for good or made an enemy they shouldnât have. Of course this was Vinnyâs dramatized inner monologue, one with his over active imagination that assumed the worst for months since the Navy Pier bombing. The glass in his hand felt a little heavier now, and his free palm was brought up to act as a flat surface below it.
      Their story. He wasnât given enough time to inquire what he meant by that particular phrase. As if they had history together, but what kind of history? He almost asked Ismael if he were sure about the story he was telling. He couldnât finish the sentence with much certainty. It was a close competition as to which bit of information he was having a harder time processing. âYou mean sisters, like blood related. Real sisters?â Not just a term theyâd picked up over the years of knowing each other. âAnd Zephâ that why you donât wanna talk to him? Youâre not just makinâ shit up to mess with me?â Vinny thought he might pop a blood vessel with the way he was intensely peering at the other.
ismaeldelaâ:
Ismael was expecting the truth to have trickled down the ranks by now, seeping onto every branch as the cleft formed between the capos. He tempers the confusion but some bares itself to Vinny, he canât stop it in time. Brow knots as he drags a knuckle across his mouth whilst thinking. Weighing the risks and rewards. âNot exactlyâ not yet, at least,â he says, lower tone now, humorless laugh trailing.
Eyes pierce the other man, more severe in his gaze than he wants to be. Only for a moment before he moves closer. Decision made; Ismael beginning to lay the groundwork and give himself the upperhand. Posture deceptively harmless now, shoulders hunched to create a space for them. âI figured youâd heard by now, man,â he starts, peers through soft eyes. âAbout Azra and Sera?â A coaxing question, testing the waters.
     Head cocked to the side like a curious animal, nearly mimicking the otherâs laugh at the same time. Vinny valued humor, perhaps a little too heavily, so the idea of Ismael and Zephyr having an altercation brought thoughts that were hard to muster into his mind. He just couldnât envision it. It went to show how little he knew. âAzra and Sera...â Whether he meant to bring up their affiliation with the Kovali or not, the younger was lost. âNah, I mean, is it somethinâ important?â He hoped it was something lightheartedâ maybe theyâd made a discovery, something that would help them in the long run. But the tilt of Ismaelâs brows made him conjure otherwise. âThey okay?â His heart rate picked up. Those two meant enough to Vinny that the idea of any possible harm brought to them forged him great distress.
emmettrookâ:
Well, it turned out that âmasquerade partyâ did not mean the same thing as âcostume party,â and that most people had dressed in something classier than a Pikachu onesie. They all had masks, tooâ Emmett just had a pair of sunglasses heâd grabbed out of his truck once he realized everyone else had their faces obscured. But what everyone didnât have was a dog dressed as a pokeball, and nobodyâs fancy costume or fancy mask could beat that.
Janey still wasnât a big fan of crowds, though, or of strangers in general, so Emmett had sought out a corner with a little breathing room. The mask the other man wore covered up his whole face, but nobody but Vinnyâd wear something like thatâŚand, Emmett guessed, he had reason to hide who he was. His voice just confirmed it, and Emmett answered immediately. âThey let Janey drive the boat,â he said. âShe donât have any thumbs.âÂ
At the mention of her name, Janey looked up at him, giving her tail a slight wag and knocking her costume askew. Slipping her a cheese puff, he nudged Vinny with his shoulder. âHow ya been?â It wasnât something heâd normally askâ normally he tried to act like heâd rather have Vinny stay as far away as possible. But after whatâd happened at Taste of Chicago, well, Emmett figured heâd give the kid a pass just for one night.
     There rang a certain aura around the other man. Maybe it was his costume, so... elegantly put together, but Vinny wasnât one for elegance. He was just surprised Emmett had gone so far to steal the show. Truly, he thought Seraâd had it in the bag until now, when the weaponâs electric yellow, head-to-toe costume altogether engrossed his own attention. He supposed he needed something to keep his mind off the possibility that the boat might sink with him trapped in a windowless bathroom below deck.
      âThey let you bring your dog in here?â The incredibly intimidating bouncers at the dock couldâve fallen victim to the puppy dog eyes of both Emmett and Janey, he supposed. Still, Vinny reached a hand down to welcome the animal, a kind which heâd always wanted as a kid but could never have due to a family born allergen. Even today he could feel the effects if he didnât take the time to pop an allergy pill beforehand. âReal reassuring, man.â The roll of his eyes was both naturally welcomed and exaggerated on his part.
     With his head tilted to the side, he began. âGotta say,â his eyes were trained on the dog. âLooks better than you do. You rob a kiddie party on the way over?â Vinny had to give him shit, he always did. It was hardly surprising the turn their conversation took, that was until the other decided to ask a predictable yet well meaning question. âWishinâ I wasnât on a boat. Got a million places I could be, but here? Might be the last place I wannaâ be.â
zephyrjcksnâ:
Thereâd been nothing ideal about it, casting Vinny aside into the confines of a safe house until he could figure out how to keep him out of the line of fire that would surely find itâs way if none of them could track down the gun â or whoâd put it within the younger manâs grasp in the first place. Itâs not something he would have usually done, a testament that most of those whoâd come to him for help might pay testament to. He didnât like loose ends, and even less so, he didnât like leaving a man alone in the wake of burning tragedy. Purely, because he knew how quickly it could threaten to unhinge. Itâs certainly not something thatâs ever bothered him, the first shots he fired that were intended to meet the mark of blood did exactly that, and he felt not an ounce of guilt for it, but as observation had served him well, he knew that couldnât always be the case for anyone else. As hardened a figure as he could be, Zephyr only painted himself as heartless to those who needed to see him as such; and for those who sought a little more, he could manage enough to convince them that the world they lived in now, was purely greyscaled. Unfortunately for Vinny; his tragedy had come at a time where heâd simply not had the time to do as he should have. The cracks within the Kovali were present, and he deemed it far more important to find those, than piece Vinny back together as best he could. Now, as he watched the prospect, he could almost feel the rising presence of such a mistake, though he sought no forgiveness for it. âYou really wannaâ fuckinâ ask that?â He spoke lowly beneath the simplistic nature of his own mask, humor tacked to the edge of his tone like an afterthought. âLetâs not go divinâ into worst-case scenario here, you canât fuckinâ afford to be thinkinâ like that.â
     Zephyrâs profile surfaced many memories. Not like it had when Vinny normally saw the underboss, but because heâd hardly seen him since what he could only describe as the incident, that was, without sending himself into a bout of spiraling existential crisis. He remembered the elderâs glare, his demand to know whoâd put the gun in the prospectâs hands. Something Vinny couldnât remember regardless of how hard he tried. Their counterpart at the time, Sera, was a buffer to the storm brewing within the both of them. They hadnât been able to clash, to hurt each other while they were both distressed in drastically different ways. In all fairness, Zephyr sought answers to keep them, everyone associated with the Kovali, safe. The finality of the safe house made Vinny feel like a pariah; he was glad to be free of it some weeks later, but also felt a strange longing to be locked away again. To be hidden from the stares once more. It was pure luck that those who had witnessed the act were strangely absent from the prospectâs life for some time after. And there were new, very real threats circulating, threatening to oust him. But maybe that was just his paranoia.
          âNah, just said it for shits and giggles.â He deadpanned with a sideways glance toward the other. His grasp was impossibly tight around his glass of alcohol. With one deep breath to lift the weight from his chest, Vinny turned, his body facing Zephyrâs, as he searched for the right words to use. âCanât help it.â Heâd been through so muchâ enough to the point of wanting an abysmally boring life. Heâd give up all the excitement in the world to go back in time, erase a single bad deed. Even just the memory, gone from existence, heâd be⌠happy, even as an amnesiac. Anything was better than a possible court hearing, jail time, and the scrutiny thatâd weigh so heavy on him if he were to ever be recognized as a killer in the public eye. âWeâre not here for a good timeâ you trynaâ tell me we are?â Heâd have a hard time believing it.

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nicpclltierâ:
jxsperleeâ:
azrakaranâ:
It was the last place she expected to be. In fairness, she had a tendency of using bathroom trips as an excuse to abandon her date, to the point sheâd very definitely need to order cranberry juice when she headed upstairs. Yet, she hadnât anticipated the scene sheâd walked in on. Certainly didnât imagine sheâd linger to watch the effects take hold, but someone had to keep an eye out, and she needed an excuse to unmask for a while.
She ducked under Vinnyâs arms, weaving between he and Nic to get to the sinks. Couldnât testify to him being right, even after she sniffed her own hands as she reached for a towel. Carefully nudging Nicâs artistry out of the way so she didnât spoil the attempt. âDoes anyone need water?â At some point there was a cocktail glass settled on top of a cistern, leaving her to seek out something a little more sanitary- a silver flask now perched on the counter.
The room was much more appealing than might have been suspected, given most of the passengers were using the fancy facilities upstairs or in private rooms. It had suffered a bit with the groups presence, however. Still there were parts of it they hadnât fully explored, too invested in the little corner they had carved out. She may not have been under the influence, but there was just something about sitting on top of a sink counter that made you feel a little whimsical. She reached out for a handful of petals from Jasper, before perching back up on it. âThe musicâs still playing. Youâre safe.â
Jasperâs eyes had remained trained on one of the small soaps from the sink for near minutes. Something about it⌠maybe it was the scent of food wafting over from the prawns near him or just the fact that all his senses had been dialed up to twelve, but something about the soap made him think itâd taste fantastic. He jerked up when it seemed like Azra had materialized next to him from out of the blue and opened his mouth to add to the conversation, only to sit there and continuously open his mouth for a handful of seconds. âWater? Why?â He lifted his hand and let the fine tremor in it shake the soap for him. âFor this? I think heâs dead already, no water needed.â Jasper sniffed and used the back of his free hand to rub his nose. Fuck. He felt good.
The enclosed space was much, much better than the party that went on outside the door. Jasper felt clearheaded and alive instead of anxious about the entire affair like he had been. His attention came back to the soap once more, lifting it up to his nose to smell it. With how much powder was up his nasal cavity, it was a wonder he could smell anything at all. The potpourri that laid at his feet was evidence heâd been enjoying smelling any and everything in the room a bit too much. âHey,â he announced suddenly, his voice just barely too loud. âI have an idea. Do you think this,â he lifted the soap for the second time, âis the same as that,â he sharply turned his head to the tray of prawns, âand tastes good, too?â
Hands shoved towards her knocked the twisted hand towel beside her to the floor as she lent away, the drawn out and childlike groan that slipped her lips loudly despite the fact that her own digits curled around Vinnyâs hand to tug him a little closer to the counter she lent against. âI almost had it. I literally..â almost had it.â Her one-track mind pinning itself to the quick demolishment of what barely consisted of a scrunched up towel, let alone a swan. The pad of her finger swiping up what little remained of her last line, slipping between her lips to rub into her gums, âWhich beach?â She noted with a shockingly calm curiosity as the tip of her nose met the middle of Vinnyâs palm. âWeâre literally on a boat, we âgot plenty of water. â Sheâs cute, who invited her?â The sharp ramblings of details Nic had missed within the folds of her intox as she let go of her roommateâs hand and instead reached out for a strand of Azraâs hair. âDidnât we make a rule about adopting strays? â- We should get a cat.â
Naturally, it was far easier to be here, than upstairs. The demanding hues of the casanova no doubt tirelessly seeking her out in the crowd for yet another fickle attempt to get her to weave the crowd until she could entwine digits with Judd. All for the sick game he played. This â this she could fall into, and had, much much earlier on than she might have intended. Jasperâs sudden call for attention drew doe hues up to pin expectantly to the soap in his hand, at least, until she followed his line of sight to the tray of prawns. Eyes widened and hands met Jasperâs chest with a quick pitter-patter of fingertips, âOh my god, the food.â
          Vinny dipped and swerved, barely missing Azraâs swinging legs as he came to face her. The prospect grabbed her shoulders, shook them violently, unknowingly, eyes wide. âShe is,â he tossed his head back toward Monica to acknowledge her words. âLove herâ you donât know Azra? You gottaâ know Azra.â Just then his arm was slung over the womanâs shoulders as he pulled her off the counter with gusto. And then his supplier spoke; there was too much going on at once. After having disrupted Azraâs natural state and rounding her over to where his roommate stood, her heap of a masterpiece now on the bathroom floor, he found his way over to the last sink embedded in the white-ish, golden counter top. He felt physically on cloud nine. Mentally, well, that was a different story. Like cloud fifteen. A quarter of him felt like he could run a marathon, the next like he was ready to play the best set of his life at this damn party, the third like he could write confessions of undying passion to every companion of his in the bathroom, and lastly, like he was destined to consume an entire bar of seashell shaped soap.
          A hearty laugh launched from Vinny as he gripped the counterâs edge, before noting the bar of soap in Jasperâs hand. There was a strange pull to the otherâs hand, of all things. It was gripping the soap, after all, and Vinny was sure the scent and flavor wouldâve transferred over to the mad scientistâs skin. His saliva made a home on Jasperâs skin when he tested his theory, but he tasted like nothing, really. âPeople flavored ice cream,â he announced suddenly, like he was remembering a weird episode of a television show or something of the sort. The distant hum and bump of music was heard through the ceiling, or floor, of the yacht. He couldnât tell where it was coming from. Maybe theyâd switched floors while he was distracted. âMan, Iâm glad Iâm not out there. I didnât even wanna be here, yâknow? Heyâ hey Az, how long dâyou think we have until someone notices weâre gone?â It was a genuine question, but without the usual paranoia that would accompany the thought of getting caught slacking off on the job.
xlnxknightâ:
Halloween had never been a real draw for the woman. As a young girl her mother had practically drilled into her that dressing up and pretending to be someone she was not would be like begging to stitch a mask onto her face in the future. Funny how that panned out. She pretended every day to be someone else. Someone with a little more sanity, a little more grandeur. Someone who didnât care for the sight of gun while one was tucked neatly against her thigh. With the dress she wore, however, it was near impossible to conceal anything- hence the corset and itâs lovely little ability to hold things right betweenâ well. She reached into her cleavage to lift out a small soft cloth. âHold still for a moment, thereâs a smudge on the-â she reached to polish one of the smaller gems on his mask near his jaw.
âCanât have the disco ball not catching light, can we?â She tucked it back away, before following his indiciation to the orchestra. What an odd decision- to have an orchestra and then a DJ? âWell Iâm sure youâll be much more entertaining than that crew over there. Classical is nice, but really only appropriate for a true ballroom setting. A yacht isnât really meant to hold them. Feel like we definitely should count the lifeboats. Is there an engine room?â The light did indeed catch his mask in such a way that if she were tipsy or even drunk she might be fascinated by it. Bright colors amidst all the dull. âHow long have you been a DJ for?â
     The night was sure to drag on as long as possible; he felt it in his bones, in his soul. Dread was a powerful thing. It twisted him from the inside out, made him hate his life for the time being. Vinny supposed the music soon to play would breathe some life into him, bring him out of the drought he felt like was infesting his body. His limbs were slow, reaching to grasp his drink once more, as if that were the answer to all lifeâs problems. He was still, like a deer caught in the headlights of a mach truck. Supposedly it didnât bother him, the smudge nor the hand that weaned near his face to make the mask he wore look new again. If he were to make a sudden move heâd knock both their drinks to the floor with an attention grabbing smash or two. He simply thought otherwise, just to avoid that scenario.
      âExactly,â he nodded mellowly. It was his job to entertain, so why not look the part? He had to nod, agreement rang in his tone. âIf thereâs an engineââ he paused to ask what could be taken as a harrowing question. âThereâs an engine, right?â If the hum between pauses of the Philharmonicâs songs was any indication, or the sway of the yacht on the river, there certainly was. âHope so, uh, not long. Guess Iâve been messinâ around with music since I was a kid. Drumsticks on the walls kindaâ thing.â His music taste wasnât exactly one note, either, which helped. Flipping from Cyndi Lauper to Disturbed definitely made him immune to any ill feelings toward music genres near and far. âI can make a career out of it for now.â Though he hardly thought about the future in terms of his day job.
serakaranâ:
Under any other circumstance, anotherâs intrusion upon her personal space without provocation might have given way to admonishment, yet this was Vinny and his behavior allowed for certain exceptions to be made. His request forced the raising of brows in surprise, an amused grin spreading across painted features before she nodded in acceptance and allowed him to transport their figures to the dance floor. Enough bodies were swaying and moving gracefully throughout the space that no one would pay them any mind here. âWhatâs on your mind, Vinny?â
Her smile is encouraging, filled to the brim and nearly overflowing with an accompanied belief in the young man in front of her now. âI couldnât do what you do,â she admitted as the duo found their rhythm amidst the crowd. âTake the compliment and run with it for a little while.â Sera catches a glimpse of someone just outside of the dance floor perimeter, believes she might recognize half the exposed face before heâs shrouded once more by another pairing as they twirl. âThatâs the secret to success, isnât it? Ignoring the ones who donât matter and taking what you can from those who do.â
     They could blend in amongst the crowd, although their costumes were naturally pulling gazes. His mouth opened first, as if unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. And he stood there, hand on the small of his friendâs back as he awaited the right words to come into his ever jumbled mess of a mind. Whatâs on your mind, Vinny? So much more than he could articulate at the moment, that was certain. âGot a bad feelinâ, Sera.â Which didnât mean much. He could chalk it up to his nightmarish flashbacks of Navy Pier some months back, to which they were approaching on the Charon this evening. Or perhaps the Taste of Chicago and its dastardly ending; the reasonings behind his gut feeling were endless.
     The sides of his mouth wanted to lift up at her demand, yet they couldnât. He was only happy she couldnât see the absence of a smile on his lips. ââ donât think Iâd take anything from anyone if I could help it.â And as he had. The prospect was far from innocent, but he did not go out of his way to be a terrible person. Some might argue thatâs exactly what he was, but thinking about what other people thought about him made him crazy after a while. It was better to push such thoughts out of his head for as long as he could. âYou tellinâ me you got where you are by catchinâ dirty work as a thief?â
@nicpclltier  @jxsperlee  @azrakaranâ
     The initial offer of drugs hit Vinny like a brick; now he stood in one of the crew bathrooms below deck with three close pals, most of which who seemed to carry similar interests. He couldnât be one to say no at a time like this. The atmosphere was impeccable, an entire powder room separate from the stalls themselves, seashell shaped mini soaps by every sink, and cubbies cut out of a fine black metal along each wall. It was like a school gym changing room, but fancy. Vinny swore he saw a bunny popping out of the toilet as Azra scattered out of one of the stalls, surely trying to prevent her bladder from exploding.
      âMy hands smell like the beach at sunrise. Smell,â he exclaimed, shoving his freshly washed digits in his roommateâs face and interrupting her progress of attempting to make a swan out of a heated hand towel. Jasper wasnât far, a horde of potpourri petals at his feet. There also happened to be a tray of prawns, or as Azra had so nicely put it, vegetables of the sea, on the counter next to the mad scientist, whichâd supposedly been swiped for Monicaâs sake. Like it matteredâ three out of the four of them were too far gone to care about the party any more. They were having the time of their lives, well, with a stand-in mother figure in tow, but she was more than welcome.
ismaeldelaâ:
âPat, huh?â A faint grimace at the name then a glinting smile, lewd, muscles loosening. Ismael folds his arms, a secure stance as he observes their surroundings. One eye on the myriad of faces, bared and shrouded, flitting past them. A sinking stone settles in his breast bone then, wary eyes darting back to Vinny then away. Finger taps on his chin, considering, wondering. Perhaps the growing wedge between the capos was not public knowledge yet, or else Vinny may have met him with a less than enthused expression. âHow âbout you let me know, too, yeah?â The light in his gaze dulls some, a burning inside. âAinât jumpinâ at the chance to talk to the guy.â
     He couldnât help the huff of air that escaped his lips. âYou two get in a cockfight?â An eyebrow raised high on his forehead. Vinny had to wonder how their relationship was, how it worked. Part of him thought theyâd be two peas in a pod, although heâd never seen them in the same room more than a handful of times, nor seen them speak even less than that. It wasnât his business, but that wouldnât stop the young prospect from asking Ismael about it. âHeâs not so badâ âsides, should be able to spot him from a mile away.â His height, broad shoulders, and blond hairâd be a dead giveaway if there ever were one. Maybe Vinnyâs mask wasnât the only tell in the room.

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jxsperleeâ:
Jasper loathed social gatherings. Ever since he was roped into doing the dreaded deed at the Boardwalk months ago, he hadnât quite been able to find himself getting comfortable in public spaces. For someone who was already socially inept, being afraid that someone was going to recognize him as one of the culprits behind the tragedy that unfolded. Despite having somewhat of an edge in the hierarchy of the Zhangâs inner circle, Jasper still didnât have a say in whether or not he wanted to show up at these events. The moment the Faction realized which certain group was going to be at the damn the ball, he was roped into buying a mask and getting back into an old suit.
Oh, well. At least having low lights and a mask eased his paranoia. Somewhat. He had a little something special meant to really calm his nerves later. Drink in hand, Jasper took a long, slow sip, only stopping when he heard a familiar voice. He glanced over and sized up the man, quickly putting two and two together. âWell, lookie here,â he said, breathing out an amused noise. Finally. Someone a bit more sensible. To him, at least. âNot sure about the worst, but I might have the best thing that could happen.â Jasper offered a smirk and punctuated his words with a gentle tap of his breast pocket, which held a small plastic bag between the lining of the blazer. âSomething to bring the mood up.â
     Fuck this yacht. Vinnyâs internal monologue was much angrier than usual. Fuck this crowd. The fear of being recognized as a murderer crippled him into a frozen state. He could hope the trauma of seeing a bullet travel through someoneâs head would erase his face from those who witnessed it. His mind hardly processed the idea that his set of features were hidden from the world for one night. Maybe heâd have to start carrying a mask around in case of overwhelming bouts of paranoia. The drink in his hand calmed him down; thatâs what alcohol did for him, lest he be in the company of a rowdy bunch. There was really only one thing that lifted his spirits, and he hadnât seen much of that something lately.
     Fucking hell. So his mask wasnât doing him many favors aside protecting his identity from strangers. The silhouette beside him surfaced old memories... memories that were most certainly doctored by a particular substance to seem that way. âFound me on a bad day, man.â Eyes shot toward Jasper, then immediately toward the pocket on the run of the mill blazer. âGuess itâs a good day for you.â As it probably always was when he found someone whoâd buy from him. Vinny was convinced he had a black book of regulars. âRead my mindâ I donât know, gotta get up there soon,â though his eyes told a different story, the other could probably pick up on what he was thinking. Addicts didnât have a hard time reading each other.
thehxtshxtâ:
There were a great many times that Valentine had been drunk. During those times, he had not intentionally gotten completely shitfaced- nor had he ever planned to. But the moment a Halloween party had been mentioned, he knew he had no choice but to attend. He couldnât leave Vinny alone in a crowd of people who might recongize him and potentially attempt to harm him- and once he was well and certain that the chance of that happening was set to zero, he would be able to get so wasted he couldnât feel his face. He had lied to himself the night heâd been in the car with Sera. Lied to himself and tried to make it out to be some slip of his resolve- like he hadnât been thinking about what it would feel like to kiss her long before then and he;d continued that thought wave. Like he didnât brace his knuckles against his lips to stop the tingling that simply wouldnât fade away.
He should have been elated about it. But he wasnât. It shattered him deeper than he thought he could be because heâd known before heâd done it what the outcome would be. There was no comprehensible world in which they could be anything other than a boss and her subordinate. It was work. At the end of the day that was all they could ever really be. Two adults who worked together. And it fucking wrecked every piece of him that had ever been exposed to her. Right down to the tips of his fingers. So, as heâd stepped onto the yacht with a disguise, albeit not a very good one, heâd searched the room for the one person he felt comfortable enough with to be around at the moment. He took a wild guess as he saw the flashy face. The path around him cleared pretty quickly, and he grabbed someoneâs drink from their hand with a grin before stepping up beside Vincent.
âReally? What the hell are you wearing, Vinny?â
     The yachtâs grandeur came into view rather easily. Vinny caught himself staring longingly at the light fixtures, delicate chandeliers hanging by a thread from crown molded ceilings, with crystals that shone off every surface in the room. His mask harbored the rays of artificial light, making him a focal point of the large room. He thought it strange, the ambience which he stood in. High tea and fine dining were never his strong suits, as neither ballroom dancing and gentlemanly etiquette were. The prospect considered himself an everyday peopleâs person. He existed in the hustle and bustle of Chicagoâs middle class, scraping by with money from a job that brought him joy over anything else. Transfer said job to the Charon and, well, it didnât have the same charm. Partyâs meant a crowd, and a crowd, these days, meant unwanted company. Another call for Martial law, another catastrophe.
     His eyes drifted to and fro, as if to wonder when someone or something would catch his interest. âVal,â he tipped his imaginary hat to the friend. He was more like an older brother since their impromptu, albeit heavily inebriated, heart to heart. All Vinny remembered was the beat of his heart when he asked a question he thought he might not recover from and the feel of an empty liquor bottle in his hand. âA mask, same as yours.â He played the foolâs part. Trying to convince Val they were anything alike, style wise, would be like trying to get a cow to walk down a flight of stairs. âHeya Clank, let me know when you spot Ratchet, would yaâ?â The alcoholic beverage never left the prospectâs hand; he lifted it once again to his lips in retort, to match his counterpart.
ismaeldelaâ:
He gleams in feigned modesty, gestures to himself. Fingers sink into the taut muscle of the shoulder, shakes out some of the tension. Some unwarranted show of his authority, rather than an act of care. âSurprised I found you.â Ismael lowers his own mask and motions to the kaleidoscope on the other. âLooks sick, man, youâre upstaginâ all of us.â
A step closer, angled towards the room; low lights obscuring the adorned guests even further. âHard to say, no oneâs wearinâ their real face tonight,â he hums, a quirked mouth. âYou here alone? No hot date?â
     The tilt of his head was ambiguous at best. âReally?â Although he knew what he meant, the prospect joked in return. He was, in fact, a walking billboard of himself for anyone that was even slightly acquainted with him. âThanks, man. Canât say it was in the plan.â No amount of trauma could force the creativity out of him. âYeah, nameâs Pat. Got one hell of a bodyâ one hell of a voice, too.â His body language changed drastically to fit the new company, Ismael always caught a good side of Vinny after a moment or two. âLet me know if you find Zeph, alright?â Their conversation was far from over, but the younger physically felt the need to make his concern known.
serakaranâ:
âShould I be?â She smirked almost conspiratorially from behind her champagne glass, albeit not having actually dressed for anyoneâs benefit beyond her own. The costume felt extravagant and yet totally elegant to the point that she became nervous to brush against anyone lest it ruin the perfection. âIs it too over the top? I thought that the grown man in a onesie might have outdone me, but your opinion is most crucial of course.â
Humming, Sera nodded in agreement. "I suppose Iâm honored.â Though she would spend a considerable amount of time tonight avoiding said possibilities of anything blowing up aboard the yacht, either literally or metaphorically. Hadnât they each been through enough already? And Irena still remained behind bars⌠What the Kovali wouldnât give for a break, at least for a night. âYouâre going to do wonderfully, you always do. I have complete faith in your talent.â
     A hand jutted forward to brush one of the many faux bird feathers between his fingers, despite the total lack of permission from their wearer. Sera carried the weight of an iconic film character easily, like she was made to do so. âHow âbout I answer that with a dance? May I?â He asked suddenly, formally, his drink set down on the nearest platform so he could properly bow himself forward. Heâd feel better speaking to her about his concerns if they were on the dance floor, constantly moving away from eavesdroppers, should there be any.
     Eyes darted behind her for a moment, nervously searching for lingering gazes. âMy talent,â he had to pause to let out a short huff of air, âitâs easy to do what I doâ play anythinâ you want, nobodyâs sober enough to complain anyway.â The worst heâd gotten was a few plastered girls asking for cosmopolitans, as if the DJ booth at Purgatory looked anything like the bar in the first place. âThisâll be different, but Iâll ignore everyone if I have to.â He shrugged nonchalantly.
azrakaranâ:
Being on the water could be very disorienting, sheâd give him that. It just wasnât affecting her all that much, even with the time that had passed since sheâd last stood on a deck. Probably the reason why she barely noticed; when the journey from Turkey had been rough in more ways than one. âYou need a seat more than a drink. Your legs are probably working too hard to stay in place. Give you sore muscles by the end of the night.â She hadnât fathomed it was Vinny, even with the distinctive style of the mask or her times at Purgatory. Yet he knew who she was and offered Az as way to string her to conclusion. âOkay Toto, let me grab you a pedestal.â
She may have still harboured grief for what he had done.. no, what had happened, but she still held some for him as well. This was probably the worst place he could be, a reminder of the entire ordeal at the festival. There wasnât much she could do to soothe it for him, if she wanted to, but she could at least be decent enough to help with physical comfort. A short conversation with some attendees about the vacant seat at their table, and she was very delicately traversing the outskirts of the crowd to bring it back to him. âIf youâre going to drink, get something with ginger in it.â
Although that wouldnât help all that much if he added the spins to his teetering. âIs it just this boat thatâs unfriendly, or did you quarrel with them all?â
     Raised hands were a sign that he was positive he could hold his own. âI know how my body works.â Jest laced every word. Vinny had been out on plenty of benders. No sleep, no food, just drugs and alcohol. It was how he lived for so many years that the idea of properly taking care of himself seemed extreme and a huge amount of responsibility. But sore muscles were the least of his worries. No wonder there were so many prying eyes; they knew he was bound to fall back into such habits sooner or later. The cold glass felt good against his palm, sweating from the way he managed to work himself up in thirty seconds flat.
      âOh, okayâ Great Wizard of Az, gotchaâ. Damn, we shouldaâ figured this out sooner and dressed the part.â Still, he nodded in approval of her half idea turned command. âNext one I getâll have ginger ale.â He felt like a light roll of his eyes was necessary, only she couldnât see it. Another drink wasnât what he needed, more so the lack thereof. He was willing to push every red flag out of his mind for the night, pick up an old hobby, make some bad decisions, all to forget where he was. Nothing could be worse than his past decisions; it was a win win.  âHuh? Nah, nah, I just... donât think I should be here is all. But youâll keep an eye out, yeah? Let me know if somethinâ goes wrong.â So he could get the hell out of dodge and never come back, hopefully before the inevitable disaster started.

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xlnxknightâ:
The prospect of attending a party after so many events had gone haywire over the past few months was not exactly Lennoxâs idea of a good time. Quite frankly, the only reason sheâd attended was because she knew sheâd find a certain capo there, she couldnât refuse an invitation. Thorn in her side or not, she still had to get close enough to Ismael to learn his routine better. Sheâd masked herself to blend in but it was with great unease and uncertainty. Masks were stifling, and obscured her vision just enough to irritate her. But, rules were rules, and when she had to she followed them. So far, itâd been uneventful to say the least but that was expected when one walked into the Philharmonic playing. All the violins did was remind her of a time sheâd much rather forget.
With her second drink in hand, sheâd stopped to pretend like she cared about the sounds penetrating the room, and as the disco ball beside her spoke, she turned her attention to them. âHm?â Her fist initial response- she felt like she was ready to doze off standing up. âThe worst? I donât know. The boat could sink,â she shrugged, before realizing that she might not be in the company would appreciate that kind of joke, âwhich is what Iâd prefer if I have to hear another waltz.â An attempted soft laugh followed to buffer the harshness of the words before she sipped her tonic. âThatâs an interesting mask youâve got. Quite a lot louder than everyone elseâs. Bold choice.â
     Vinny saw surprisingly well out of his full faced, somewhat obnoxious mask. After a few minutes of self soothing words from his inner dialogue, he was able to convince himself that this was for his own well beingâ that, on this particular night, he wouldnât have to worry about wearing his emotions on his face. It was tragic, the drop heâd taken, from being able to lie his way through a conversation to carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders compromising his own social life. No more was the prospect a use in that department, which made the idea of playing setlist after setlist on the yacht plenty more appealing. No awkward encounters with those he barely knew, looking for information only having been given half of the details he actually needed.
     A shrug rolled off his shoulders at the painfully obvious answer he was just about asking for. âThe yacht could sink and we might not have enough lifeboats.â He added the extra grave detail. As if the night could become a bad sequel to the Titanic. The corners of his lips pulled up slightly. âWonât have to deal with it much longer,â he raised his drink to her, and toward the end of the Chicago Philharmonicâs performance. But he hadnât thought it was all that boring. If anything, itâd provided him a sense of tranquility. âYeah...â Heâd be a horrible liar if he tried to say he sought to be the most recognizable in the room. Vinny wanted to be elsewhere, if anywhere at all. âGotta entertainâ DJ.â
azrakaranâ:
Although she felt out of place in the surroundings, that was true of practically everywhere these days. Chicago had never felt like where she was supposed to be. So her discomfort didnât seem particularly heightened, so long as she didnât think of the why of it all. Why there was an event such as this, why they were there at Rafalâs behest. Of course, telling herself not to think of such things only made them overtake all other thought. So busy trying to drown them out that she barely noticed the proximity of the person beside her. Snapped back when he spoke.Â
She wasnât sure she could imagine an appropriate response to the question, given theyâd all lived through the worst then found worse to come. The event surrounding them was a result of all that. Money for memorials, money for surviving family members, a pat on the back to those who thought theyâd stemmed the spill of blood even temporarily. Thereâs even something about the voice that echoes of recent horrors. That doesnât really narrow it down though. Attempts to smile in response, so she might not have to speak. It feels too unkind to decline.
âIf youâre worried about the boat, try to imagine youâre on land, just the movement of a car.â
     Darling guests pranced in their multi thousand dollar outfits, to which Vinny just stared. Heâd be itching to hang a âNo Requestsâ sign from his neck the second he took the stage. Azra had an aura unlike the rest, and a way with words that, even when meant to beat someone down, like he had deserved such a short time ago, lifted him up. They gave him a new perspective on his series of unfortunate situations, that the ordeals he ended up in felt like the beginning of something rather than the end. He hardly intended for his next words to be poetic, never one to scale up his speech pattern for a cultured event.
     âIâve never felt like I needed to throw up in a car before.â He felt himself swaying in the general direction of the boatâs tipped edge, something that hardly shouldâve been noticeable. But it was like Vinnyâs senses were numb and on overdrive at the same time. His selective hearing made it possible to tune out the unwanted chaos, but his eyes noticed strange scenes all around him. He was thankful he wasnât experiencing sensory overload just yet. âNot even close to the same thing, Azâ you want a drink?â Because that felt like the only correct path available to them both.