inferno

“It’s not that hard, dude,” Rizzo let out an exasperated sigh, leaning down over Jamie’s shoulder as he scanned the blackjack table in front of them. “You have two choices: ‘hit me’, and you risk either getting a card that’ll bring you over twenty one, or you stay and the dealer gets a higher number than you. You’re sittin’ at fourteen, right now, so you’re in a tough fucking spot.” It was like explaining things to a literal baby at this point. “What do you wanna do?”

He was intoxicated, which was no surprise to anyone at this point, but he was having a good ass time, which was really all that mattered. Wearing his favorite suit, mingling with anything that moved, escaping to the bathroom every once in a while for a ‘pick-me-up’ — Salvatore Rizzo was in his prime at this point at the night. So much so, that even the sight of Marley at the bar wasn’t enough to bring him down (yet). “Why is it that everywhere I go, you just happen to show up?” he quirked a brow, waving over the bartender. “Nice dress.” Rizzo mumbled then, gaze averted.

“I’m a lot of things but a liar isn’t one of them.” She teased back before chuckling considering it. Raising her eyebrows at him the moment he called her princess Phobe was clearly taken by his choice of nickname. “I am not a princess.” She quickly corrected. “I’m fun. I am still fun. I just don’t need to do a line of coke off your dick to fuck you anymore.” 

Rizzo smirked, eyes moving past her momentarily. “Whatever,” he said dismissively, not that it would prevent him for using the nickname in the future. Perhaps it was a bit degrading of him, but wasn’t that all part of the fun for the two of them? It wasn’t as if any of their arrangements over the years were to be proud of. “You don’t, huh?” he thought for a moment, brows knitting together. “When’s the last time you even did a line? Startin’ to think you’ve gone sober on me, Cole.”

“Guess Black Jack isn’t my lucky game tonight.” He chuckled, stepping away from the game to instead focus on the person nearest to him. He had to admit that the night had been fun, even if he had his reservations about the gambling and alcohol going around. He was simply making his best with the soft drinks he ordered every now and then. He wouldn’t say no to free drinks. “You’ve been enjoying yourself so far? Found out any secrets to these games, by any chance?” 

"The secret?” Rizzo narrowed his eyebrows, letting out a humorous scoff as he took another large sip of his vodka soda. “The secret is to not suck ass at the game — which, I haven’t really mastered myself, but...” he shrugged, not incredibly concerned with blowing his (well, his mother’s) mother’s money on a few stupid gambling games. That was what it was all about anyway, wasn’t it? “Either way, the free alcohol’s enough for me to stick around. What’s your excuse?”

Skyler nearly mentioned Rizzo’s previous meltdown about the picture on his instagram, but he was sure he didn’t have to as he gave the other a bemused look. “Plenty of my shit is digital, now. Besides – in order to get all popular and famous, you should have some good photos. Otherwise you’ll just look like you’ve rolled out of bed like you usually do.” He reached forward to mess up Rizzo’s hair even more, just to prove his point.

Rizzo gave the other a roll of his eyes, though that signature smirk stayed planted on his cheeks. He sat down on the edge of the bed, feet planted on the floor before carefully discarding the photograph beside him. “I’m already popular and famous,” he retorted sarcastically, not delusional enough to truly believe his words. After all, it was his mother who’s coat tails he’d ride off of. “Fuck off,” he swatted Skyler’s hand away, instead taking it in his own and gently yanking the male closer to him. “I thought my bed-head was what got you to start sleepin’ with me in the first place.”

“So you’re a tough guy, make your mama sad type…” Marley mumbled the (incorrect) words from the radio underneath her breath as she stood at the stove, scraping the spatula against the bottom of the pan, waiting for it’s contents to resemble something like scrambled eggs and less like egg soup. If Skyler had the kind of night last night she thought he had, he was certainly going to need something greasy, and nothing cured Marley’s hangover like a good bagel sandwich. She’d only caught the tail-end of his sexcapade by the time she had made it home after work. Late enough to be exposed to only the faintest of moans and a few laughs, though if it continued after she put her earbuds in and began to play music, Marley didn’t know. Exhausted from a long day, Marley had happily collapsed into her own bed, lulled to sleep by the shuffle of her iPod’s playlist. When she awoke, she thought she’d recalled the opening of the front door a few hours before, taking that to mean it would be just her and her roommate in the apartment. 

At the sound of a bedroom door opening, a grin graced her lips, giving the eggs another good stir. “Somebody had quite the night–” She teased, turning around to get a good look at him–and nearly dropped her spatula in surprise. “Rizzo?” It was testament to her surprise that his nickname was the one that left her lips, leaving behind her typical shtick of referring to him solely by his legal name. Her instinct was to ask him what he was doing there, but from his appearance, added to what she’d heard last night, it was quite clear. What a small world. Acutely aware of her own minimal clothing, Marley opted for the casual route, tongue in cheek as she slowly turned back towards her eggs. “…there’s coffee in the pot. Take it that you know where the mugs are.”

@salrizzo

It wasn’t uncommon for Rizzo to wake up in his ex’s bed, though the addition of a roommate was quite new. He didn’t know much about her — and why would he have to? It wasn’t like their escapes were serious enough for a formal introduction to be made, and Rizzo was nothing if not completely shameless. So, when he heard a bit of light commotion through Skyler’s door that morning, he didn’t think much of it before he got up, popped a couple of pills, and headed out of the bedroom to make himself some coffee. Surely this roommate wouldn’t have much to say; after all, they hadn’t last night with all of the noise.

It took him a couple of moments to register the petite blonde that stood before him, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes as if that would magically transform her into another person. Marley. They’d already run into each other once, which had proved to be an absolute nightmare given the circumstances surrounding their initial departure. Now, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. To say. “The hell are you doing here?” he spat out finally, feet frozen in place. If it were any other person, Rizzo wouldn’t have given a second thought to his clothing — or, lack thereof. Something about Marley’s presence, however, in that very moment, made him feel so incredibly naked. Crossing his arms over his chest, the musician glanced around the area before his gaze returned to her. “You sleeping with Skyler’s roommate or somethin’?”

“Miss you? Maybe in your dreams, sugar.” Lifting her hand up to pinch his cheeks as if she were a grandmother. The brunette teased before letting him free. Unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes as he spoke about Europe in such an unnoticeable fashion. “As usual.’“ She mocked unable to help herself from chuckling. “Now I know that you are dreaming. I’m not looking to score anything especially if it involves scoring with you.” 

Rizzo playfully swatted her hand away, shaking his head amusedly. “Liar,” he teased, crossing his arms. He was fully aware of the little cat and moue thing that the two of them typically partook in, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him the least bit excited. “You asked, princess,” Rizzo shrugged, letting out a laugh at her next comment. “What’s that supposed to mean? I remember you bein’ a hell of a lot more fun, Phobe.”

Ah, right. That stupid fucking dinner they’d told her about. Marley nodded her head, vaguely recalling the event, but as if wanting to forget it themself, watched as Rizzo popped another pill into their mouth. She bit her tongue. The behavior wasn’t new, or uncommon. She could count only a handful of times she’d been around them while they were sober, or not recovering from a hangover. Marley wasn’t innocent herself. Was known to enjoy a night of drinking and partying. The difference was that she knew how to stop. How to draw the line between enjoying herself and losing complete control–a line that Rizzo more than toed, but crossed. She knew if their habits were to be brought up, they’d claim to have a handle on them. They had, after all, been dabbling in them since way before they’d met Marley, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that her departure would serve as anything but fuel to keep fanning that fire. She didn’t know if that was why she’d let the promise slip. Almost as if she were giving them forever. She’d blame the drugs for them not realizing that forever with Marley was nothing more than a pipe dream, an empty promise, nothing more than whispered words to…what? Entice them? Soothe them? She couldn’t say for sure…but with the way they were looking at her, she knew without a doubt that whatever it was doing, it was working. Perhaps she should have felt guilty about it. Perhaps she did. But then their lips were on hers and she could do nothing but kiss them back. Accept their praise with a laugh against their mouth, pulling back to further tease them, a mocking retort on her lips, but before it could sound, their words fell on her ears. I think I might love you. In an instant, she was fourteen again. Hearing those words for the first time. They’d frightened her just as much back then as they did now. Despite being older. Despite being with someone new. Despite even maybe feeling the same way. It didn’t help that she’d learned a long time ago not to trust the words that came from Rizzo’s lips. Most fueled by drugs or alcohol, it was hard to get the truth out of them, to know what was real and what was just chemical. Did they love her, or love the way she made them feel? The way she enabled them? Marley knew the answer–thought she did, at least–and instead of calling them out on it, instead of laughing in their face–she allowed it. Allowed herself to go with it, as if it were true. Just for the moment. A slow smile stretched out across her lips, hand coming to grip at their chin as she once again settled to straddle their waist. “You think?” Her eyebrow rose, though her face softened as she leaned back in, lips parted and press right against theirs. If they thought they loved her, she’d give them the chance to show her.

Despite pretending that they’d rather be anywhere than those lavish press events and award shows with their mother, they honestly got a kick out of them. They’d continuously dipped their toes into the fame pool — not to her level, no, but enough for them to have a large instagram following and some magazine pictures at the very least. They thrived in the attention these events gave them, feeling more important in that setting than in most others, almost like they were actually worth the space they was taking up. The only other thing that made them feel that way was Marley, and perhaps that was why the words that left their mouth didn’t feel so incredibly alarming. Almost necessary, which was absolutely a first for the musician. “What — that ain’t enough for you, princess?” Rizzo teased, as she straddled them, disregarding the lack of reciprocation. Marley didn’t recoil in disgust, didn’t walk out or protest. So, basically, that was just like saying ‘I love you, too’. Right? Their hands moved up and underneath her shirt, fingers grazing the soft skin of her back as they deepened the kiss. After a moment, they sat up themself, hand guiding her legs around their waist as they held her, mouth moving to the crook of their neck as they fiddled with the hem of their shirt. “Marley...” they mused, the name tasted sweet as it fell from their lips.

full name: Salvatore Giovanni Rizzo

nickname(s): Rizzo, Riz, Sal

age: 31

date of birth: April 1st, 1988

nationality: Italian

occupation: Unemployed/Jazz Musician

religion: Catholic

sexuality: Pansexual

hometown: Santa Monica, CA

current residence: Santa Monica, CA

financial status: Upper class

educational level: High school graduate

→ relationships

father: Salvatore Rizzo Sr.

mother: Donatella Bianchi

siblings: Half-siblings he has no knowledge of

relationship status: Single

when/who was your first kiss: Harriet Ellersby, sixth grade.

are you a virgin: No

have you ever had a same sex experience: Yes

do you ever want to get married/have children: Yes, but he is adamant that he does not.

what do you look for in a potential significant other: Longevity Sex appeal

→ personality

positive traits: Outgoing, free-spirited, quick-witted

negative traits: Impulsive, reckless, insecure

biggest fear: Being forgotten

what’s more important- sex or intimacy: Sex

do you believe in true love: No

have you ever been in love: Yes

are you a leader or follower: Leader

do you care what others think of you: Yes, though he pretends not to.

how do you deal with stress: Drugs

are you spontaneous or do you always need a plan: Spontaneous

→ misc

If your character could change one physical detail about herself, what would it be? Hates his nose.

What is your character’s favorite physical activity? Yoga

What is your character’s least favorite physical activity? Running

Your character comes face-to-face with her worst enemy. What is her first reaction? Throw some insults their way

What is your character’s favorite weather? Hot

What is your character’s favorite season? Summer

What is your character’s least favorite season? Fall

Your character keeps a photo album of memories from her lifetime. If she could only keep one photo, what would it depict? Him and his mother, somewhere in Italy.

Does your character keep any pets? No

What is your character’s fondest childhood memory? Going on picnics with his parents.

Someone asks your character to describe her family. How do they answer? It’s just him and Ma until the end.

Is your character a morning person, a night owl, or something else entirely? Night owl.

What is your character’s least favorite color? Red

A stranger makes a crude comment to your character. How do they react? Gives it right back to them.

Hanson took a deep drag of the cigarette as the flame lit the end; it’d been a rough day for everyone and he had a job to do. The office had been nothing but alive with new business flying through the door. Even on a day like this when everyone was walking the streets, heads hung low and a smile had been replaced with a grimace in the summer heat; Hanson was doing his job even as he bumbled from place to place. He gives a shake of his head and turns on his leather soul of his shoe around a corner. 

Phone being brought to his ear he mutters into the speaker “If anything happens, I’ll take the blame. And don’t you dare to try to put it all on you this time, don’t even fucking think about it.” Hanson stated bluntly under hushed breath as his almost black orbs shot up and took in his surroundings. The heat was becoming unbearable

‘‘Get yourself outta’ there, OK?’‘ He offers but his tone screamed demanding as he quickly put the phone down and shoved it deep within his pocket. There was a prickling sensation at the back of his neck as he turned and eyes landed upon those of another. Hanson had felt like someone had been watching him for some time. He offers a sickly smile in their direction.

‘’You’d be a fuckin’ shitty spy.’’ He called out as he took another long drag watching the smoke pool out into the cool air.

He’d initially eyed the male from across the way out of pure curiosity — he was a looker, sure, a bit old for Rizzo’s specific taste, though it’d never stopped him before. What really piqued his interest, however, was the urgent tone that emitted from his lips, words uttered that all but screamed I’m doing something illegal — he was far too used to it himself, but something told him that there was much more to the story.

Taking another long drag of his blunt (thank god for legal weed), Rizzo leaned back against the brick wall in the alley way, offering a mischievous smile once he was caught. “Good thing I left that pipe dream in the sixth grade,” he quirked an eyebrow, giving the man a once over. “You should keep a little quieter if you don’t want people up in your business.” He exhaled. “That being said...sounded like someone was in deep shit.”

Charlie: finalllly

Charlie: took you long enough.

Charlie: yes, i'll even break out the glitter.

Rizzo: i know i know

Rizzo: a vacation was desperately needed believe me

Hunter: You think I'm that easy, sweetheart?

Hunter: Is there anyone worth meeting there?

Hunter: Besides you, of course. 😌

Rizzo: apparently not considering i've never seen whats underneath those asos jeans

Rizzo: careful lowell. dont wanna get me excited too early.

@salrizzo

“Well look at what the cat dragged in. How was Europe?” Phobe asked not bothering to even attempt sugar-coating what she was thinking. Lowering her voice she as she approached closer to his body there was a subtle coy smirk on her features before moving past him. “Find any good drugs while you were away or have you actually been clean for a week?” She questioned in a soft voice so that he was the only one to hopefully hear her words. 

A mischievous smile spread across his cheeks as Phobe approached him, watching as she whisked past him with that not-so-innocent look on her face. “Missed me that much, did ya?” he smirked, crossing his arms. “Europe was fine, as usual.” He waved the question off mostly, figuring that being completely honest about the miserable bender he was on the entire time wouldn’t bode well for what he wanted out of the conversation. With a roll of his eyes, Rizzo stepped closer to the brunette. “Why? You lookin’ for a score?”

Skyler wasn’t sure what he expected, though this had definitely been part of it. Rizzo’s hands on him were always part of the deal when he showed up, and this time wasn’t going to be any different. Their argument during the holiday was seemingly in the past, but it wasn’t like they hadn’t gone longer without seeing each other. “Something like that,” he huffed, pulling one out and holding it up to show Rizzo before they could fall onto the bed, “Remember this one? You let me do you hair. It was the best look you’ve ever had.”

He took the photograph from the male’s grasp, a slight smile twisting along the corner of his lips as he examined it. “Mmh, it was a damn look alright,” he mused, working through the brain fog as the memories flooded back into him. His eyes flickered between the image and Skyler, unable to help himself and his lack of filter. “Why’d you bring these over, huh?” he asked with a chuckle, for once not sounding like a complete dick. “Your version of foreplay?”

@salrizzo

“I’m on the verge of saying fuck it and moving back to San Diego,” were the first words out of Marco’s mouth, which weren’t exactly very him. He hadn’t had the greatest day, though, and truth be told, he was at the end of his tether as far as his mom went. They were asking too much of him when he had absolutely no idea what he was doing and he wasn’t entirely sure he could deal anymore. He figured it anyone around here might understand, it would be Rizzo. Sure, they didn’t have the greatest relationship considering they were family, but they didn’t hate one another either.

Letting out a scoff, Rizzo took another swig from his handle of whiskey before handing it over to his cousin. “What the fuck is stopping you, then? They got a nice ass zoo down there. Good wineries...” he trailed off, letting out a chuckle before narrowing his eyebrows. Maybe him and Marco weren’t the best of friends, but they were family, so that counted as some sort of bond. “Someone piss you off?”

It was late, but Rizzo was far too jetlagged and wide awake to sit at home and wallow in his own anxieties over the argument he’d had with his cousin weeks prior. He was a little more clearheaded since getting back from his trip — still revved up on substances, no doubt, but having taken the correct cocktail to appear level-headed — and, quite honestly, he felt shitty. What else was new, though, right? Running his fingers through his hair, the musician let out a sigh before biting the bullet and knocking thrice on Sofia’s door, leaning against the frame as he waited for an answer.

“Before you slam the door in my face,” he began once she appeared, eyebrows raised. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry. Ok?”