the outcome justifies the deed .

“so, i’m going to need the name of the other person.” is the first thing that kitty utters, her voice stained with vague apprehension that she fails to conceal. she turns at his request, leaning closer as her one hand anchors itself within the depths of his pocket, quick fingers now becoming deliberately slow. it’s an obscene sight to behold, a prolonged and indecent act, but kitty has long forgotten the true definition of socially accepted behavior and etiquette, or perhaps she never knew it at all. “what makes you think i forgot mine?” in an instant, with her other hand, she pulls a gold lighter with unfamiliar initials on it out of her beaded purse, shifting her gaze back at the cigarette between his lips before stifling a slight self-directed laugh. she flicks the lighter, watching the flame lick the tip of his cigarette with everything else around her momentarily neglected.

“gorgeous,” kitty says when she cants her hand to the side and pauses for a brief heartbeat to fish out the jewelry, making it appear as if she’s truly referring to the necklace in her hand. “you shouldn’t have, sweetheart. you’ll have to help me put it on. but first, let me inspect the cut.”

.

there’s no denying the hitch in hugo’s breathing when kitty’s fingers stroke against his thigh, just the slightest bit of pressure from her nails felt even through the fabric of his pants. just as there’s no denying the grin that wants, and does, spread across his mouth - so much so that he has to bite lightly into the butt of his cigarette to keep it tumbling free. “you tease,” he jokes softly, tipping his head to brush the side of his forehead against hers in thanks and also to keep his cigarette from burning her. it takes little action from her to get him wound up; a look, a tip of the head, the trace of her fingernail along the shell of his ear. it’s only his bloodied hand that keeps his paws to himself though he shuts the water off and offers his hand to her.

“your uncle likes to run his mouth and got his nose broken for it,” he comments, exhaling smoke out of the corner of his mouth and away from her. “it’s nothing serious. semi self-inflicted. i thought he’d like to wear his shit-eating mile permanently.“ hugo thumps ash into the sink bowl. personally, he thinks he would have improved vince’s appearance immeasurably; for starters, vince wouldn’t have to worry about his smile lines aging him so much. “let’s dress it and then we’ll put your necklace on. i thought it went well with your eyes and your dress, no?”

“light this for me, would you, darling?” hugo asks around the cigarette gripped between his lips. he’d do it himself if he had a third hand, if his - as of right now - right hand wasn’t occupied with washing clean the gash on his palm. a pilfered dress shirt from the mansion’s laundry, fetched by kitty, currently sits half-tattered to be a make shift bandage. whether or not they leave the party after this hardly matters to him, but splattering blood all over the place will beget more questions and he’d like to end their night without too much concern given to the baying hounds otherwise known as drunk vincelli foot soldiers.

he glances up at kitty’s reflection in the mirror before actually turning his head towards her. “my lighter’s in my pocket. along with a gift for you.”

CLOSED / @scofflawed​ LOCATION: The Reception Room at the Vincelli Mansion WHEN: September 27th, 1924

Alina’s been watching him — the boy with quick hands, reaching in and around unsuspecting guests as they mingle and laugh and fail to realize their possessions are being taken right out from under them. It’s almost comical, this little game he’s playing with himself. Her gaze has been following him all night, trying to pick up some kind of pattern to his victims or any kind of motive. In the end, Alina simply settles on the notion that he must just find this particular brand of mischief to be amusing. In all honesty, she does too — not that the stoicism of her features has cracked even slightly to show it.

But then he drifts a little to close to her for comfort, and her spine straightens immediately. She may find his little game funny, but no one will be laughing if she feels the need to slice one of those sticky fingers of his clean off.

But he doesn’t try anything, in fact he’s barely acknowledged Alina’s presence at all — which is fair, as they’ve never met and don’t seem to have any reason to ever meet aside from being thrown into the similar circumstance of being guests at her daughter’s engagement party. But in addition to guest, she imagines she could also be considered half of a host since it is, again, her daughter’s engagement party — and it’d be rude not to introduce herself. And if her introduction dissuades the boy from trying any bullshit with her, that’s simply a bonus. When a beat passes in the conversation the boy is having with another guest, Alina pounces, seizing the opportunity to make her presence known and introduce herself. “Alina Rueng, mother of the bride,” — step-mother, really, but that detail has never been important to her. Alina gingerly holds out a hand to accompany her introduction, a diamond bracelet glittering on her wrist in a way that makes her wonder if he’s at all tempted by the display. She certainly would be. “Are you a friend of the Vincellis?”

.

hugo doesn’t like being watched. never one to shy from attention, it’s more so because he’s not seeking it at the moment. he’s having his fun in a harmless sort of way tonight, keeping his hands clean in the sense that so long as he’s suspected and found with empty pockets there’s little that can be done. he likes to think he’s memorable with his handsome, impish face, but pickpocketing is a talent he perfected at a very, very young age. the free-flowing booze, he’s partaken but far less so than the others, helps too. but every so often he can feel that needling sensation of being watched and he doesn’t like that he can’t shake it.

so he adapts his game to try and see if he can figure out who it is he feels watching him. it takes a bit to whittle it down; half of new orleans seems to be crowded into the vincelli mansion tonight and they come and go frequently but he settles on who he believes to be the second player in his game eventually: a stranger in a sea of familiarity who makes a point of introducing herself.

or, as is not uncommon in hugo’s experience, an older woman with an appetite for younger men.

either way, he offers a charmingly quiet smile for alina’s introduction and takes her hand as lightly as she offers it to press a kiss, cheeky perhaps but he’s had his most success with a bit of that. “hugo. congratulations on the good fortune of your family.” he makes a point of not staring at her twinkling bracelet because he already spotted it earlier and came up with plans she’s currently derailed though he’s adaptable. scheming already about how to get it and leave it pocketed with a vincelli soldier or, perhaps, vera since she so clearly wants to impress alina reung. “a friend of a friend. the songbird from earlier, nalini, is a good friend of mine and i enjoy seeing her performances. did you get a chance to watch her?”

now they’re talking. vincent is still laughing, even after hugo lands a punch, he’s too drunk to actually care about the consequences of what’s going on and before anything else, the whole encounter is just funny to him. he imagines that hugo’s been dreaming about this moment for months now, he should be grateful vincent feels this charitable tonight as to hand him his own face on a silver platter like this. 

it’s been a while since vince running his mouth has been met with physical retaliation. usually he has enough common sense to know when to stop and walk away—his good looks are his number one asset and endangering them in a brawl never really pays off. but he doesn’t know better tonight. 

sirens do go off in his head when the glass shards get involved, though. he didn’t expect it to go this far. still, his face remains twisted into a grin, which probably keeps making things worse. he refuses to let hugo think he’s intimidating him, even when he is. “go ahead. that’s a one way ticket to the can for you right here.”

.

vince makes a point hugo’s already considered: there’s a limit to the amount of violence he can batter him with and still walk away without being arrested. not everyone has his understanding of violence, knows how self-serving it can be when doled out responsibly. it makes them, the people like vince - the people with all the money in the goddamn world, uncomfortable. they don’t know what it’s like growing up on the streets, becoming apathetic to it because of how frequently you witness it.

hugo smiles, a slow sliding thing that isn’t at all friendly when met head on, and adjusts his hand until he’s cradling vince’s face one-handed - glass shard pressed flat between his cheek and hugo’s bloodied palm. hugo presses his thumb underneath vince’s jaw, forcing his head up to look at him, while using his bigger size to crowd him.

“you think i’m scared of that?” he murmurs, blue eyes bright and shining. “when that day comes, i want it to matter. i want it to be worth it. this is just for fun.” his smiles brightens and before vince can shove him off hugo plants a kiss on his forehead, like they’re brothers or friends - like he hadn’t just been about to carve his face open, and releases him with a wild peal of laughter.

These types of social gatherings should be second nature to him by now, but he was never very good at the small talk required at these events. Vera tasked him with keeping everyone happy, and while he never expected that would equal five-hundred of his own dollars down the drain in a game of pool, that is where he found himself.

Hugo was easily an unpleasant companion–too slick in appearance and nature. Enzo had to wonder who exactly he swindled to get an invitation to his childhood home, but that type of behavior was both impolite and dangerous on a night when he was to be on his best behavior.

And so, although his instinct was to escort Hugo out of his house and get his money back, he took a note from his sister and played nice. “We aren’t really that type of family.”

.

“i can tell,” hugo answers, straightening and taking a sip of his drink. though he and his own brother are more frequently at odds than not as of late, they’ve always been thick as thieves. his brother’s given hugo everything he has, including an incredible amount of street smarts he’s sure to regret with how hugo puts his mind to use. were it not for his older brother, hugo wouldn’t be what he is today much less alive. he pockets enzo’s money,  traces the pad of his finger around the rim of the glass. “it’s strange to me, growing up with the brother i did i would have thought all older brothers were like him. generous, selfless.” he tilts his head. “do you hate him for not being that?”

“They really wanted to make a show out of the event, huh,” she mentions idly, her hand moving to reach for her cocktail as the bartender sets it in front of them. She sends them a polite smile as a thanks before she turns back to her yet to be named companion. There is curiosity on her gaze, she wants to ask his name, wants to learn who is the man she keeps meeting without meeting. He is a curious fella, after all, all polite but a hint of something underneath the manners that makes her pay attention. That tells her to be wary.  Curious indeed.

“We can’t say if it worked quite yet,” she disagrees with a sliver of a smirk on her lips as she looks around, eyes stopping on those who don’t move quite right. On people who move like they are packing. The Vincelli are armed, that is for sure, but she can’t quite tell if they are expecting trouble or is merely paranoia leading their hand. “The night isn’t over yet, and it could go out in flames before we realize it.  I wouldn’t call the night a success for them until tomorrow morning.”

There is a quick laugh that escapes her lips at his question, and she sends him a brief, yet unbearably sharp grin. What a question indeed.

“Well, wouldn’t you like to know?” It is perhaps not wise for her to let the question hanging, but she suspects where the man in front of her falls and well. A little truth once in a while won’t do too much damage, right?

.

“touche.” he smiles before taking a sip from his drink. not his favorite, but not horrible. he drinks quietly, watching her watch everyone around them and it could be innocent the way her gaze lingers on people but when he follows it he finds men and women he knows to be vincelli foot soldiers. it’s the same sort of way he stares during his illegal escapades - before and during, carefully evaluating who may be a threat or could become a threat to not only himself but kitty as well. even then, his concerns extend largely to her and ensuring she ends the day unscathed and a little bit richer.

he meets her sharp grin with one of his own, blue eyes sparkling mischievously, “well, that would be precisely why i asked.” he likes games of this sort, this little back and forth, when they’re with someone so clearly holding their cards close to their chest. as much as he’d hate for it to all come to an end, there’s something in the satisfaction of knowing that hugo deeply enjoys.

he gives her a modest once over, eyes never lingering uncomfortably in the way another man might - his thoughts belong solely to kitty -, in a way more of an appraisal of her outfit and belongings than of her. “you look like you belong with the gaggle,” hugo comments, eyes cutting to a swirl of young women he knows to be more focused on fiknding a handsome husband with deep pockets than anything else. “but would you enjoy their conversations?”

Her eyes drop to his hand, idly pawing at her cigarette case. It is yet another sign of his impertinence, she thinks, that he is in her house, speaking to her with presumption on his lips, while touching her things. If she didn’t have people inside the party that she wanted to impress, Vera might have reacted with a greater anger, but she has, so she doesn’t. In any case, a part of her thinks that anger is exactly the emotion he want to provoke from her tonight. 

“From what I hear, you’ve always been half-mad.” She points out. “Has boredom tipped you the rest of the way off the scale?” Her tone is careless, haughty, but she’s looking for the weakness in him, poking at various wounds until she finds the one that truly tugs at his ego. No man is completely without one. No matter how hard Hugo tries to pretend that he doesn’t care what she has to say, finding the right thread to pull is only a matter of time. 

When the go-ahead comes, Vera’s smile grows pointed. “I think that you’re nothing,” she begins, matter-of-factly. “You can overcompensate for that all you wish to, by throwing your weight around, by pretending your opinions are of any relevance whatsoever, or that you don’t care about anybody else’s, but it doesn’t change the fact that you are still nothing.” She folds her arms across her chest. “And I think it’s a pity - you could be useful, but right now, you’re a waste of talent with no ambition and no future. Talent can only get you so far. And if you have managed to collect a few misguided souls who think they care about you?” she shrugs her shoulders. “Do you really think they’d stick around when you take it too far?”

.

as both a younger brother and a professional shit-stirrer, hugo knows when his actions, however minuscule and harmless, begin to bother someone. vera doesn’t like that he has hold of her cigarette case. he imagines it’s important to her, gifted by her father or someone else of great importance to her. outside of her family, hugo can’t think of anyone who could possibly be close to her. when she starts in on him, hugo simply flips the case open and extracts a cigarette, slipping it between his lips and lighting it with his own lighter - never relinquishing the case as he resumes turning it end over end in hand with an air of laziness he’s quite known for.

if vera means to wound him, she’ll need to do better. it’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, surface level garbage about how he’s a street mongrel and how he’ll die just that. he can lie, cheat, and steal his way into nice things but he’ll never bleed the same color as the rest of them because he wasn’t born with a silver spoon. and maybe she’s right - he’d been such a nothing to the person who murdered his mother that they’d left hugo with her body: carrion for the buzzards and stray dogs.

he’s had twenty-eight years to come to the conclusions she thinks he's never heard uttered.

“wow,” he exhales, a chuckle and a cloud of nicotine all in one. whatever brand she smokes, he doesn’t care for. still, he’s committed to smoking it now if only because denying satisfaction to uppity bluebloods brings himself a great deal of satisfaction. “you’ve certainly thought a lot about someone who’s nothing.” he thumps ash into darkness, sniffs. “that last little bit though - i like that. i like that you and i see each other so clearly because i’d like to ask you the same thing. no one tried to overthrow your family when your brother was the heir apparent. and he’s quite the beast.”

“you finally remembered my name, i’m truly touched,” vince chuckles; unlike hugo, who’s visibly unhappy to see him, vincent sports a wide, bright grin. he’s hit the point of his drunkenness where remaining serious is not an option anymore; everything feels amusing and looks soft around the edges. perfect. that’s exactly what vince came here for. 

and the fight, apparently. objectively, vincent realizes how horrible of an idea this is but that part of his consciousness is out of commission right now. when the alcohol drips down his face, he can’t help but laugh. the sounds is loud and booming and he has a hard time controlling it as he wipes at his eyes—it stings and it takes a few blinks for his vision to clear. the grin never leaves his face; it stays firmly planted on his features even as he grabs fistfuls of hugo’s shirt and swiftly pushes him away. he doesn’t throw the first punch, mostly because he’d probably only embarrass himself by not even landing it properly. “how about you get me another one, huh? that’s all you’re good for.”

.

faintly, hugo can hear his brother’s voice telling him to walk away and he knows he ought to. vincent’s far drunker than he realized - the too loud laughter gives it away - and far drunker than vincent probably realizes himself. it’s the only reason hugo can come up with for the shorter man shoving him away - a move that only causes hugo to stumble a step before righting himself. he doubts the other has ever been in a proper fight; hugo could beat him into an early grave when he ought to be behaving himself for his brother’s sake.

but he’s wanted to hit vince for a long time now and if the trade off is letting vince think he’s managed to wound hugo’s pride in exchange for drawing blood, so be it.

closed to: @scofflawed​

no fight happened but vincent’s still here. he’s not exactly having fun but he is drunk and that’s as close as he can get until he finds zosia and gets on with the night properly—he’s in the mood to spread some stupid rumor for the fun of it but he knows he won’t pull it off alone. he roams the rooms, on the lookout for his partner in crime, yet another drink in his hand but absolutely no luck. he does bump into hugo on his way out of the drawing room, though. were he a bit more sober, he would’ve just ignored the kid but he’s drunk out of his mind and desperate for some entertainment. bothering hugo might just provide some. 

“oh, would you look at that,” he says in lieu of a hello, laughter lacing his words already. “who the hell did you steal an invitation from?”

.

his brother’s one request - that it had only been one and not multiple with how leery he’d been in handing over the invitations still baffles hugo - for tonight was that hugo be on his best behavior. he’s managed well thus far, opting to simply move small every day items across the house where they likely won’t be discovered for months and reverse pickpocketing things he’d pickpocketed from elsewhere. harmless fun. nothing no one will notice and well on his way to either continue it or collect his better half and depart when vince bumps into him. more strongly than he ought to, hugo shrugs him off and sneers something along the lines of “fucking drunk” with every intent of continuing on his merry way until vince opens his mouth.

“you’re one to talk about stealing,” hugo returns, turning fully to face vince - his least favorite person in all of new orleans. when it comes to vince, better judgment and best behavior both fade away. he snatches the drink from his hand, takes a sip and then splashes the rest in his face. “but that - that i stole. do something about it, scheißkerl, or fuck off.”

“That would be a Dark and Stormy for both the fella and I,” she nods at the bartender before turning towards the familiar face, all the while she holds back a sigh. As things go, the cat in front of her is not necessarily the worst of companions, but they had run into the other enough that he isn’t the best either. There is a keenness to his gaze when it falls on her that she doesn’t quite like. Not when there are things that she would rather keep secret than to let slip. Alas, he had begun a conversation, and she cannot be curt, doesn’t want to be curt. Not now, when she is meant to enjoy, not now when she is allowing herself the thrill of slipping through the halls of the Vincelli like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 “Likewise, stranger,” she says, and she can’t deny that she is mildly amused, of all things. “Both, or could you say neither? I got the invitation in Knock Five Times and curiosity brought me here. You?”

for the life of him, he can’t remember her name - or if she ever game him hers, even a bogus one if she had. rather than frustrate himself over trying to recall it, he shrugs the thought away with the actual shrug of his shoulders. “i think that’s the case for most of us.” a chance for the vincelli family to show off which only makes the rumors of the crowning of a new heir all the stronger. after all, it hadn’t been luciano vincelli greeting everyone with disingenuous greetings at the doors. hugo casts a glance over his shoulder, blue eyes roving over rotating faces and slowly returning to the dark eyes of his companion.

“An interesting perspective.” And not one Vera shares. She wouldn’t expect him to understand her own, though. She doesn’t know much about his background - but she knows he and his brother came from very little. They were not raised in power, and do not know the value of displaying it, to impress, yes, but also to intimidate. Perhaps he will one day learn, but Vera doubts it very much. Neither does she give away that any particular advantage she has relinquished by such a display won’t be missed - there are plenty of others in her arsenal. “Guess all you like. I’m certain the rumours will be confirmed or denied in time.” She flicks away the ash from her cigarette as she speaks. 

If she thought her words would be enough to dispel him from further speculation, she was wrong. Hugo poses a question to her, and the corners of her mouth turn upward in a mirthless smile. “Very perceptive of you.” She doesn’t mean it. “Nothing escapes your watchful eye, does it?” She isn’t sure why his interpretation of the night irks her so much - perhaps it is because he is right. She has much riding on tonight, and being reminded of such is hardly what she wants to hear right now. “By all means, continue to state the obvious.” She is dismissive, attempting to downplay his observation, even though she hopes that it may not be that obvious at all. “I’ve made a few observations of my own, about you. Would you like to hear them?”

the condescension in vera’s tone might bother hugo more if he were less confident in his observations, if her condescension didn’t match one of his many preconceived notions of her. she came from money and standing and she’d been raised to look down upon anyone who didn’t. her father’s money didn’t make her better than him. without her father, she wouldn’t be anyone meaningful which only reinforced the facts as he had come to see them: she needed tonight to be a success.

he couldn’t find it within himself to be sympathetic to the yoke she lived under.

“it’s amazing the things that intrigue us when we’re struck half-mad with boredom.” hugo smiles blandly. what other choice had he been left with in the wake of her rampage throughout the french quarter a fortnight or so ago? even he knew better than to risk running rampant himself while the nerves of the police were so already thinly frayed. that’s what it took, however, to leave him interested in she and her family. in a sense, she only has herself to thank for this conversation tonight.

“not particularly, no.” he flicks his finished cigarette off into the night and picks up her cigarette case, thumb smoothing over the sleek silver as he turns it over and over mindlessly in his hand. he’s nicked his fair share of these in his time. refraining from tossing it out after his cigarette butt, hugo continues playing with it while keeping his stare fully on vera. “i don’t really like anything you have to say, but in the spirit of fairness? you have my undivided attention. i hope you have binoculars up there on your hill, for the sake of accuracy. ”