~~ pastore

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carmine mancuso for vieuxcarrerpg

JACK.

𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 , at the main hallway of the vincelli mansion on saturday, september 20th, 1924 , the engagement celebration. for anyone attending.

when he finally emerges from the lavatory , he loses all the nerve that he worked up in front of the mirror. jack was only now fully aware of the fact that he was in over his head : the vast display of vincelli wealth was enough to bring the nausea back. not too long ago , he was tending to simpler business at a bar on the lower eastside of manhattan. after having his sorry ass saved by the newest matriarch of the rueng legacy , good ol' jackaboy found himself engaged to her daughter and their engagement party is at the vincelli's mansion.

oh , if only mam could see me now.

immediately , jack reached for an arbitrary drink because for the moment : he didn't care who's it was or what it contained. glass in hand , he downed the contents and set it back down where it was. he grimaced , whatever it was it was not champagne. only then , did he make eye contact with the presumed owner of said drink.

" i — " he hesitated for a moment before offering an apologetic smile , doing his best to put on his best façade. " — just robbed you of your drink , i'm sorry . " jack sighed , rather nervously. " i'll just fetch us another. " he turned a bit too quickly towards the champagne , but upon second thought , he turned back to face the other. " what was that , exactly? "

“It’s fine.” Carmine replied, the reluctance probably obvious in his voice. It took everything in him to not give the other man an obvious giveaway look on his face. 

VERA.

.

“No.” The answer that comes from Vera is firm, the corners of her lips twitching upwards as she speaks. “Not yet.” The prospect of the alliance would be a boon to both organisations - but Vera did not get where she is today by being trusting. She has never met a person who she had not made prove themself before offering them even the smallest degree of good faith. “You know as well as I do that trust is earned, not freely given.” Her hands clasp before her, and her head shakes slightly. “It is… kind of you to say. But I can take a break when I am dead. There is too much to be getting on with in the meantime, don’t you agree?”

He frowns as she disagrees, wondering if she would note and hold the fact that he mentioned something she disagreed with. He hoped not, but Vera held the power in her hands, not him. “I know. I do wish that you could just be a hostess tonight, however, and not have to be on guard.” Which was one way of nicely putting it. “I agree, ma’am. This alliance has only just begun.” He wasn’t sure who to trust when it came to the newcomers, in all honesty. He’d trust whomever Vera told him to, though. “I think that this entire party was put together extremely thoroughly. Did you do the planning yourself?” 

LUCIANO.

.

skeptical still, luciano shrugs as if to say ‘suit yourself’ and takes another swig from his flask without looking away from carmine. he’s been around the family long enough to earn his stripes which means he’s been around long enough to know luciano’s temperament tends to be more mercurial than reliable - a realization emphasized in the aftermath of the former consigliere’s brutal murder. what wasn’t bothersome to carmine could very well set luciano off. “did i steal your hiding place?” he doesn’t offer the flask, but doesn’t put it away either. “it’s stuffy in there with half of new orleans mooning over the house. what’s your reason?”

The better question was, did he need to keep an eye on Luciano? Not that he would ever tell the other man that he was watching him for the sake of their affiliation. “No, there’s plenty of other nooks around here for me to use.” The last thing he wanted to do was make a Vincelli feel like they were the inconvenience or anything. “It’s a beautiful house, I understand.” How someone could sound so ungrateful, he wasn’t sure. “Have you spoken to the Eastside Family yet?” He wondered about Luciano’s opinions when it came to the New Yorkers, if he shared the same opinions as his sister did.

ALBA.

Open. Date: Saturday, September 27th, 1924 Location: Drawing room at the Vincelli mansion The party was starting to get in full swing, the alcohol was free-flowing and the entertainment was beguiling everyone. Alba had taken a moment to herself, she was still really worried about running into anyone she knew. She had moved into a separate room, and when she stepped into it, she realised it was the drawing room. The books were a relaxing and familiar sight. Unlike home, there were so many books here, Alba took a moment to take it all in. She was lost in thought, so much so that she didn't hear someone open the door and walk in.

Alba jumped when she heard the door close, she turned around and wrapped her arms around herself as she smiled politely out of etiquette. "I apologise, you made me jump."

Even if he didn’t look like it, he was on the job. Vera’s words had repeated in his head for the whole evening so far. And when he found Alba in the drawing room, somewhat squeamish, he couldn’t help but wonder if she was up to something. “What are you doing in here all alone?” He knew the drawing room was probably one of the quieter rooms, but now with himself on guard, he wasn’t giving her the benefit of the doubt. Trust no one but family. That’s something that he kept true to heart. 

VERA.

.

Carmine responds as Vera thought he would, and though her expression barely changes, relief washes over her. She has spent years assembling a circle of loyalty around her, but the longer she holds power, the less she trusts. Perhaps one day Carmine will count himself amongst those she no longer relies on, but it is not today. “Thank you.” She nods her head, relaxing in her seat a little. “I can’t say for certain - I don’t know who will come. The New Yorkers, for certain, my brothers, and anybody who shows up who isn’t one of us. You won’t be the only one on lookout duty.” Diffusing her men throughout the mansion should be enough to cover all grounds. “I will be on watch too. Just like you. This is business, not pleasure.”

“How are you feeling about the newcomers? Do you trust them?” If she trusted them, he would too. God forbid he had his own thoughts. “I might not be the only one on lookout duty, but I’ll be the premier one for you.” He sighed as she mentioned she would also be on watch. It wasn’t his place to tell her what to do. Even just telling her to just enjoy herself. He was a mere soldier, falling in line to do what the bosses told him to do. Of course he wanted more, but telling her to enjoy herself probably wasn’t the best way to go about it. “I know there’s a lot of work to be done, but you do deserve a break at some point.” He hoped she did not take his caring for her well being as a sign of disrespect or weakness. 

VERA.

Closed Starter for : @soldcto​ Location : The Drawing Room, The Vincelli Mansion Timestamp : Pre-party, 6pm, Saturday, 27th of September

“I’m afraid I have to ask a favour of you, Carmine.”

Vera’s tone and expression is apologetic, as though she regrets having to ask him, but she is not sorry at all, and she does not expect that Carmine will require any apologies. There are many men loyal to Vera amongst the ranks of the Vincellis, but Carmine, perhaps more than others, can count himself as one of those most faithful few. For that, he has earned certain priveleges - including her trust. This is what drives her to call him to her, privately, to impose on him a most important task. 

“I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you the importance of having… a certain awareness of what happens here tonight.” She tears her gaze from him to look at the fireplace. It is new, as is the rug before it, but for a moment, a flash of the old, shattered and destroyed flashes before her. She pushes it to one side. “And so I ask you, as a friend, to be my eyes and ears. Enjoy yourself, by all means - in fact, I need it to look like you are. But be alert. Be on your guard.” 

She looks back to him again. “Can you do that for me, Carmine?”

He remains casual as Vera mentions a favor. The last thing he wanted to do was raise any eyebrows just in case anyone was watching in the shadows. Do what you’re told, it’ll all pay off. It will, right? “Always. I am more than happy to help you, Vera.” He thought that was a given already. He always wanted to be her eyes and ears, anything he could do to prove himself indispensable. “Is there anything or anyone in particular I should keep a keen eye on?” He asked, not really expecting her to have an answer for him. He couldn’t be everywhere in mansion at all once, but he could narrow his doings unsuspiciously. He didn’t want his efforts to be futile. “I will do the work. You should enjoy yourself tonight.” 

LUCIANO.

when: 27 september 1924 where: the vincelli mansion - terrace who: @soldcto

between the bevy of alcoholic drinks kept in his hand throughout the night and the flask the staff are unafraid to top off at his request, luciano feels better about vera’s little party than he did earlier. save for the smell of his breath, it’s hard to tell he’s drank as much as he has. like his father, holding his liquor isn’t a problem for luciano. he drinks more than he should, but that’s just because he needs more to feel the effects. as he likes to tell himself rather than bother with the science and whatnot of it. still, he’s felt vera’s sharp eyes on him every so often throughout the night and ignored her each time. but when carmine shows up on the terrace, he’s well convinced he’s an emissary for his sister. “if vera sent you out here to bother me things will go better for the both of us if you just go back inside.”

HUGO.

“only if you’re in better standing with any of the guards than i am.” in his defense, he had picked an officer that wasn’t terribly well-liked to begin with. he’d simply miscalculated in realizing how much pull that officer did have. their guards could think they were giving him a hard time all they fancied, but at the end of the day one thing remained unchanged: he would be free to walk away sooner or later and they would be stuck in the muck and shit for the rest of their lives. he took another drag on the cigarette and blew lazy smoke rings. “we could always steal it. he carries the damn thing everywhere anyways. break his jaw so no one notices he’s not playing it anymore.”

“I hate to admit that I’m not, in fact.” Which was something he’d rarely admit but they were in a vulnerable situation to begin with. “That’s not a bad idea but breaking his jaw’s the worst you could come up with? For what he’s done?” Just for playing that horrible instrument, he was ready to give the other man a death sentence. They were already in jail, after all. “What are you even in here for?” 

HUGO.

when: 1918 where: military prison who: @soldcto​

hugo had never had much of an opinion on harmonicas until lately. his opinion was that harmonicas now made him feel incredibly violent and he hated listening to them. as if on cue, someone began struggling to play one somewhere further down the block. he suppressed a groan and fished his cigarettes out, shifting to sit upright on the bunk as he lit one. “he either doesn’t have a cellmate or he has a deaf one.” hugo exhaled and looked over at carmine. “either way, it’s the worst noise i’ve heard in my entire life.”

Fuck this. Once again, he had been accused of some ridiculous claim. He had gotten into a few altercations, but and one may or may not have ended in a death. He would neither confirm nor deny. But the result was prison, which was not something he particularly liked. Though to be fair, most people wouldn’t. “I could make that into a weapon and get us the hell out of here if they let me have one of those.” And not just because he’d throw it at that other prisoner’s head. “Do you think they’d be so kind as to give us one?”  

INES.

ines wonders, not for the first time that day, how she has managed to go from being accompanied by a worrisome brother who would walk half a step ahead of her, glancing her way every so often to being involved in a brawling as vicious as the one instigated by a number of men opposing the vincelli rule. she has never had to think about what being involved with them would mean—no more than she thinks about the delivery of illegal alcohol from abroad that arrives every wednesday. there’s a certain rhythm to the way this world works, and ines is only all too aware of her place in it. the gunshots going off nearby are only further reiterating that before everything is plunged into uncomfortable silence once more. she lets out a shaky breath before focusing her attention on carmine: figures he’d make a joke in a situation like this. her top lip lifts in a silent sneer while she keeps to the safety of the ground in the hope that nobody would suspect her there. “you’re such a class act,” she whispers harshly; if only that were true. “if it’s not a big deal, what’s keeping you from running into the fray?”

VIRGINIA.

LOCATION: Aurélie & Nalini’s Apartment, Bourbon Street. TIME: 8:24pm, September 12th, 1924.  OPPOSITE: Open. 

     IT WAS COOLER INDOORS. The exposed skin of Virginia’s ankle felt the breeze trickle from the open window - was it not dangerous to have such exposure, when the street was amok with chaos? Likely, but this wasn’t her home. It wasn’t her concern. September nights had a penchant for varying between a heat she could barely withstand, and a cold that chilled her bones. Tonight had been closer to the former than the latter, but she knew that the rain would soon come. That was exactly what they needed in New Orleans; a little rain. Clean the streets of the blood it would inevitably be awash with, allow the sins to trickle away and seep into the ground. This home was not one that she necessarily belonged in, but it was the greatest option of sanctuary that she could find. At least there was alcohol, music, and enough company that surely boredom could not strike. Boredom.. so fickle an emotion, yet one which so commonly plagued her. At least it used to. Before Hugo, before the excitement and danger, before love and chaos. She had always been so bored as a child, money cannot buy happiness, after all. Though it certainly did make for a more formidable attempt.

     “You look like you could use a drink.” Though she practically prided herself on keeping her list of friends as short as possible, Ginny knew that at least having acquaintances, of recognizing faces in crowds, would always be beneficial. “Or well, I could use a drink and I poured far too much lime in this for my taste. You’ll take it from me, won’t you?” Doe-like expression blinked at the companion, arm half-raised to offer the gimlet in her left hand, slight pout allowing for her lips to part, an expression of innocence to hide a criminal.

He liked to think he wasn’t stupid. After the chaos that was going on outside, he had retreated to the apartment, knowing that hiding amongst civilians would be smart. No one would suspect a thing, right? He was still trying to get the sweat off of his brows, hoping that the adrenaline would soon seep out of him. Wishful thinking. He’d probably be replaying this night in his head like a mad man. 

After being offered a drink, or rather, the extras, he gave her a nod. He was thirsty, after all. Violence gave him quite the parched throat. And what better way than to down a cocktail? “I’m not too keen on sour drinks,” He admitted, though he did take the cocktail from her hands. It was typical of him to express his dislike of something before taking it anyways. “I’ll be sure to return the favor,” If he remembered. “Did you happen to be there? When the shots were being fired? I hunkered down for cover, I have no idea what happened.”