#imperaptorr

  Oh, he did worse. Much worse. The hissed ‘psst’ behind her was the straw that broke the camel's back and she rounded on him, ready to unload.

  “Do you have any idea who I am, young man? Any at all?” she spat, spinning on her heel to face him so quickly the carpet should have caught fire. “Allow me to educate you. I am the president's wife and if you wish to catch my attention, you will do so by saying ‘Excuse me, madam’. What is your name and rank? I will—”

  The smirk she got in return should have set her alight with rage, but there was something about it… It was bold, cocky and most of all familiar. A quick step brought her close enough to push the visor of the soldier's peaked cap up with a thumb, her breath catching in her throat when her eyes met cyan ones, cold even in their amusement.

  “I see.” Her voice betrayed little to anyone not close enough to detect the hint of joyful breathlessness. With firm, exaggerated care, she replaced the cap, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. Clever. No one looked at a soldier's face, they were the uniform, as indistinguishable from each other as ants. “Come with me. I wish to rest and I do not feel safe.”

  There was no need to grasp him by the wrist and tug him along, he knew the way. Maybe it was for her own comfort, a way to confirm the reality of him having returned. Either way, she walked as fast as she had in her ire, although she could have skipped all the way to the bedroom.

  Nothing could be more wonderful than the noise of the key turning in the lock behind them. For good measure, she left it there. The chances that Funny would return at this time of day were slim, but let him struggle if he did.

  “What the hell took you so long?” She had meant to scold him, but the happy twist at the end of each word ruined that illusion thoroughly. As did her radiant, relieved smile when she lifted the cap off Diego's head and tossed into a far corner of the room. Much better, the golden locks free for her to dig her hands into, pushing them away from his forehead. “You have no idea what I've had to go through for you with only memories to sustain me. You better be planning to make it up to me.”

Continued from x.

How joyous it was to see that instinct never faded from his mind. Still in tune with that beast deep inside; willing to obey, yet being so very disgusted by it. Had Ferdinand been a lesser man, he would have pointed and laughed at such a miserable reaction to his voice. As it was, he was of a higher class. One that expected more out of him.

"I want many things, Diego Brando." His words came out in such a sickeningly sweet tone, yet it held a bite underneath it all. "I'm sure you would be willing to give them to me, wouldn't you? High as you may stand on your pedestal, you know that you will always kneel to me. That will never change."

Diego Brando.

Her gaze traced the photo captured in the article. He was handsome and clean shaved, someone she expected to be a high-class member of society, watching the race, rather than being one of the jockeys to participate in it. To be expected, she supposed, what little odds she kept track of the racers, he was hailed as one most likely to win. He was, after all, a genius at the sport.

Not that it mattered. She didn’t fly all the way to America to applaud his horse-racing skills. No, her time and by all accounts Passione’s time was more important than that. She was more interested in what he could provide. Information and, perhaps if he was showing himself to be willing and malleable, a useful tool.

Handing off the newspaper to one of her two bodyguards, she debated how she wanted first meetings to be. Should she approach him with her guards; proving that she was armed, and meant business? Perhaps alone -- vulnerable, and lull him into a false sense of security through underestimation?

In the end, she decided on the latter; head turning, words short and succinct: “Wait in the car. If I haven’t returned within a few hours, assume the worst.”

Order given, she waited until the two guards disappeared down the hallway before knocking on the door one out of courtesy -- and then rudely inviting herself into the room, silently shutting it behind her and remaining at it’s frame. It didn’t take long to spot the man in question.

“Mr. Brando.” Trish speaks softly, trying to make sure his guard didn’t rise up. “ -- Firstly, I’d like to offer belated congratulations on winning the Steel Ball Run. Your skills were not merely scandalous exaggerations. If you don’t mind, I’d like to speak with you.”

 “ I know you’re there. ”, the words hung in the air, disrupting the calm silence of the woods. the uneasy feeling of being watched started only a little while ago, johnny electing to ignore it and carry onward under the impression of it just being a fluke. however the sensation persisted, activating the paranoia sitting within the back of his mind.

   it could always just be a wild animal, to which his words would mean absolutely nothing. that was unlikely though with the amount of enemies he’d gained over the course of the race. many if not all of them would jump at the chance to catch him off guard and on his own. he stopped his horse to listen for any other signs of life. who or whatever was following him was very good at keeping quiet. one fuck up though, and he’d know their location.

   the ex-jockey scanned the area over, his hand slightly raised at the ready in case of a sudden attack. “ Are you gonna come out so we can have a little chat? Or are you just gonna keep hiding like a coward? ”, he snapped, already fed up with the situation.

Dainty claps, she let her eyes focus on him, and if she hadn’t been surrounded by others, she could have thought they had met each others eyes for a moment. She’d be a fool to believe that was the case, though. She felt her wrist being gently grabbed, and she looked over at her father, who smiled at her as he encouraged her to stand and walk with him to where he knew that she would have the best chance to potentially speak with him. For now, they’d wait until those congratulations from others in their class finished, and only then would he pressure her to approach, and Milly would follow those orders without question, though her father standing close behind her, her mother slowly making her way down as well.. 

Gripping her umbrella more tightly, a safety net of sorts, she approached Diego, her eyes first landing on the horse beside him. “Um -- e-excuse me..” She would wait for him to acknowledge her, before smiling at him, “I just wanted to congratulate you on today. You were extraordinary as usual.”  

                            hot pants hovered her hands over the lit fire of their latest stop. taking in the warmth to fight against the cool breeze of the night, she let out a sigh, letting herself get lost within the flames view. between her and dio, it was eerily silent. the only thing that could be heard was the occasional rustling of the bushes and the crackling of the fire. there probably wasn’t much to talk about anyway, after traveling a long way all one can think about is the need to rest. at least with these few hours left, it’d be sufficient before having to set out again at dawn.

  Ah, but walking alone outdoors was a treat in itself, almost enough to make up for the pilfered uniform not quite fitting. Too tight around the hips, too loose around the chest; really quite a blessed girl that must wear this regularly. Hopefully the apron would cover it up adequately, those only came in a single size. Or — oh — maybe she was some poor mistreated thing whose mistress had simply given her her predecessor's uniform and was too miserly to have it tailored for a better fit. A poor girl with no choice but to put up with this kind of disregard for she would be living on the street if not for the weekly nickel she made waiting hand and foot on some terrible woman.

  The more miserable, the better. If it wasn't a princess fair and pale that won the prince's heart it would be some beautiful waif and it her current mode of dress, no one would think her the former. As long as she kept her head down, that was. At first she'd been pleased as punch with the disguise, congratulating herself on the fact that even her own mother wouldn't recognize her. That had quick proven false, even without her crimson lips, her mother very much would, as would her husband and a multitude of others. There hadn't been cries of alarm nor askance glances, but best to keep looking down at her feet demurely unless she had to cross a street.

  Of which there were many, carrying her farther away from her golden cage with every turn she took. Out of the way, perhaps even unsafe, but none of that mattered. She was off to see her prince and while he wouldn't whisk her away to a stately ball, she vastly preferred what they must both have in mind. All she had to do now was wait, if this was even the right corner. All the streets looked the same to her down here, so drab, what if—

  She didn't even have time to fully panic, the sight of a horse in the distance instantly setting off the fluttering patter of butterfly wings in her heart. This would be him, she knew it despite being unable to make out the rider in the overcast murk. None but a being so radiant as Diego would ride a horse like this, its white pelt practically glowing, out of place in their mundane surroundings. Fingers clutching her uncomfortable skirts, eager teeth sinking into her lower lips, cheeks a luminescent pink in joyful anticipation, she craned her neck for just a bit more visibility, giddy as a schoolgirl.

hot pants:     brb searching for my patience