#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.”

“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?”

zosia never met a stranger. she made friends - for life, for the night, for five minutes - with everyone she met. some of them she never met again; others she ran into on a regular basis. carmine mancuso fell into the latter category. a smoking friend, a knight in shining armor who always had a light on him whenever zosia seemed most in need of one. tonight was no different. the shake in her hand from bumping into vera vincelli hadn’t quite gone and she needed nicotine but even lighting a match seemed impossible to do. “how is it that whenever i need a light for my cigarette you’re always the first person i see, carmine?”