#starcrossedlcvers

“You knew what I was, didn’t you?” 

Doppio wasn’t sure if Diavolo was lucid or not. He didn’t really care. Sometimes he just had to talk and fill the silence. If an answer was going to come, he would appreciate it but nothing was lost if not. 

“That I was part of you, I mean.”

A new recruit to Passione but already becoming well known. Once his father started succumbing to the effects of Manic Depression, people started to ask things. With drugs scarce, someone who was so obviously a junkie was drawing attention. And Massimo wasn’t one to turn away money. Everyone knew that Passione had dismantled the drug trade but the blond wouldn’t call himself especially loyal to the mafia that basically owned him. 

He scrunched his face up in response. Maybe he wasn’t as strong as Risotto but he wasn’t going to be looked down on! He needed to prove himself.

He was a fresh face, one she hadn’t seen around here before. A look at him could tell that he wasn’t used to this type of scene, that he was a first timer. Interesting, it had been a while since she had seen one such as himself. Not that she was complaining, and not that she would pry as to why he was there. That was his own business, and if she spoke to him and he wanted to tell her, then he would. General rule of thumb in this place was let each be as open as they chose to, and most didn’t. 

So, she would approach him. Stoic, his expression was seemingly neutral, and she was having a difficult time getting a read on him and what was on his mind. Yet another thing that wasn’t uncommon here. They were all there to make money, and that was what they would do. Arms crossed, and she took a look around at the others, all keeping neutral expressions. Employees had come and gone to this club many times, most never stayed for more than a week. Midler was one of the exceptions, she considered this a second home of sorts. 

Her expression was different, though. Instead of straight faced, she’d smile at him. The closer she got to him, the more she appreciated what she saw. He would do well, he had the looks for it. And perhaps his rather indifferent expressions would go over well. Women had individual tastes, sure, but they were all too familiar with the smiling faces of men. One with a more mature demeanor may work out in his favor. 

          How long had it been? How long since she left this room? 

Sunlight peaked through boards that lined her windows, curtains framing the wood that rested against. Nails were crooked, and she had to have traced them with her eyes at least thirty times just in that day alone. Were they strong enough to hold? Fingers traced the tips, nails having been bitten down enough to bleed, and her hair was knotted. Could a brush even be ran through it again?

Bare wall mocked her with a dusty outline of where furniture had once been, having moved it against the door of her bedroom. Bookshelves, dresser, it never felt like enough to keep her door closed, even with the locks on it. She left only enough room at her brothers insistence to let him bring her food. 

                                     Her brother. Jean-Pierre. 

She heard the doorknob rattle, and she looked towards it. Heart raced, no matter how much she knew it was only him, there was that doubt in her mind. Even when she heard his voice, even when he pleaded with her to come out, she couldn’t. When was the last time she heard her own voice? Days and nights ran together, especially with how she blocked off windows. 

Anger, it was a feeling she knew too well, but even more than that, she felt fear. A never ending paranoia, a never ending emotion. It was always there. 

There were those knocks again, he was still trying to get in, to get her to talk to him. What could she even say? What was there to say? 

                              What would he think of her now that she was tarnished?

[Is it alright if I have a thing with Tonio?]

        It was a new little bistro, and yet everyone who had been there in his office raved about it. The food was excellent! The chef trained in Italy! They had never felt better after a meal!

        What better place to go for a weekend lunch, then?

        Yoshikage decided to go alone; no need to subject his current paramour to a potentially mediocre experience. The small restaurant was located by a cemetery as well. Surely She would take issue with this. But he? It was almost charming. Was this man Lector in disguise? How potentially fascinating.

It had been at least one full week... At least one week since Mei started her new project: to catch a photo of that man in white. Tall. Muscular. Intimidating. Those clothes! There was an aura around this man that Mei desperately tried to catch on film....

But....

“ Are you trying to insult me?! What kind of filth did you just hand me! ”

There’s no better way to stir up delectable drama and attempt to weasel a free late night meal than by being this dramatic. A foreigner such as himself feigning higher riches and glories than he actually holds makes such a sly con a practice. Just act loud, cause a scene, don’t let up or back down, and eventually the manager will be dragged out with apologies on their tongue. Quick, simple, and clean. Just the way he’d enjoyed everything in life.

So when this strange, towering man of muscle sets down a cup of coffee, it takes only a sip before he decides--yes--it’s time to start a scene. Even if this barista is appealing to the eyes, there’s no way in hell he’s paying for such cheap tasting coffee.