#tshalloween

After Giovanni confronted Francesca about the raid, the party just wasn't quite the same. Though everyone ate, drank, danced, and in general had a good time, the little spat had been in full view of everyone and many couldn't seem to tear their minds off of it. Why was Giovanni so angry? What had Francesca done, if anything? Would the Lombardi and Macini go to war again? These questions and many more echo on the lips of many a Chicago resident, though answers so far have not been forthcoming.

Please note that if your character attended the party, chances are they were there for Francesca and Giovanni's moment, too! You're encouraged to gossip and speculate at will. ;')

- phnx

Before Francesca could get one word out, she was thrown against the wall behind her. Her back met the frame with a nerve wracking pound. Unable to contain the pain of such a blow inside, Francesca whimpered, focused on the hand that was gripped around her neck. Her eyes shot open, meeting a pair much darker, much madder than anyone’s she had ever seen. Francesca attempted to speak, but the realization that she was unable to breathe, let alone talk, quickly washed over her. Then terror struck, followed by an anger she swore most days to keep under control.

She kicked and shook her body against his hold, any attempt to free herself. Nothing seemed to work.

Francesca could feel her chest tighten from the lack of oxygen, and it wasn’t long before her legs gave out beneath her. Though, it was at that moment she realized they weren’t even touching the floor to begin with.

Why? That was the only thing on Roy's mind. Why had he stopped walking when he had tripped over Victor Madison's prone body in that alley? Why had he panicked, stolen a car, and had taken Victor to Grace instead of to a hospital? Why had he practically straddled Victor in nothing but a pair of tights and had given him his blood? And why did he care so much about if Victor Madison lived or died? Those questions had been tormenting Roy ever since he had woken up on a bed in the clinic, with Grace smirking at him for passing out. They had haunted him since he went back to his apartment and slept for nearly a day. Why hadn't he let Victor Madison bleed out, or at the very least, wait for Grace to stitch him up and then drive him straight to jail?

Here's what's happened since the last update. NOTE: This post contains spoilers, so if you’d rather just read without knowing what happens first, message me and I’ll be happy to send you links to pertinent posts without descriptors.

A recap of Wednesday night for those of you who missed it. NOTE: This post contains spoilers, so if you'd rather just read without knowing what happens first, message me and I'll be happy to send you links to pertinent posts without descriptors.

When the blade had slid across Victor's throat, he didn't feel anything. He wondered if he was perhaps too stunned to even feel it, the blood welling up and spilling over onto his collar and tie hot and bright, bright red. His whole body seemed to go numb as the realization washed over him that this was real, that this was happening.

He was going to die like this.

His hands scrambled for his neck when they were free, his first thoughts on survival. He no longer cared about the Macini dragging him about, only about being alive. His eyes met Armand's one more time before he was dragged out of the office, and he wondered if Armand saw fear in them. He certainly felt afraid, and with a slit throat it was hard to hold strong.

He was thrown into a car's backseat, and by then he'd lost enough blood to start feeling sluggish. He was having a hard time getting his thoughts together, but he knew he had to stay focused if he wanted to get out of this alive.

As if you're getting out of this alive.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to dismiss that thought. He'd seen a man survive this before, once, back when he was still green. He just had to stem the blood flow, had to get his fingers pinched on the artery or vein or whatever it was he couldn't think straight right now--

They were only in the car for a few minutes, though it felt like an eternity, and he was tossed out onto the sidewalk. His vision was blurring, but he recognized the building. The Lombardi tended to do business here.

I'm a warning, he thought bitterly as he heard the tires squeal off into the night. He wasn't sure if he was stopping the blood flow because his fingers had gone numb, and they were already so slick with his own blood that he couldn't tell the difference.

The pain settled in. The truth came with it.

I'm going to die like this.

His head felt heavy on the sidewalk as he closed his eyes, and he thought quietly to himself, I failed.