Val Marshall

A chill bellows through the lower reaches of the deck, enough to remind Sera that she is exposed beneath the lapels of his jacket as fingertips tug it further atop the fabric of her undergarments. The reality of how near to death she’d come, how it almost claimed her in a similar fashion as twelve years prior on a warehouse floor… The capo does her best not to linger on such a thought because she’s in his arms and she’s okay; she’s holding onto something real and safety finds her for the first time tonight. “No hospitals,” but the protest is as weak as she feels, knowing full well that so much carbon dioxide in her blood stream would require medical intervention. “I don’t–– Maybe. I haven’t tried.” 

Disorientation overtakes a cunning mind, fogging all avenues of thought as she refuses to relinquish the ironclad grasp upon him whilst unsteady legs attempt to balance her weight. They tremble both from lack of oxygen and the latent adrenaline still coursing through her veins, propelling her into him momentarily as she rests her forehead against his shoulder. “Don’t let me die here, Val.” One breath. Another. She will get her bearings and walk off this damn boat even if it wrecks the brunette completely. Pulling away yet remaining close, she attempts again to venture out of this nightmare.

“Yes, hospital,” he didn’t care that she was afraid of them or hated them- she was going to a hospital the second he could get her properly on her feet- but she stumbled. And kept stumbling. And he wasn’t about to let her over-exert herself. So, he took a deep breath and knelt, “don’t let Zeph kill me for this,” and hauled her off her feet. One arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her upper back. “Hold on to my neck,” she was shivering. And yes, it was cold outside, but the chill on her skin was way too much. Don’t let me die here. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t let her die anywhere. 

@thehxtshxt​

As if it weren’t enough to truly be out of her depth, almost meeting one far deeper than even her own debt had left her far more irritated than usual at being called upon as she had. The lavish hotel and the dress that’d arrived at her door not nearly enough to swallow back the bile in her throat at being used as leverage one again. You could have died. Could have drowned. A thought that apparently didn’t deserve the time to swallow back and come to terms with before she was reminded that she was little more than a pawn in a larger game. Perhaps, the watery depths might have been a saving grace from the Casanova and his claws, sunk deep within the expanse of her lungs tightening with every passing moment that her refusal erupted across the lobby of the hotel. “I’m not fucking…” Her voice lowered somewhat, “I’m not doing it. I told you already, I’m done. You’re insane and you can’t keep doing this to me.” Adamant that somehow, it would leave some lasting impression on him, Nic drew her arm roughly from his grip to ignore his objection, the fervent hiss of threat that left his lips gone wholly unnoticed by anyone closeby; a lovers spat if anything. Certainly not something worth paying attention to, even as he reached for her and pulled her back. “Let go of me, you literally have what you want already, you don’t need me anymore.” Yet, the saccharine smile that split his features told her otherwise. “Security!” Certainly not her best moment, as those settled few and far between when it came to Monica Pelletier, yet it was just enough for the Casanova to draw his hand back, giving her just enough time to slip between other guests towards the exit.  Heels clicked notoriously against the marble flooring and truly, she might have liked to disappear beneath it entirely, but she’d never been granted such luck and surely it wasn’t about to start now. Though, perhaps some sense of light on the horizon for this moment, in particular, showed itself in a familiar face. One that gripped at her heart and forced her in a different direction, “Val, hey —.” Nic reached out for him, the curvature of her palm settling against his shoulder as she sought out something that might sooth the turning of her stomach. “Can we go? Can you take me home? Please?” The succession of speech far too quick for her to catch her breath, only.. her breath hitched on the look on his face that didn’t hinge itself on any sense of surprise in seeing her, rather… he looked livid. “Val?”

Opportunity often had a way of dumping itself in one’s lap if they were patient enough. If they waited just long enough, everything would click into place. Lavish Hotel bars weren’t Val’s idea of a great time, but he needed to scope a mark for the family and this was a spot they frequented. Hotel bars were subpar at best, and they watered the drinks down. Didn’t matter how much money was slammed onto the tables- the drinks were ninety percent water with barely enough alcohol to be considered drinkable. He’d wandered off from the mark to act as if he was interested in the architecture of the place and there- across the lobby, a beacon in the form of Nic called his attention. 

At first, he was shifting forward through the outpouring of guests to greet her, but the second he realized who she was with, he tuned in to the conversation. Tail end of it, really; he’d heard enough. You don’t need me anymore. Need her? What could The Casanova possibly need from Monica? And why was she so adamant that she’d given it? Torn between wanting answers from her and wanting to rip the head off the man who’d been grabbing at her arm, he leveled the glare away from her and to him. It screamed back off without him having to utter a sound. And then, he wrapped an arm around Nic’s waist and hauled her against his side. 

In. Out. In. Out. The rhythmic ebb and flow of her own breath is Sera’s sole focus as the room fills with movement, familiar features of Emir and the others obscured through fluttering lids. Unconsciousness threatens to overtake in every moment, despite the sweeping flood of oxygen which enters the engine room through its now open door. Someone’s moving her then, carrying the brunette into the hallway where she can inhale deeper, gaze more concrete yet still unfocused as more figures come rushing forward to assist in the rescue. 

Clarity comes in varying waves and her head rushes with the influx of breathable air, suddenly feeling as if she’d been underwater for so long and only now reached the surface. Someone is draping fabric over the exposed skin along her shoulders, unsteady fingers grasp upon the suit jacket before the profile of someone so near to her own nose becomes the only subject Sera can genuinely level upon. “––Val?” She surges forward to wrap arms around his shoulders as adrenaline spikes momentarily, realization over the nearness of their situation suddenly growing paramount. “Are they alive?”

The others. She needed to know.

@thehxtshxt​

Drunk could only last as long as his adrenaline would allow. Drunk stopped the moment he’d been confronted with the image of Sera’s body dangling in plain view of the people scattered on the main deck. The fire of his anger and depth of his sorrow and disbelief burned through every ounce of alcohol he’d drank that night until all he could feel was the unwavering notion that this wasn’t right. And when Luna came- half naked and screaming that she needed help, that they needed help- he’d never run so quickly to anyone in his life. Terror at the idea that she was really dying and not her costume on some unrecognizable body consumed him until he was wrapping his jacket around her shoulders and begging her to wake up. “Come back Sera, come on. Come back.”

The mild rage and loss of mild control from Val didn’t shock him. He had grown up with plenty of people like this and it’s why he’d told Raf that he couldn’t be trusted. He didn’t show emotion as he responded, his voice low and flat, “Are you finished?” He said and made a mental note of the comment on the gift sent, he hadn’t even picked it out himself. He had read the invoice though, so he knew what the reference was, his secretary had done well, “I meant no offense. First off, I am very sorry if somehow my gift offended you. It was your birthday, you got expensive alcohol and a nice glass. How very dare I.” He looked Val right in the eyes now, not backing down from the angered person before him. 

 “You throw a tantrum because of one sentence I spoke and you’re ready to just walk away from your job? This right here is why I said you shouldn’t be trusted. You’re a loose cannon and you’re so quick to anger.” Theo held the file folder out again, “Take the job. You can call me a prick all you want, but letting this go means the organization, this family is in danger of more coming out against us. My house is in order to protect me if this all comes tumbling down, cause you’re right, I am a prick. A prick who prepares for the worst, I am trying to avoid it coming to that for Raf. I am the one with my head up my ass, but you’re willing to put us all at risk because somehow I’ve offended you?“ This man was irrational and he really should be dealt with, he was showing Theo right now that Theo had been right about him all along, he was a violent emotional child, but one that was a necessary evil tonight.

Zephyr’s words from weeks ago pinged around in his head, overpowering the ones that Theo railed at him left and right. Cause. Intention. Target. Most importantly now, intent. And what he wanted to do right in this moment was knock Dalton straight on his ass and damn the consequences. Because he deserved it. Deserved to have a pounding jaw to teach him how to watch his fuckin’ mouth when he was talking. Despite that, he wasn’t going to. No matter how much his knuckles ached to feel the flesh of the man beneath them. No matter much they wanted to bruise and break something. He breathed. He ingested. He processed. Not that the ramblings of the lawyer made it any better. In fact, it added gasoline to the fire in his chest. Burned through the sinew of his resolve until he had to force himself to step backward because if he moved closer he would knock the man’s jaw right off his face.

Knowing he’s already allowed his emotions to fly to freely he intellectualizes momentarily, to distance himself from the situation. Focus on small truths. One, he’s being told to keep his temper in check by a man who had lost his when Roe had only been trying to explain hospital visiting hours to him. Two—this one is a little harder to admit—the advice is warranted. While usually reserved in what emotions he lets show, both his encounters with Marshall have left him feeling and acting emotionally unhinged. Something that, as Marshall has repeatedly pointed out, is going to cost him his life if he’s not careful. Three, if he wants the information, he needs to play Marshall’s game. If only he had a better understanding of how this game worked. By process of elimination, at least he’s finding out things Valentine clearly doesn’t allow.

It had been difficult to apologize, and the anger in his chest that he had just worked to quell flares back up as his words are thrown cruelly back at him. Luckily, anger is not the only emotion present and Roe feeds his confusion instead. How does Valentine want him to respond? The man rages when given boundaries he doesn’t agree with, explodes when challenged, and mocks anything he perceives to be a weakness. The man’s do as I say mentality is clear, but Roes never been one to play soldier, asks to many questions, acts with his own moral compass first. But Roe knows how to be a good student, a very attentive and hardworking one, who can absorb the knowledge and skill Marshall has to offer, and from there decide if it would be pertinent to use or not. He catches the wrap thrown at him, albeit more so due to the fact that it hits them in his chest and his fumbling hand is able to pin it against his body before it falls to the ground.

“Having manners and the insight to acknowledge when you are wrong is not weakness.” Roe counters, more of a reminder to himself since he’s not optimistic that Marshall will be budging on the subject. His eyes stair at the wrap in his hands. He knows what it is and what it’s used for, he just happens to be missing some crucial information of the proper way to do it and isn’t eager to be mocked for accidently wrapping himself up like some mummy instead of a fighter. He doesn’t agree with Marshall’s education style, but Roe’s still eager to prove himself willing to learn. Taking the other’s advice he breathes out before squaring his shoulders and meeting the other’s eye, “Let me see your hands. Please.” He hesitates before adding the last word, more subtle rebellion than politeness at this point, but still worth saying. Roe has taken loss and struggle and resisted allowing it to make him cold or cruel up until this point and he’ll be damned if Valentine Marshall is the thing that changes that. “I’ve never done this before,” he says, shaking the ties that were thrown at him. “I want to do it right, so let me see how you did it.” Unable to turn off the physician side of his brain, he also can’t help but want to get a look at Marshall’s hands to check for bruising and swelling. Even wrapped, the ferocity in which he was punching the bag earlier was likely to have had some repercussions.

Very rarely were people given an allowance when it came to Valentine’s rage. He did not allow much wiggle room for anyone, let alone strangers or even almost strangers. Roe was lucky and should count himself as such. The more he pushed, the less length he had left until the fire touched the dynamite. Roe struck him as a child, stumbling blindly in a place he did not understand. He made too much noise when he should be quiet. He didn’t know what to do.

And whatever compelled Valentine to help this innocent sod of a human being didn’t matter- he’d made a commitment more to himself than anyone else. Maybe he saw himself in Roe. The search for his own family’s killer coming up dry so often that he felt he was in the middle of a wasteland. And he’d known what that wasteland had done to him. He loathed to see anyone else suffer the same.

“You’ve never wrapped a sprain or broken bone?” He questioned, stepping forward anyway. Fingers spread as much as the wrapping would allow, he held his hands outward, palms facing the ground. The hitman was used to pain- used to feeling it in areas of his body that were overused from fighting and defending himself. His knees hurt when it was too cold outside, the joints of his fingers ached dully so often that he’d learned to just ignore it. He’d probably have arthritis in his old age if he ever made it that far. Twas the life of a man in his position.

When Valentine set the drink down, he didn’t even speak to the other man as he moved it to the coaster. His eyes never leaving the man before him, it was a posturing moment and he knew that Val was doing it on purpose. He gave a sort of half-smirk at the question, “That thing is Poseidon. He’s a Savannah Cat. Half-serval, half-domestic.” He took the picture off the small table next to where Val had set his drink, looking at his cat before placing it back down, “Valentine. Straight to business is fair, but I don’t close deals without a drink.” He stepped back from Val as he moved to his desk, grabbing a file folder off it. His step back to Val was with a purpose. 

 “We both know I haven’t trusted you, we both know we’ve had issues with each other in the past, I am placing my trust in you to take care of this problem. I’d prefer she was convinced to move to our side as it were, I’d like a connection in the Mayor’s office.” He handed the folder to Val, it contained pictures and all the information he had on her, his little problem child that had seen things she wasn’t supposed to see, meaning she needed to be dealt with somehow, “If you’re somehow unable to convince her, then yes, I need her to disappear and it can’t connect back to the Kovali in any fashion.”

They had been getting off to a fine start. Even if Val was playing the asshole card like he usually did in Theo’s presence. And he was happy to have a job offer after being out of commission for so long. He took the folder and opened it, prepared to scan before he stopped reading. Theo really shouldn’t have kept talking. The top cover closed slowly and he rested it as his side, judging exactly how he was meant to answer the last bit. Before his rationale could take over, he clenched his jaw and set his stance like he was about ready to completely wreck his entire relationship with the Kovali.

With her Vinny conversation concluded and the brunette stepping precariously around fellow pairings to exit the dance floor, Sera nearly missed the way in which another nearly demanded her attention. As if the pointing and snapping of fingers weren’t enough, his general expression and the beverage clutched within his palm told wonders about the state in which Valentine resided. Part of her almost considered feigning as if she hadn’t seen him at all, better to allow their momentary tryst and the subsequent fallout be forgotten; avoided even. Yet surely as she attended this event beyond her better judgement, the capo approached him at the bar. “You do realize that you can’t just call me over here like a dog, correct?” @thehxtshxt​

Recognizing her had been easy, not that he was looking. Okay, he was definitely looking. But he hadn’t tried to get near her for most of the night until he’d encountered Remington and then spouted his mouth off where he definitely shouldn’t have spouted his mouth off. Funnily enough, he didn’t take much away from the conversation except that there was a very suspicious looking ring on the man’s left finger and if Valentine had any smarts- which he did- he’d say it was a wedding ring. It certainly looked like a wedding ring. And the first thought he had about that particular gold band wasn’t to congratulate the man, but it was to ask the one person he knew would have a keener eye on what was going on. Had he missed a memo? Who knew.

Who: @isekovali​

No one had ever told Valentine that once you it a certain age, hangovers could last for longer than a few hours- and with the amount of shit he’d drank at the Halloween party, it was a wonder he hadn’t killed his liver that night. Two days later and he felt like he was still nursing a hangover. The color storms had passed but his head felt..tender in the wake of them. Bits and pieces of the night were missing- but he remembered vividly the body dangling from the ceiling and his reaction to it. A mistake, certainly, but it couldn’t be avoided. And the relief he’d felt when she wasn’t gone. The pills were almost a necessity now more than ever as he came to grips with his own inner turmoil. Sprawled across the tawny platform bed, he jolted awake at the sound of his door bursting inward. First instinct was to grab for the gun, but before he could, a hand wrapped around his shirt and he was drug out of the bed, flailing. “What the fuck?!” When he blinked the sleep away from his eyes to find it was Isek, he relaxed for only a second before the look on the other man’s face registered. “....you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Remington’s mood soured as soon as he heard the nickname, and he definitely hadn’t had enough to drink to deal with it yet. The words that left Val’s mouth, however, made Remington pause. “You…kill me?” The idea was laughable, considering Remington thought himself capable enough to see if Val was out to get him. Since the man was telling him this, he figured he wouldn’t go through with it anyway. “Who told you to do that, Val?” He stepped closer, voice lowered, “Hm?” 

“What? No. I have to tell Zephyr first-” he paused, clearly too bamboozled with whiskey to think any of this through clearly. “I can’t hurt you- you’re...you’re important. I just want to know why,” he gritted is teeth and checked his glass. “I would never kill you. You know that right? I hope you know that. If you don’t know that, now you do. Just remember I wouldn’t. There’s nothing anyone could ever say or do that would make me even think about killing you.”

Just as quickly as the tender confession escaped her parted lips did he swipe away his hand, as if her touch were poisonous and she herself leaked venom with every passing word. “It isn’t you I wish for more from.” It was her, it was always her. How much more satisfying this moment might have been were she not anchored in place by a paralyzing fear of intimacy with another beyond what she knew. Zephyr had existed as familiarity, comfort, a stable figure whose touch reminded her of a safe haven amidst the darkness from which he saved her. Isek also resided in a similar vein, their unspeakably close friendship having allotted for a certain brand of trust to bloom. Beyond them she was lost, beyond them she held no semblance of what true vulnerability might entail.

I just wanted you to know. I couldn’t bear you not knowing anymore. Not knowing what? Did this… Did it mean something deeper than something as simplistic as a kiss? She felt foolish for not having recognized the signs before, but to her own credit, Sera never anticipated that anyone might carry some variation of a torch for her. Especially not when they became familiar with her past, nor when the pair of them were just coming off three weeks of radio silence following a massive argument. Yet here they remained in a luxury car which felt overwhelmingly, suffocatingly full of her own wide eyed realization and his chagrin over this lapse in judgement, only made worse as her partner for the evening sought solace beyond the realm of the vehicle.

Hues bore into the windshield in front of her as she sinks back into a seat which lacks the appropriate comfort at a time such as this, unfocused gaze now recalling each and every one of their encounters to pinpoint where this might have begun. How she could have been so blind. It takes a few moments to recenter herself on the task at hand, pivoting within the driver’s chair to instruct Valentine back into the car when she notices the sizable distance between himself and their stakeout point. He wouldn’t just–– no, he couldn’t leave her behind tonight. Not after that, not when a thousand questions flittered throughout her mind without answers. Just as she emerges from her own side of the vehicle, another shadow catches the capo’s attention.

Valentine is trekking away from her, and he isn’t alone.

It isn’t you I wish more from. Of course it wasn’t. Because she deserved better than him, better than any of them. To be plucked from her life and given a fairy tale dream only to have it ripped from beneath her feet the moment she set foot in Chicago and then groomed to become a killer- she deserved better. Azra deserved better. And he would stand by that affirmation until it killed him. It would be the hill he would die on without regret. Sera was good, so good beneath all of it. As if her past could somehow taint his image of her. Never. Nothing she ever did could change how he saw her. A guiding light that he might reach for until it was all over. And still, how he wished he could cut that part out of himself for the safety of them both. For the sanity of them both. Zephyr might surely have his head for this one.

The draw of footsteps made him sigh heavily in the chilly air, exhaling a cloud of heat from between his lips and he stopped, “I just need some air-” he thought it was her following behind. Had been sure of it. Until the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his neck and adrenaline kicked it’s way into his veins like someone had shot him up with it. He turned, and in a flurry of movement wrestled with his would be killer. Grunting as he threw punches into his gut with enough force that, to the untrained ear, might sound like gunshots all their own. Their face was shrouded in darkness as they were trapped between two street lamps. Whoever it was had perfect timing. But it was sloppy to attack someone less than a block away from a police station. 

When the man he expected opened the door, Theo glanced slightly his direction. He was tall, well built, an air of confidence around him. He had something of a golden aspect to his hair. Theo took in details, details he knew already but could never really stop himself from checking off a list when a new client walked into his office. Though this was no client, truly if anything this was an associate and one that Theo needed now. That fact alone made the lawyer inwardly cringe. Trusting another person to do his dirty work, especially one not on his own payroll was difficult enough. Getting used to the life of this family over the last decade had not been an easy transition, but it had made him remarkably wealthy and that was a very nice perk. 

As he rose from his chair, Theo paused to grab the decanter and pour a second glass of the whiskey. No deal should be made without a drink. After carefully pouring the second glass, he moved to his feet. This was dirty work but that didn’t mean it had to feel dirty. Moving across the floor he paused in the dim firelight behind him, taking Val’s look in once more but this time with a more watchful eye. Theo himself dressed in his suit from the day, though his tie was gone and the front hungry slightly open as he’d been relaxing, as much as possible at the end of the work day. He didn’t seem tensed or in some fashion ready to attack Theo, not that the scenario was an immediate concern in his mind. He was attractive, might have made for a good weekend distraction for someone, that wasn’t why Theo needed him but he could see why someone would make the decision. 

“Yes, I was,” He said with a lift of the second glass of whiskey out towards the man but not crossing the distance of the room towards him, “I have a job that needs handled quickly, quietly and with a large amount of discretion.” Those worse fell from his lips with ease. He cocked his head just slightly, “It is a job involving a girl, something I am sure you can handle but my private investigators have failed me. That leaves me with you.”

Valentine preferred not to step further into the office. He hated the plush carpet, how it smelt of a mixture of cologne and cigar smoke- possibly from a candle hidden somewhere or because the man inside of it just radiated that pompous air. Seeped out from his pores. And he knew that by his continued stance at the door, he didn’t have to voice his discomfort with the entire situation. As the drink was offered, he inwardly groaned and finally moved over the threshold and shut the door behind him. He hated the long look Theo had given him, as if the lawyer had any right to place some sort of judgement on him. Or right- he hadn’t stopped judging Marshall since he’d stepped foot into the family. One would think that being brought in by the underboss would give him just a little bit of room to move around but apparently that wasn’t, or ever would be, the case.

He took the glass reluctantly and did not sit down. That leaves me with you. “Wow I’m so fucking touched that you thought of me,” he quipped, placing the drink beside him- off the coaster- before tucking his hands into his pockets. His gaze travelled to the cat figurines and then the photo of the actual cat he owned.  “What the hell is that?” Looked like a baby tiger if he was being quite honest, no a leopard- didn’t matter, point being it was big and he did not like it. At all. Who knew he wasn’t a cat person. “And what exactly do you need me to do with this woman issue you’re having? Kill her and hide the body? Or make a display of her?”

Remington wasn’t sure what had possessed him to show up – despite the fact that it was expected of him. He’d tried to keep to himself, but the moment he heard Valentine’s voice, he knew he’d been outed. Now, he stifled a sigh, turning towards Valentine, “You ask so many questions, I’m surprised God had enough inquisitiveness to give to anyone else.” He glanced at the glass, taking it after only a brief amount of hesitation. “Thanks. Fine, what do you want me to answer this time?”

“No I think- I think you’ll like this question, Remmy,” Val knew he hated the name but at the moment he was a little too drunk to care and honestly it was such a long name. “I’m just curious as to why someone would want to kill you. Besides the obvious reasons, you know. I just think it’s a bit weird-” he downed the whiskey, leaning against the railing for support, “that someone would want me to kill you?” This was definitely the wrong time to have this conversation and they most certainly weren’t in the right company, but he considered Remington a very important person in his life and he wasn’t about to let it go. “So yeah, there it is. Good question, huh?”

Who: @rxmington

After half the evening spent avoiding the elephant in the room dressed as the black swan, Valentine found himself standing at the edge of the boat to watch the water. A little bit drunk- as it swirled- a lot drunk. Masks were stupid. This whole thing was stupid. He half expected the thing to blow at any moment given the Faction’s idea of fun was planting bombs everywhere they could. Although, the idea of sinking down to the bottom of the river wasn’t exactly a terrible one, he wasn’t about to hedge his bets on this chilly night going swimmingly well.

He’d also never understood the reasoning behind wearing masks- it wasn’t like covering up eyebrows and cheekbones could sully an identity. He’d recognized the lot of them without even trying to. So when he looked to his left and saw Remington, he almost smiled- until he remembered. Careful to approach when no one was paying attention, he grabbed a glass from a waiter and offered it over. “I’ve got some questions and you are the only one who can answer them.”

It’s the touch which stuns her into silence, tenderness and unanticipated affection beyond their usual friendship enough to force confusion’s blossoming within the pit of her stomach. She cannot understand the gesture nor where it stems from and prepares herself to stifle this moment by inquiring further when the most unanticipated movement alerts her attention. Just long enough for hues to widen slightly before catching his kiss with the slightest gasp, fingertips instinctively reaching forward to palm at the planes of his chest and force him away, but no effort exerts from her fingertips. 

Instead they trace over the contours of his collarbone and drift higher of their own accord, along the tendon between neck and shoulder before resting finally at the back of his head where they curled into his hair. Encouraging him closer, deepening the kiss as if such a thing were possible. A piece of her always awaits it, the indication that this is not enough, that the other individual seeks out more from her, but such anticipation never comes from Valentine. Instead Sera feels as if she is granted the reins to explore, to test his boundaries and take control of the situation. The hand which formerly braced her against the center console now fists at the fabric of his shirt, nearly wishing that it didn’t exist in the first place.

Never able to fathom that anyone might hold such emotion towards a woman whose memories and body were tainted with the hauntings of her past, marred by the poor handlings of those who never cared enough to behave otherwise. She is weighted by baggage and the sins carried out in the name of survival. For as much as she wishes to rebrand herself, Sera always remains, on some level, just a traumatized girl who has committed atrocities in the name of blind loyalty. Yet, for a moment, she is free of the burdens which remain heavy in the frayed edges of her mind and can truly believe that she deserves this. These beautiful, blissful few minutes in which someone sees her for who she truly is and wants her in spite of it all.

There is one other who saw her, though. One other who offered himself to Sera as if she were owed such adoration. Cared for her, protected her, and on some deeper level… Perhaps even loved her. Someone that, despite their distance as of late, would always hold the most paramount position in her heart beside Azra. As soon as the Underboss’ features come to mind, their kiss breaks. She pulls back far enough to clasp his palm between her own and plant a gentle peck against knuckles which had seen far more violence than kindness in their time. "I can’t… I just–– I can’t, Val.”  For as much as she might feel an undeniable connection to Valentine, the one held for Zephyr outweighed nearly all others. “I am so sorry. I wish that I could, I wish,” that I had more to give, “for a lot of things.”

Though it only lasted a few minutes, it felt like forever packed into such a small moment. The gasp of surprise almost made him stop but the second her deft hands found their way into his hair he was powerless. Submitting to the guide of her fingertips and how soft her skin was against his palms. And he felt it- the moment she’d realized what he’d always known. He would never be Zephyr to her- and he didn’t want to be, not really. As soon as she pulled away, he looked toward the dead street and wished he’d never had the gall to step over the carefully crafted boundary. The soft brush of her lips across his palm was enough.

If only she’d stopped at I can’t. If only she’d just let him have this one moment without the thought that anything else could possibly ever come from it. He was fine with shattering his own image in her eyes. At least, at least if he’d spurned himself into some kind of monster he could learn to use the claws to tear out the feelings he had held onto for so long. They were crippling. She was the drain he circled and he could only hope that she wouldn’t make it worse without knowing that was exactly what she had done. Hope was so dangerous. It blossomed when she’d finished speaking and he just shook his head.

          Vinny was consumed by the Chicago Philharmonic; it made him forget about the swaying yacht and the peering eyes. He’d already overheard the voices of what had to be inconspicuous Kovali, whom which he couldn’t recognize due to both their unfamiliarity and masqued faces. Their distrust and overall critique of the prospect even being allowed on the Charon was made crystal clear. For a while he’d be unknown, his flamboyantly colored mask erasing his identity from the crowd, until he had to take the stage in place of the Chicago Philharmonic and create a melodic atmosphere that would keep everyone’s eyes off him. Last minute weren’t the words he’d use to describe his attention toward the party, because before he’d been abruptly asked to cover for the DJ whom had bailed on the event, Vinny had hardly let the matter crowd his mind.

         His fate changed in a split second. It was enough to flare his anxiety and paranoia to extreme levels. He had to treat it like a job— like his normal, unremarkable job. Although there was bound to be unwanted company present. Purgatory was a safe space, filled to the brim with Kovali associates and various untouched citizens of Chicago. It was his job to find a home in a new and uncomfortable environment. He took little solace in the fact that it might not be so hard; he’d been uncomfortable ever since he pulled that trigger at the Taste of Chicago. There was so much unease that he hadn’t noticed the new figure beside him, their consciousness seemingly elsewhere for the time being. Vinny, drink in hand, a horrible way to start the night, turned his head to the side in greeting. “What’s the worst that could happen?” He chatted, nervously before the glass reached his lips.

There were a great many times that Valentine had been drunk. During those times, he had not intentionally gotten completely shitfaced- nor had he ever planned to. But the moment a Halloween party had been mentioned, he knew he had no choice but to attend. He couldn’t leave Vinny alone in a crowd of people who might recongize him and potentially attempt to harm him- and once he was well and certain that the chance of that happening was set to zero, he would be able to get so wasted he couldn’t feel his face. He had lied to himself the night he’d been in the car with Sera. Lied to himself and tried to make it out to be some slip of his resolve- like he hadn’t been thinking about what it would feel like to kiss her long before then and he;d continued that thought wave. Like he didn’t brace his knuckles against his lips to stop the tingling that simply wouldn’t fade away.

He should have been elated about it. But he wasn’t. It shattered him deeper than he thought he could be because he’d known before he’d done it what the outcome would be. There was no comprehensible world in which they could be anything other than a boss and her subordinate. It was work. At the end of the day that was all they could ever really be. Two adults who worked together. And it fucking wrecked every piece of him that had ever been exposed to her. Right down to the tips of his fingers. So, as he’d stepped onto the yacht with a disguise, albeit not a very good one, he’d searched the room for the one person he felt comfortable enough with to be around at the moment. He took a wild guess as he saw the flashy face. The path around him cleared pretty quickly, and he grabbed someone’s drink from their hand with a grin before stepping up beside Vincent.

“Really? What the hell are you wearing, Vinny?”

The office was flickering with firelight. The gas fire melded into the stone work along the wall seemed to give a comfortable ambiance in the dark night. It was definitely after hours here at Dolion and Associates. Everyone except for Theo himself had gone home, he preferred nights such as this, when he could be alone with his thoughts. His open cases sat scattered across his desk, a second pile of potential clients and information on closed cases lay across the back table. The office was decorated in warm mahogany and unimposing white walls, except for the black accent wall along the side with the fire place. 

Purple drapes hid the world of Chicago outside from view in the high rise office. In the center of the room sat Theodore Dolion. Sitting in one of the two guest meeting chairs near the fire itself. Shadows danced as he sipped the warm whiskey he kept inside the globe, that was in reality a portable mini bar. He usually had it over ice, but didn’t feel like tracking it down tonight. He was waiting for a man he had summoned. Valentine Marshall. Not by any means was this Theo’s favorite person in the world. 

Val was a hitman, a low member on  the totem pole and one that while his King insisted that he could be trusted, Theo was convinced otherwise. He was a loose canon but his private investigators and informants as a lawyer had failed him. Elizabeth Conrad was on the lamb, a page within the Mayor’s office, she had managed to escape after finding out a piece of crucial information about the Kovali family. It was possible she’d gone to the cops and gone into protective custody but his informants definitely didn’t seem to know of her coming through the police headquarters, so it wasn’t likely she was with them. 

That lead to a problem. Theo needed her to either come in willingly and swear allegiance and to the Kovali, giving Theo info on the Mayor himself…that or she needed to be silenced in any fashion possible. Either way, Theo was running out of options. That left him with Val. He has a distaste for having to put his trust in someone that he didn’t know that well or wasn’t sure could be trusted with Kovali business in general, but desperate times called for certain measures and strings to be employed. A knock came at his office door. This was either his secretary back for some reason or a Kovali member who had a key to his office, either way he wasn’t concerned, “Enter.” He called out from his chair, not moving to answer the firm knock.

@thehxtshxt

After an all too eventful weekend, Valentine wanted nothing more than to be crashed out on his bed at his apartment. Instead, he was facing too many calls and text messages that he would have rather not answered. It was a hellscape in his head at the moment- and if he heard one more time that Theo was looking for him- he might actually blow a gasket. The fact that his own name had come up in any conversation dealing with Theodore made him insanely uneasy. The man might not have remembered what he’d said to Valentine years before- but he did. And the last fucking thing he wanted was to be alone in a room with someone who would sooner see him dead on the ground than raise a hand to help him. The fact of the matter was, he was tired of being viewed as untrustworthy by the Underboss after all the work he’d done with everyone else.

Of course, Val had never made a move to change how Theo viewed him. He’d judged him right off the bat and that had been enough for the Hitman to be content with allowing the continued skewed vision that the Consigliere had of him. For a lawyer, one would think he’d be better at reading people. Barring all of that, he had a job to do and while Theo may hate him- he wasn’t here to be liked. He was here to snuff out anyone that might pose a bigger threat than the imagined one lain at his feet. So when he’d finally picked up the phone to find the most recent text being about his need to meet with the Lawyer, he groaned inwardly but made his way there anyway.

After the command to enter, he opened the door and peered in, leaned casually against the jamb. “I heard you were lookin’ for me.”