— 🔥 𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔬 & 𝔧𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔢𝔯

His sunglasses obstructed her view of his eyes, an unfortunate disadvantage. It was always easier to tell what a person was thinking when you could see their eyes; even the most practiced actor had to work to keep their emotions from being displayed there. Granted, her own sunglasses obscured her hues…so for the time being, they were even. Nina smirked and pulled the glass back toward her. “I suppose I’m just too generous,” she countered with a casual shrug before taking a long sip. “Well I’d certainly be hard to miss, hmm?” She speared a piece of fruit with her fork, chewing slowly before responding. “It’s about time I joined a place like this. I was out of the country all of last summer. This,” Nina gestured around them with her fork, “is charming. Not quite a tropical escape, but it will do.” She studied him for a moment; a cool breeze seemed to pass between them. “You don’t always dine alone, I hope? That would be a shame.”

As Nina gestured, Rigo's own attention flickered around the estate, lazily. She was mostly right. This time of year, and even into the fall, it was a beautiful place. The lush greenery of the golf course lent credence to it's status as a country club, with members out on the greens as early as dawn. Some mornings, Rigo was here just as early, a small office in the back affording a place for him to conduct certain business away from the vineyard estate. Nothing illegitimate, of course. Those things were kept in secondary locations scattered throughout the city. Naturally. With a growing smirk, Rodrigo turned his attention back to Nina. "I enjoy the silence. Reflection is a great way to start the day." And then he'd pursed his lips together, "You should try it." The man shifted then, removing his sunglasses from his face and pushing them up over the top of his head. Dark pools remained trained on the woman, his attention unwavering as it burned hot against her. Those who knew him best found it less difficult to read his expression, but with eyes generally devoid of emotion, Rigo almost never had anything to hide. His transparency, at times, was the worst thing about him. "Why are you really here, mi cielo?" Rigo allowed the silence to grow between them, heavy with anticipation, before he continued.

"Didn't dare leave our next meeting up to the fates, hmm?"

Despite the insistence from those around her, Savannah had seen little to no reason to refuse the request to meet with Hugo Vargas over a late breakfast. Perhaps once, she might have buckled slightly at the idea of coming face to face with any number of those associated with the organisations that plagued Montreal - she certainly wasn’t that woman anymore. It was something of routine. People wanted to see if she could be bought - persuaded against her otherwise promising, warring campaign against the criminal syndicates. A meeting that had surely been met with the same convoluted, yet calming demeanor of a man who’d found that she couldn’t be otherwise converted from her pillar of justice. A woman scorned, promised a devilish hell itself upon those that tried. And now,  she relegated the man she now knew to be Rodrigo - Hugo’s cousin, with a half-hearted look of amusement, “Perhaps you should reconsider those you’ve hired.” Deducting easily that he was clearly awaiting another mimosa. It was still a little early, though she supposed when responsibility fell short, expectation sky rocketed. “Just passing through.” A brow rose, “Hugo thought to suggest we meet, though,” crystalline hues considered the man, and the table before him, “I’m yet to see why.” 

She was right. But he wondered as he took in her appearance, all sharp lines and soft curves, if she realized just how hard it was to find good help anywhere in the fucking world. Short of doing it himself, he'd exercise just a bit of patience, but not much more. That was Hugo's game, not Rodrigo's. "Well you're certainly not a waitress." He'd surmise aloud, an obvious statement to accompany the lack of shifting in his expression. The woman continued on, quick to distinguish her purpose, but not her identity. It mattered to Rodrigo in that moment- the place where their conversation existed- but he'd make no promises to remember anything about her when she left. "So Hugo has sent you." Rigo scoffed gently, placing a reminder on himself to reproach Hugo for never thinking to clue him in to these appointments he'd set. Bastard thinks it's funny. "Have a seat. Please." He'd wave idly at an empty chair. "Perhaps you might clue me in as to who you are, exactly." Rigo removed his sunglasses then, folding them swiftly and tucking them into the front pocket of his shirt. "You'll forgive me-" A demand, packaged in the form of a question, "I'm new around here."

Warmth lacked within their family. In someways, sarcasm and digging into one another was how they showed appreciation. Either way he looked like a dickhead and Luna would stand by that statement. Luna’s eyes rolled back into her head at his not so subtle way of brushing her off. Leaning back into the lounge chair, she turned to face the pool. “Maybe a little of both.” She said matter of fact-ly. With the fact the man was merely sitting by the pool, it was safe to assume he wasn’t actually busy with important business.

“I actually had a question.” Since her brother stepped in, since her father was gone, Luna found speaking to Rigo about matters she was usually left out of was easiest. Ever since she had run into Julian at the party, her mind had been racing. “What are we getting ourselves into here?” And by we she didn’t mean herself at all.

Rigo allowed his eyes to linger lazily over his cousin before he went back to gently stabbing at his food. He'd had no interest in finishing it, but gave in to giving it a second look before one of the staff came to haul it away. It was mere seconds before Luna slung the question at him- heavy and direct, and he should have expected nothing less. One of the (many, honestly) qualities that the two of them shared was their distaste for beating around the bush. The woman was concerned and, justified, which she'd no doubt keyed into growing up inside of a family with such infinite reach. "Luna..." The man had began to speak almost sternly, ready to wave off her concerns like every one of them had done consistently over the years. But? They were playing a new game now. One where being dishonest with your fucking family was liable to get you killed. Just ask Lorenzo Vittori. "Luna," His tone softened. Rigo was all sharp edges and short shifts in conscience, but he still cared for his family. "You know we would never let anything happen to you, right?" The man removed his sunglasses from his face, sitting up straight so as to look the woman directly in the eye. "You're not stupid. You don't want to get involved in "la empresa familiar." Instinctively, the mans words shifted from English to their native tongue. "Hugo tiene planes. Es un hombre inteligente. Tiene la vista puesta en Montreal, así que..."

the man led his way to booze. It seemed to be a start of many of their stories, hand clasped around the water that made them comfortable. Did they ever share a moment outside of a drink? Kane wasn’t sure. His lip curled into a smirk as the man offered him a taste of scotch. “Sí” He agreed to the drink. It would soothe the throbbing pain in his shoulder. The knife still ached against the carved skin as he tried to distract from the idea that someone greater than a pipsqueak from the Ivory wanted him dead. After all, he was a popular man.

He took the crystal, swirling the dark liquor. He didn’t take a taste just yet, always careful to watch Rodrigo take a sip first. Never take a drink from anyone. Even those you trust. “Siento que sería muy tonto que dos mujeres alineadas con Marfil entraran en Colombia, un país sin cesar la violencia, la opresión y la corrupción brutales, simplemente por un partido. No estoy seguro de cómo, tienes razón, pero ellos lo sabían. Mi sospecha te ha mantenido vivo tanto tiempo, ¿eh? Confía en ello. Empuña.” Kane nodded his head towards the the expanded glass wall across from the living room. Outside of art, Rigo definitely had no counts for safety. Kane resided in a shitbox of a one bedroom while Rigo lived in paradise. He didn’t see the point of drawing attention, alas, that’s why he was there. To console Rigo. To steer him back on track.

“Si no lo saben, tal vez podamos jugar su juego. Golelos y llévate a su Rey.” Kane wove his hand through the air as if to paint the landscape himself. “Me pregunto cuánto tardaría Zephyr Jackson en notar que algunos de sus socios desaparecieron, ¿eh? ¿Crees que lleva lealtad a sus propios hombres? Creo que hay valor en mostrar lo poco que el jefe cuida de su gente. Si le importa una mierda, bueno, sería fácil culparlo al Vittori. Ya establecieron mala sangre y esto plantea un dedo mayor para señalar la muerte de Enzo. No sospechan de una estatura acogedora como Hugo. Sospecharán de Zephyr. Es más fácil culpar al enemigo que ya odias que considerar a otro jugador.”

Kane swallowed. “Y ahí es donde entramos. Ofrecemos ayuda a su locura. No importa qué lado escojamos porque acabarán destruyéndose unos a otros sin importar.”

Rigo hummed along quietly as Kane spoke, nodding idly as he swirled the glass loosely between his fingers. He'd understood where the other man's concerns were rooted. In their business, it didn't pay to be optimistic, or to give people the benefit of the doubt. Rigo had learned that from an early age, a cardinal rule bestowed upon him by Hugo once he'd nestled himself securely under his wing. He knew the trust he'd placed in Kane was not misguided, but like with all things, he remained just a little bit skeptical. "Tú y Hugo piensan más de lo que se dan cuenta." The man paused, drinking in the aroma of the liquor before he took a deep swig. Rigo then stepped quietly around the corner of the heavy oak desk, settling into the accompanying chair with ease. "Desde que llegamos esta ridícula guerra entre facciones no ha producido más que un dolor de cabeza. En el gran esquema de las cosas, hemos estado aquí cinco minutos. No puedo imaginar lo desplazados que deben sentirse los malditos lugareños." Then Rodrigo stopped speaking, placed his glass down onto a warn coaster among his mess, and looked up to Kane with heavy regard. The silence lasted only a moment, but the younger man's mind was teaming with what-if's. What he was about to present to Kane next was not his decision to make, but whether or not he'd climb on board would make all of the difference in the world. "Nada de esto debería ser de tu inción. Todo es política, que es otro tema que tendremos que romper pronto. Pero... Hugo me ha pedido que discuta algo contigo. En realidad, sus palabras específicas eran "evaluar su interés", pero ambos sabemos que prefiero un enfoque más directo a las cosas." Rigo canted his head slightly to the side, soft grin plucking at the corner of his mouth. "Las cosas se mueven mucho más rápido de lo que esperábamos. Necesitamos un hombre de estrategia. Tú lo eres."

 1 P.M. ft @xwickedsins​ ( for JACKIE)

Mercier–Hochelaga-Maisonneuve. Whomever was in charge of naming the neighborhoods in Montreal, Rodrigo certainly had a bone to pick with them. English had always been difficult, after mastering a number of different Spanish dialects. Now? Now Hugo had expected him to fine tune his French; a language he'd never cared much for to begin with. Despite his lessons, he struggled to find the laundromat. Suds. The street names all kind of sounded the same, but eventually, his GPS picked up the name of the establishment between heavy bouts of cursing in a number of languages. He'd jammed the car into park, surmising to walk the rest of the way with the dark laundry basket filled with his clothes. Was there anything wrong with the washer and dryer at home? No. Not at all. But there had been whispers about seedy individuals in and out of these local businesses. Rigo isn't naive. He knows that the best way to launder and peddle is through business fronts... It's just that he's so damn new to Montreal, and he can't quite pin down the important ones. A firm believer in doing shit himself. Money might buy loyalty, but you know what they say about hungry dogs. So, Rigo wandered into the laundromat, eyes moving around the inside of the building before he'd grab a wiry cart to push his clothes around in. Far from packed considering it was the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, and he's managed to find a giant machine somewhere near the counter. After tucking an air-pod into his left ear, he begins to dump his laundry into the washer. His gaze doesn't move away from his task, but his attention is turned to the attendant in the window. "Hijo de puta. Olvidé el jabón." Rigo sputtered, putting on quite the show. "Mamacita," He turned finally, arms slightly agape as he took a slow step toward the counter and its attendant, dopey grin attached to his lips. "Help a man out."

                   FOR THE WICKED // RODRIGO VARGAS

7 P.M. w/ @masonhcll​

 Javier was making his rounds. His first instinct had been to find Henri. To make sure he was still living. Breathing. More importantly, that after the death of Lorenzo, his succession had been secured. It was impossible to imagine returning under these circumstances to find their organization had been flipped upside down. Not after the harrowing he'd experienced. Whatever was left- whatever remained, it needed to have a purpose. Javi would not begin to iron out the details without the only people he'd ever really trusted. Next on that impossibly short list was Mason. The only other human being who'd ever remained fixated at his side out of choice. Not because he'd had to. Not because that was part of his job. They shared many of the same ideals. Dealt with (and stowed away) their pain in similar ways. Javi would have scoured the city to find Mason, but his first stop seemed the most likely place to find him. A shoddy dive bar that Javier had come into ownership of by way of blackmail. The establishment served multiple purposes... Some of which were not appropriate to speak about out loud. He'd made his way in through the back. Greeted the stock boy who'd been a Vittori hopeful. Not a single person had seen Javi in a month or more, so their surprise was expected- but what hadn't been, was how they seemed happy to see him. But the revelation doesn't so much as crease his brow. Javi continues to snake his way through the entrails of the bar until he's made his way out front, music blaring from the jukebox, and cordially announces just as loud as he can over all of the noise; "NEXT ROUND'S ON ME!"

Following the drunken cheers of the crowd, Javi rooted himself behind the bar, maneuvering until he found a specific head of dark hair sat at the far end. "Maldito bastardo. Probablemente has estado bebiendo gratis todo el tiempo que me he ido."

9 P.M. w/ @julianpistris​

 The atmosphere at the club changes after 8 P.M.. It's members are either gathered to have a late dinner or cocktails, both of which seem to require just one more drink. Rodrigo doesn't mind. Might actually feel just as comfortable here as he does when he's hold up in the study of the vineyard mansion. So far, as quietly as the days had dragged on, he's not quite content with needing to stay out of the public eye unless totally necessary. There's no need to hide. The knife that the Empire had begun to scrape over the boils of the city had barely scratched the surface. Timing, as they say, is everything. Rigo still has some squirreled away somewhere. The man is nursing a dirty martini. There are extra olives, because he enjoys the way the vodka soaks into them. He'd invited Julian to meet him here under the pretense of 'catching up'. Not a total lie, but an exaggeration of the truth. Rodrigo did want to pick his brain. To see just how forthcoming the other man would be about his affiliation with The Vittori and, perhaps, just how pliable his allegiance was. Again. Timing. Patiently, he'd sat quietly at the center of the bar, tucked neatly against it's marbled edges. Even if Julian opted not to show... There were plenty more martini's where this came from.

                    FOR THE WICKED // JAVIER SUAREZ

If she had to be awake in the morning, Nina preferred to be out in public. It was a waste spending time alone in her apartment when she could be out being seen or enjoying herself. The weather was getting nicer each day, which provided the opportunity to spend time outside in the sun. Going across town to sit by the pool was much easier than making the trek from New York City to the Hamptons, and Nina supposed that served as a plus for her new home.

She was actually hoping to run into somebody she knew, just for a bit of entertainment, but Nina couldn’t have planned this better herself. She spotted the Vargas underboss from across the patio and didn’t allow herself to think twice; Nina picked up her own glass and plate and made her way over to him. He received an exaggerated pout in response to his question. “Disappointed to see me? That’s a first.” Before he could invite her to sit, Nina placed her plate down on the table and made herself comfortable in the chair across from him. Her glass met the table next, squeaking slightly as she pushed it across the table toward him. “If you’re nice, I’m willing to share.”

Rodrigo watched Nina with a decided interest, her frame coming into vision just as he figured out who she was. Though his expression remained sterile, a whirlwind of thoughts clouded his mind as she moved to take a seat. The conversation that he'd had with Kane a mere twelve hours after the gala had him reconsidering many things that he'd briefly held a mild fondness for... Or, at least, he'd regarded the sentiment fondly. Whether or not it was Nina, specifically, that attributed to that would likely remain to be seen-- indefinitely. "Wonderful." He drawled, while she slid the sweaty glass across the table. "Querido, you forget." Rigo paused, gaze now pinned against the waitress that scuttled into their direction. "I do not share." He'd hand off his nearly empty plate in exchange for the chilled glass. Muttering a quick 'Merci', dismissing her once again, Rodrigo turned his attention back to Nina more fully. "I haven't seen you here before." He'd razzed,  "New member or plus one?"

A country club always made him feel like he was at home. He grew up going to country clubs. Now, it felt a little different since he was a lot older. Spotting a Vargas, Isaac approached him with the intention of thanking him for the party. However, watching him talk to the employees made him want to turn around altogether. Unfortunately, Rigo started talking to him before he could. “It’s good to see you too,” He said sarcastically, knowing that it was anything but nice.  "You should be a bit nicer to them,” He pointed out, even if he knew it wasn’t his place. But everyone deserved respect, regardless of their position. “Mimosa’s can be hard sometimes.” 

“oh!” A grin surpassed her lips, splitting her cheeks like knife through a ripe orange. She moved her way through the tangled mess of servants and lesser known. It was always idiotic to stroll idly in public and here there the Vargas prince waltzed. She could hardly consider him valid. She had done her research well on the man before him. A rich, measly adopted child of the Vargas family that shrived for validity and acceptances with his brother in arms, Hugo. Who the fuck could trust a guy named Hugo? Nikki didn’t. Her bodyguard, Xavier, remained perched outside like a dog. While orange flutes danced around the trays of his employees, Nikki found her placing in standing in front of Rodrigo.

Her heel clicked against the stone as she raised a brow towards Rodrigo. “Sorry, was I bothering you?” She tilted her head, hearing the crackle of water trickle back into her ears. “I recall you stunted our meeting for…mimosas. Tasteful, dear. Unlike you, I don’t skip out on my meetings.” She fanned her phone before her, trying to relieve from the glowering sun. “So, here we are. Have you considered the proposal I sent your boss? Shame I have to report through you, but I’m sure Hugo had his reasons.”

Devoid of alcohol, Rodrigo still clung lightly to his mug of coffee. Almost finished and nearly cold, but he'd take a generous swig as he regarded the woman who'd appeared before him. His silence was brief, and was less about finding the right thing to say, and more about figuring out the quickest way to get her to leave. In relocating to Montreal, this, here, had been the most difficult thing to get used to. The meetings. The niceties. Rodrigo was expected to be everywhere that Hugo couldn't, and it certainly was a far cry from the life he'd lead in Colombia. It wasn't that he couldn't handle the responsibility, but rather, he didn't understand the point. So Hugo wanted to cover his ass in everything that he did. Great. He'd been well versed in the art of saving face. Rodrigo didn't share the same ideals. He'd rather do things quietly, without so many introductions. Alas, he'd begun to vacate his seat in the lounge, standing swiftly as he adjusted his sunglasses before opting to remove them completely. With the opposite hand, and after one slow step toward the woman, Rigo offered his hand, though he would not be offended if she didn’t shake it, "Miss Park, I assume." He'd never actually met her, if you can imagine. "Not a bother at all. A welcomed distraction." Accompanied by a heavy Spanish dialect, a saccharine grin weaved itself into his expression, "Forgive my folly. It's been difficult to catch a break since we've arrived. Things move much quicker here than I could have imagined." Not entirely true, of course. Rodrigo would never have immersed himself into this new playing field without a bit of research. "Why don't we head into the clubhouse? The sun doesn't care much for business."

Straying away from her family for the past couple of days, Luna avoided all Vargas owned property. The performance Hugo carried out at the party unnerved the woman. She knew him. She knew how his brain ticked. Watching him ever since she was a young girl, the way he feasted for power was animalistic. Hugo would conquer this city whomever had to die in the process. Luna couldn’t bare to see him when he was on one of those highs.

After a couple of days, she found herself at the country club hoping Hugo was too preoccupied. Her eyes landed on a more refreshing face, if only slightly. A scoff escaped her lips as she plopped onto a lounge chair. “You look like a dickhead.” She sighed out. “Besides, only pussies drink mimosas.”

With lips slightly pursed, Rigo used a very specific finger to push his sunglasses higher up on his nose. He'd lean back in his chair, if only slightly, crossing one leg over the other as he regarded he cousin with a forced grin. For affect, naturally. "That's not very nice, Luna." Rigo grumped, extending a hand and waving it rather ominously in her direction. "Did you come over here just to roast me, or do you have something productive to contribute to my rather busy morning." Busy... Right.