Mafia Elite

I wonder if anyone would mind if I played my violin out here.

"breaking the rules of course.. and the best way to do it without getting caught.. "

"You've got it all wrong, sweetheart. It's not just about not getting caught. It's about having the right connections in place so if you do get caught, you're not quite as accountable."

"Fine. You’re my drug dealer in shining armor, is that better?" Eve asked, giving him a curt smile. She knew better than to piss a known killer off but at the moment, she was on the greener side of the jail cell, not him. She cringed when he mentioned the name, remembering a rather ugly and mean face that went along with it. Lucky for her, she never had to deal with De Luca, but the rumors were enough. “Well you should have thought about the people you care about before you became Al Capone,” she said quietly, and then shuffled slightly in place when he stood up. She had always been a tall girl, but he was taller, and always had a way of making her feel small. She glanced away from Xavier for a moment, not wanting to get wrapped up in whatever his favor was, but before she knew it she was looking up at him again. “No, but I will anyways,” she said coyly.

"Evie, Al Capone had nothing on me." It came with the territory, of fulfilling the prophecy of his lineage. Most kids grew up and had a choice about what they wanted to be when they grew up, but Xavier Moretti had been raised to be a killer. That didn't mean that he was a complete sociopath: he had remorse, when necessary, but he had to close that part of him a long time ago. As Eve glanced away, Xavier reached to take her chin between his fingers, draw her face back up so he could see her. "Good girl. Just let me know if Emilia is okay. Emilia Pinasco. I just want to see if she's alive, and if she's safe." Well, well, well. The killer did have feelings after all.

Her hard stare continued as he tried to compliment her again, and Eve bit the inside of her cheek against a cutting retort. She wasn’t sure which was more annoying, his ego, their past relationship, or the fact that his smirk made a slight blush creep up her skin. “You’re so fucking sexist,” Eve muttered and shook her head. She planted her hands on her hips, nearly stunned at his attitude. “You look like someone decided to beat the hell out of you, that’s what it really looks like. But yea, I guess you’re probably going to get your ass beat when you run around shooting people.” She shook her head again. “Is that why you’re here?” 

"Yeah, I'm sexist. Keep thinking that, honey, but remember who it was who pulled you out of the dregs of despair again and again. You got a better deal once that little pissant was out of the way, and better shit, too." A glance back over at Eve, breath slipping through flaring nostrils. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now, does it? I'm paying for what I did. I don't know for sure, but I'm willing to bet it was De Luca. That feud runs deep. Longer than I've been alive." Xavier could feel his jaw set, and his nerves fray with tension as his eyes averted slightly. "Me? I can deal with. I just wanna know they didn't fuck with Emilia. Hey." He stood to full height, his impressive stature towering. "You wanna do me a favor?"

          ❛ what? you don’t think I’m tough              enough  to  hang  with  the   big              Brooklyn guys? ❜

"I don't think you're tough enough to hang with the mafia, no."

          ❛ I  know,  trust  me,  I’m  very   happy              with how  I  was  brought  up  in  that              little house. —- it was cute, my mom              took  real  good  care  of  it.  do   you              think I could  last  even  a  minute  in              Brooklyn? ❜

"Maybe in Brooklyn. Probably not in the circles I ran in."

          ❛ San  Diego,  all   the   way   on   the              other  coast. —-  a  mansion,   huh?              we just had a little two story  house              about thirty minutes from the beach. ❜

"Just? That's nothing to shake a stick at. Sounds beautiful. I could never get into the California thing myself."

How about we go for a walk and talk?

"Sure, beautiful. What's the topic of the hour?"

          ❛ I guess you don’t have to worry              about it as much as me. —- so,              where’d you come from? ❜

"I guess not. Born and raised in Brooklyn. My family has a mansion waterfront. You?"

Of all the people to see, Eve would’ve never have guessed in a million years that one of the most dangerous people she knew would end up as a veritable prisoner in the middle of paradise. She scoffed at him. And of course, he would immediately bring up her habits. Old habits. “Are you fucking serious? That’s the first thing you’re going to say? You’re in a jail cell.” Eve folded her arms across her chest, giving him a hard stare. “God, you look like shit.” 

"I like the fire. It looks good on you." Xavier leaned against the wall, his arms crossing. Cells could do very little to kill the man's confidence; that kind of arrogance was born and bred. "Still," he continued, his voice softening, only slightly, "I meant it as a compliment. It's not often women can get out of their habits." He smirked, let out a breath of a laugh through his nose. "Still, you're right. I am in a jail cell. Strange little pickle I've gotten myself in, huh? I guess I couldn't be king forever. Icarus too close to the sun. Glad to hear I look like shit, because I sure as hell feel like it." His head tipped back against the wall, smile fading for a more genuine, listless sigh. "I suppose I had it coming, all the shit I've done."