【ßroken Θrder】

[Corpius]

░░▌┋ THE OCELLO BOSS
TRY NOT TO MISTAKE WHAT YOU HAVE WITH WHAT YOU HATE
xxxxIT COULD LEAVE, IT COULD LEAVE, COME THE MORNING

xxxxxxxxxx❝ ✘xxxＣａｒｍｉｎｅ xＶ.x Ｏｃｅｌｌｏ ❞
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AND IF THE SUN SHOULD LIFT ME UP
WOULD YOU COME BACK? C'MON!





It was perhaps fortunate for both of them that Carmine really didn’t hear much of what he said at first, mainly because the sound of Beau’s voice was starting to make him see red. Even Luciano was edging away nervously and Pascal was openly staring. Only Beau was the only seemingly unaffected by his imminent doom, which really wasn’t helping the issue at hand. Carmine didn’t really like people who knew how to stand up to him; he liked to make them regret their actions, and really, he wanted to see how big of a talker Beau was when his arm was broken at the elbow. But what was the going to solve? Nothing, he’d have a pissed guy with a broken arm, because violence was rarely a solution to anything. So instead, he just turned his head away, and tried to think about something far less irritating while he tried to at least catch the tail end of what Beau was saying. His words were far more respectful now and he’d gotten rid of that stupid suck-up ton of voice (well, most people would just call it being friendly, but Carmine’s a d**k like that). Provided he stuck to those words, Carmine didn’t see any reason to have the s**t kicked out of him later.

Well, aside from the fact he tried to stick a gun in his face. That was reason enough to have him incinerated in Carmine’s opinion. The gun too. Might as well torch the whole ******** factory while he was at it. Why had he come home again? Ordering people around, selling these stupid little deadly pieces of metal and plastic, playing king of the whole stupid mess. He’d rather be back at graduate school, with his dog and girl. Any day. Just because he was a better candidate than Domani didn’t mean he wanted this, even if he’d called and asked to come back.

Beau bowed out rather gracefully, and Carmine grudgingly made note to keep an eye and try and not bite heads off so easily, or people were going to wonder what his problem was. Most of the people around him hadn’t known the violent and angry youth the eldest son had once been. If they thought he was touchy now....well. He probably did have a lot of residual angry and he was probably way too happy to take it out on people like Roland or Beau who he judged lesser than him. Pity for them, because Carmine was just not the kindest individual around. Nor was he always reasonable.

Arms firmly crossed, eyes closed, he took one deep breath and breathed it out, shoving the irrational desire to punch a hole in the wall. Or several. At least he was practiced at regaining control. “Who the ******** just comes in without knocking?” He grumbled, rubbing one temple. The question was rhetorical, not that anyone in the room seemed jumping to answer him.

Speaking of which....with his back to the door, so as to not see Beau’s exit, Carmine had failed to notice Domani tiptoeing up yet again. Of course, Dom had been there awhile....not that Carmine had really been in control enough to notice.

“Che cosa sta succedendo qui."

“Scopare donnola--” Dom scaring the s**t out of Carmine will never get old. The blond jerked to look at him, recognizing the voice in that second as well, then sighed as he rubbed a hand across his eyes. “Nothing. Just someone uninvited thinking he can do what he wanted.” Which also included his job, but shhhhhhhhhh. “Do you ever make noise when you walk? Or are you taking lessons from the Niccolo kid now?” Carmine was back to joking mode- what you could call a safe zone, I suppose. “Other than that, nothing. I think I’ll have you take our little prisoner upstairs for now, lock him in one of the spare bedrooms so he can shower. Sorry, you’ll have to find someone else to play with today, unless his brother is less than useful and then you can have him back this evening. Capire? We should be meeting this after-- cazzo.” He cursed quietly as he realized he’d never told Beau the address of where’d they meet the Russians, and naturally he had no idea what the man’s phone number was.

“Luciano, if you could go catch Beau before he leaves, and give him the meeting place address? And the time.” The slip of paper Carmine passed him had both written on it. “I’d go myself, but I might just punch him. And if you could drop the gun and the ledger in my office, per favore e grazie. I’ll read it later.” It would probably be off, just like the others. Another problem to be dealt with. Carmine could feel a headache building at this point.

[Corpius]

╔════════════════════━━━━━┈┈┈

"Ugh. Dude. Shut your face." Park interrupted him, meaning well, and caught him for another kiss, but Misha made a noise of complaint and tried to wriggle free, like a captured cat. He looked nothing short of frustrated, maybe even a bit disappointed, his growing headache pounding at his temples, a reminder that his body was craving pot.

“But your work could potentially rescue Pascal, right?” The fact that Park wanted to cuddle more than he wanted to find the missing boy seemed to really bother him. But then, Pascal was pretty important to Misha and if there was something that could be done to get him home, then that was to be most important- to everyone. “Then you should work. Maybe I’ll come back when you get done.” He rolled away and stood.

“B'awh. You're sick, a little bit. Your head's hurting, right? In that case, you should get some rest. And tea.” Park didn’t sound happy but Misha was too far into the withdrawal stage to care as much as he would have liked. Other things were more important at the moment.

“Yeah. Gonna do that.” He gave the other a small smile as he opened the door. “Good luck, okay?” Then he was hurrying away, back to his room. He wasn’t the most sweetest, innocent person when he was crashing like he was. It wouldn’t be too bad at first, but if hours passed he tended to get pretty grumpy.

But he was only half way to his room when his stomach rumbled, alarmingly loudly in the quiet hallway, and made him pause. When had he eaten last? Unable to remember, he figured that it was a while ago, hours or even more than a day. Unlike most people, he didn’t get the munchies when he was high and rarely felt hungry at all. Definitely why he was still so skinny.

Might as well grab something to eat, before he smoked again, in case he decided to skip breakfast afterwards. So Misha detoured off to the dining room, in hopes there would be some leftover food to steal and he wouldn’t have to bother the kitchens. This side of the house was quiet, so he didn’t expect to find anyone there and imagine his surprise at the somewhat contemplative looking stranger sitting at the table, clearly waiting on his meal. Misha paused in the doorway, eyes narrowed as he tried to place the man, who seemed vaguely familiar but he was sure he didn’t know his name. A guest of Roland’s, perhaps? Ah, he knew why he felt familiar now- the man reminded him of Carmine Ocello. Not really in looks, but in the way the stranger was tall and firmly built under his white buttoned down shirt. They had similar presences of physical...well, whatever you called it. Power, maybe. And the serious look on the stranger’s face was a mirror image of the Italian’s look.

“Just like Carmine.” The words slipped out before he really thought about it, then he shook his head. The b*****d had just up and taken Pascal, and he was thinking about his facial expressions? No, he should be imagining Carmine going through a woodchipper, feet first. Yeah, that was better. “Dobroye utro.” Good morning.” His tone wasn’t unfriendly, but it was a bit guarded. “Is it okay if I eat in here, or did you want to be alone?” Habit had him acting quieter and more mature than usual, because he’d always acted like an adult to Carmine. Older than he really was. It didn’t help that his mood was still....dulled from the crash. Like the world around him had lost clarity and color and had somehow become more....depressingly real. “You’re new. Are you replacing someone?”



⇩xxxx⇩xxxx⇩
╔════════════════════━━━━━┈┈┈xxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxso show me family, all the blood that i will bleed
i don't know where i belong, i don't know where i went wrong
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx┈┈┈━━━━━════════════════════╝

[BaconBunch]

「 with ♛ Mish- Hey, wait! Come back! 」 xxxxx 「 where ♛ My humble abode! 」
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❝ just thinking some thoughts ya ❞
♛ ♛ ♛

Time sort of started to slow to a stop when Misha attempted to squirm his way away from Park and his evident dissatisfaction was paired with Park's letting go of the boy, backing away ever so slightly, his eyes wide in surprise. Was Misha mad at him? Did he do something wrong to be so cruelly disgusted towards his touch? Park kept his eyes locked on those of Misha, trying to find a reason in his facial expression. It wasn't just a headache. Something had changed.

"But your work could potentially rescue Pascal, right?"
I just want to go one day without worrying about Pascal.
"...I guess, but-""Then you should work."

The rest of Misha's sentence was blocked out by seemingly the sound of his eardrums imploding. "Are we still going dancing?" He whispered, mostly to himself, and realized that he had been to quiet for Misha to even hear him. He thought against repeating himself. He didn't even get another kiss before Misha was gone. Park looked like a puppy in a thunderstorm.

He closed his eyes shut tight and listened to the door click closed, and slammed the back of his head into his mattress. How could such subtle things make Misha seem so distant from him? Why did he even care, anyway? He had only known him for a day. He considered whether he had just been ignorant. He didn't let his barriers down that easily for most people -- He was being opportunistic, and it might have only gotten him hurt. Was this boy even planning to show his face again, or was he going to move on? Was Park just a warm bed for him?



「'cause everything is never as it seems」
♚ ♛ ♜ ♝ ♞ ♟ ♞ ♝ ♜ ♛ ♚

[TRAFFKLIGHT]

▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪
» { who: the REPLACEMENT traffklight { where: dining room traffklight { with: curly haired kid

TRAFFKLIGHT TRAFFKLIGHT TRAFFK LET THE GAMES BEGIN !!

With nobody around for him to put on a front, Kolya was focused enough on his thoughts to let it show through. A slight frown, which he smoothed out with his fingers, letting out a small sigh. He wanted and needed to confront the young don about everything that he had figured out but... how to word it? The easiest approach was always the most blunt, but considering Roland was so ready to shoot him almost point blank the night before... He didn't really want to have a slap across the face for sticking his nose where the younger man obvious didn't want it.

"An American breakfast." Kolya requested with a smile, before letting it slip away the moment the servant left the dining room. Best to keep enjoying the little things. There were other things that Kolya had stressed even more about. So that might make you wonder a little if being thrown into a new country with a disorganized don with a dead right hand and a missing brother wasn't the number one thing for him to be stressed out about. Nothing good came from panic. He learned that years ago.

That's when his thoughts were interrupted by words he almost missed. "Just like Carmine." He turned slowly to see who had entered, just a little surprised and revealed a friendly smile. Carmine? As in Carmine Ocello? The Don of the rivaling family? Now that sparked a few questions in the Russian's mind. "Good morning!" He returned the greeting, his serious expression disappearing to the point the slightly heavy atmosphere seemed to vanish. And he nodded. "Yes! Please! Feel free! Whats your--" He was cut off. Not really intentionally, it was more like Kolya had accidentally started talking such before the other. "Ah yeah I guess you could say that. I don't know about replacing anybody though." What an awkward question. Perhaps he was implying he was a replacement for Sacha? He didn't think Roland would take that too well if that was the case. Nobody can replace your best friend. Especially not so quickly after their death. Kolya might have been imported from Russia, but he still had feelings.

"I was transfered here from the headquarters at the Don's request to work for Rolandovich instead. He hasn't given me anything to do yet though, I just arrived last night." And the man didn't exactly want him to do anything. "I'm Kolya by the way, what's your name? Your Russian is very good." The only people he had really looked into were Roland and Pascal because they were the don's sons and... by default more important. He figured once he arrived he would meet the other members of the family and learn about them when it was important. Looking at the other though, he was very young looking, and that surprised him more than anything. Besides maybe his hair. Was unruly hair a trend in America perhaps? But anyways.... He had assumed Pascal might have been the youngest of the American branch. Perhaps the other just looked younger than he really was but... It still sparked a bit of... sentimental feelings in Kolya. Being young and part of the mafia couldn't be easy for anybody.

He knew that more than anything.

[Corpius]

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The moment he spoke, Misha could tell he was Russian. He hadn’t been raised in Russia, himself, but he’d been raised by a woman who’d spoken no English and had lived with the Shaprios long enough to recognize a natural speaker when he heard one. Everyone in the family spoke it to an extent, but not everyone was Russian born or even full Russian. The stranger confirmed Misha’s assumption as he replied that he’d just been transferred over by the don, which made the boy nod as he took a quiet seat at the table across from him.

"I'm Kolya by the way, what's your name? Your Russian is very good." The serious look, apparently reserved for when no one was watching, was long gone, replaced by a smile that reminded him of a very happy golden retriever. Not stupid, but very eager and bright. Fake in a way that while the emotion behind it was real, it felt....as though it were an excuse. Or something. Damn, his head was starting to hurt.

“Misha Chekov.” He responded quietly, half a smile on his face in return. He hadn’t expected the other to be so chatty. “I’m Russian too, and I’m...Pascal’s boyfriend.” Well, he wasn’t any more, hadn’t been so for a while. They’d broken up ages ago after what had been a rather short and secretive relationship. But it seemed no one took him seriously when he said he was Pascal’s friend, so if he had to lie to be included in on things, he would happily lie. Besides, he liked to think he cared more about Pascal more than any boyfriend ever would, provided he got the chance to have another one. “Among other things. I deal for them too. Do you smoke?” He meant marijuana of course. Not that he could really sell to another member of the family, that would be rather redundent, but...

It was always possible he’d find a client of a different sort. Misha preferred olden men, since they tended to be less attached and, well, richer. Of course, he’d never slept with anyone in the Shaprio family- yet. Probably still wouldn’t, unless whoever it was was willing to keep Misha’s little ‘side job’ a secret. If Pascal ever found out, Misha didn’t think he could face him. And if Roland found out...well, who knew? He didn’t want to find out, that was for sure.

He found himself examining Koyla a little more closely, now that they were closer together, his chin resting on one hand. Well dressed, probably what Pascal would consider attractive- then again, Pascal’s definition of “attractive male” wasn’t really all that narrow. Misha didn’t really feel so strongly about physical looks- wallet size maybe. Skill in bed maybe second, that was a bonus. Of course, you couldn’t judge that by someone’s looks, so that wasn’t why Misha was staring. Finally, he spoke again, making a complete shot in the dark. “Are you are martial artist too?” He knew a great of worthless detail about Carmine, none of which was of any use to Roland that Misha could judge. But it was hard not to recognize the body of a fighter when he saw one. Sure, most of the guards at the Shaprio mansion had the same muscular build, but they seemed....stiff, compared to people like Carmine and now Koyla. Like they had learned to fight specifically for their jobs, where as the latter were different in some way. If they really were similar in that respect, then Koyla’s answer to his question would confirm his observations on that fact.



⇩xxxx⇩xxxx⇩
╔════════════════════━━━━━┈┈┈xxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxso show me family, all the blood that i will bleed
i don't know where i belong, i don't know where i went wrong
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx┈┈┈━━━━━════════════════════╝

[TRAFFKLIGHT]

▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪ x ▪
» { who: the right hand traffklight { where: dining room traffklight { with: misha

TRAFFKLIGHT TRAFFKLIGHT TRAFFK LET THE GAMES BEGIN !!

If it was possible, Kolya's grin seemed to grow a little wider. "Nice to meet you, Misha!" He spoke rather abruptly switching into heavy accented English, then slipped back into the much more natural language to his tongue. Eyebrows raised, not with judgement, but curiousity with a bit of amusement. The Russian understood the other must have been at least part Russian considering his surname... But Pascal's boyfriend? And so open about it too. He stared at the younger for a moment, trying to decide whether it was a joke or not... but the other didn't seem to be in the mood for making jokes. But boyfriends? Not to pass any sort of offensive judgement (being a little obviously more inclined to pursue humans of the same sex) but he felt like the other was hiding something. Perhaps lying. But why would somebody lie about something like that? "You must be really worried about him then..." His voice softened sympathetically.

But it looked like the other didn't want to dwell on that topic. Everybody was worried obviously. Even Kolya and he didn't even know the man. He had already clued in to the fact that the branch would be under chaos until Pascal was found and returned home safely. Then again. Chaos was always present in this field of occupation. The mafia.

"Ahhh... I see. And I used to... now I just do on occasion." And of course Kolya didn't realize the younger was meaning weed. Kolya tried to avoid smoking. A nasty habit of many and he knew that from experience. Men and women alike. It was unhealthy, and everybody knew it, but it dulled the stress a little for some. Of course there were plenty they only smoked socially or when they drank, but that was hardly an excuse. Come on. They were Russian. If they smoked as much as they drank then they were definitely an addict. "Special occasions." He smiled, a questionable weight behind it.

The next question surprised Kolya quite a bit. "You're rather observant." He said with an intrigued grin. But what really had Kolya's interest was why Misha here seemed to know so much about this... Carmine fellow. "Are these facts about the Ocello don common knowledge?" He asked. Did Roland know this much about Carmine as this curly haired dealer? And then it really got him thinking. Clearly Misha knew what Carmine looked like... so he could assume Roland did too... right? "Or rather... Does Rolandovich know much about Carmine?" If he did then that would settle his slight assumption that the man he had met the night before had indeed been the Don of the Ocello family... and therefore relieve some thoughts of Roland's imcompetence.

Of course. That all depended on Misha's answer. "Would you mind telling me a little more about Carmine while we eat? I'm still trying to understand what's happening around here." Friendly. Not forceful. It was apparent the other was tired and possibly even a little sick. The younger was quite skinny.... Had he not been living off burgers? Well stress treated people differently. "How old are you anyways?" Kolya then asked, realizing he was just assuming the other was younger than him... and possibly even thinking of him as younger than he really was.

[Corpius]

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Misha shrugged rather noncommittedly when told he was observant. No more than the next individual, in his opinion, and much less so when he was high. He just happened to thrive off of other people, which made him good enough at guessing things about them. Sometimes he was right, sometimes he was wrong, most of the time it didn’t matter. “Common knowledge? Maybe, I guess. I’ve....run into him once or twice while working. And it’s hard not to hear things when you’re around all sorts of people. So I guess I know a fair amount of useless knowledge. The Italians don’t have much to do with us, usually, so I probably know more about them most. It’s, um, pretty common knowledge that Carmine Ocello doesn’t count the Russians among his allies though.” Or it seemed common to Misha, anyway. Even so, this attack had seemed unexpected, even knowing that.

“Does Roland?” Another shrug. There was too much talking and not enough food. At least Koyla was kind about the questioning, but that didn’t make the irritated Misha keen to spill all. Perhaps if he’d met him in the mood he’d been in last night, but not now. And especially not concerning Roland or Carmine. “I don’t know. I’m not really in his inner circle.”

“I guess? I don’t know that much. He’s tall, he’s got more hair than most women, he came back from studying law at some fancy school in New England somewhere about two years ago. He likes dogs.” He paused, contemplating. “That’s all I know. The rest is just rumor. He’s down at Dare on occasion, that’s where I met him anyway. Usually has a bodyguard with him, but from what I’ve seen I really doubt he needs one...” That wasn’t too much information, was it? He didn’t want to know too much to seem suspect, and besides, his other information really wouldn’t be of use to anyone. “You could learn all that just asking around though.”

At the age question, he scowled. Did everyone have to ask? Did being young just make him useless, or helpless or something? He wasn’t either of those things, dammit. A bit unschooled in a lot of things people took for granted, but he had other skills. And he wasn’t a child! “Twenty-two. Yeah, I’m a bit of shrimp.” It was hard not to lie to Koyla, apparently. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him, it was just that he wasn’t in the mood to be treated like a toy poodle by yet another member of the family. “I’ve been living alone since I was thirteen though. Sort of accidentally joined the mafia. You do enough drugs, you start selling them at some point, I guess.'

As their food arrived, Misha watched the other. Had Roland just not bothered to tell him anything? Maybe it had been too late and he meant to today. Or maybe he was trying to keep secrets. Why though? None of this was Roland’s fault, what did he have to be ashamed of? “It’s a mess here right now, if you’re wondering why you’re so uninformed. I mean, it’s one things to know what you should do, but it’s another thing entirely when the strongest mafia in the city decides to make you his enemy overnight, right? Who would you trust, if you don’t have the usual people you’d rely on? Don’t take it personally. Roland doesn’t really like new people- I know that better most people.” He paused again, because it really wasn’t his place to be asking things of people he barely knew and certainly outranked him, but since when had he ever paid attention to that? “It’s not gonna be easy, but please try and be patient with him? Regardless of what mistakes he makes, he’s our only hope of bringing Pascal home. He needs all the help he can get right now, even if he tries to reject it.” It was hard to tell what sort of feeling he got from Koyla. The man was very friendly though, and he had been sent over from Russia directly- that had to make him trustworthy, right?



⇩xxxx⇩xxxx⇩
╔════════════════════━━━━━┈┈┈xxxxxxxxxxxx
xxxxxxso show me family, all the blood that i will bleed
i don't know where i belong, i don't know where i went wrong
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx┈┈┈━━━━━════════════════════╝

[I B L O W I]

Domani was pissed. No beyond pissed. He shrugged off his brother's little comment about being a weasel. It's not like he'd complain if Dom just saved his life. He laughed, a little bitterly, when his brother joked that Dom was learning to walk quietly from Niccolo. Though he couldn't deny that he perfected his skill by watching the way Niccolo walks when he's trying to be quite and honing in on the flaws. He was actually getting better at it but he still wasn't content with the skill. The problem was that he could still hear himself which meant someone else would be able to as well. With the proper training of course. Well maybe he could- wait there he went again. Dom had a habit of thinking too deeply about things. The only thing that brought him back to reality was that he could still feel that his nose was flared and the tips of his ears were burning two signs that he wasn't in a good mood. At the moment all he could think of was why didn't he just pull the trigger. The worst thing was that he couldn't think of one. They could find another person to do the job and Dom had a probable cause. He had a gun drawn on the current don. That was reason enough to die.

Dom inhaled deeply and shook his head. He ran a hand through his hair; gripping the locks at the crown of his head as he exhaled. He set the safety back on his gun and returned it into it's holster seeing as he'd have no further need for it, hopefully, and he knew it would only make his brother more uncomfortable. “Just keep your workers in check before I bury them." Domani shrugged. He knew Carmine could defend himself but it really didn't matter. It was funny how protective Domani was over Carmine seeing as Dom is the younger brother and the only one who's experienced the cold grip of death before. He looked over at Pascal as Carmine's words kicked in. He wanted Dom to let him shower? Domani was kinda in the mood to play with the Russian again but after what he just walked in on it would probably kill the kid on accident. “I don't think now would be a good time to play around. We still have the last prisoner's room set up. I'll drop him off there." The room the prisoners were kept in looked like most of the other rooms in the house the only difference was that it was one of the hardest things to get out of. There was surveillance covering every inch of the room; providing both audio and video. All trackers and gps devices were blocked and rendered useless. The windows were bulletproof and didn't open. The bathroom was connected and only had the bare essentials. The only real way out was through the door that brought them in. Any other method would most likely trigger the alarm and activate the sleeping gas. Dom had to say that was the best thing he's ever designed in his life.

He raised his hand, beckoning Pascal with his finger.“Lets go." Domani nodded to a guard to re-handcuff Pascal once he noticed that the boy's hands were free. He didn't want the bit of freedom to cost the Russian his life. Domani headed for the door keeping his eyes on Pascal. Dom stopped when he heard his brother's command to Luciano. He couldn't wrap his head around how Beau had left without gaining the address of the enemy. It triggered Dom's attention and he'll definitely give Beau the attention he was "craving." He waited and let Pascal walk next of him as he led him down the main hallway. He made sure to take the most known path to avoid letting Pascal see any of the hidden passageways scattered around the location. He made sure to take a couple extra turns and twist to distort the boy's idea of where he really was. He turned his head to look at Pascal. “I would really appreciate it if you don't try anything today. Not for me but for you'r ow-" Domani's body collided with a solid mass. He knew this place like the back of his hand there was no way that he just walked into a wall. He looked forward at the body he hit and laughed a bit. This was definitely a well needed laugh. “Ti stai perdendo vestiti, Niccolo."


Out Of Control: Ahh Corp I'm not mad at your or your post just figured Dom would be angry with someone threatening to kill his brother. 3nodding
Translate: "You're missing clothes you know."

[_BardofHaven_]

So yeah. Pascal continued to stare as Carmine was slowly losing all professionalism that Pascal initially thought the man had. It seemed that with each new guest, Carmine was losing his patience for everything in general. he couldn't help but crack a small smile when he saw Carmine whip his head around as Domani had entered. It seemed rather easy to irritate the man, and Pascal made a mental note to test his theory out when he had a chance.

The Beau man though...It seemed that no one particularly had an interest for him. Once again Pascals mind wandered. Maybe if no one liked him he was easy to sway, and if he was easy to sway maybe he could get him out of here. Ding! Ding! He had to get to know Beau. Somehow. Maybe he could make more unheeded requests, and bug the crap out of his captives till they were all sick of him. And the only person they could send to look after him was Beau. Yes. Victory through annoyance. Ah, the sound of Plan....uh...F? He seemed to lose track of how many failed plans he previously had. Either way this one was a sure winner. Unless of course they kill him before he got the chance to speak with Beau. Which meant he also had to get on their good side. But he didn't have to get them all to like him, just one important guy...Like Domani or Carmine. Yes. One of them....Probably Carmine, since he has yet to cause physical harm to Pascal. Also he didn't look as insane.

He was so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed Carmine was giving out orders. The man still looked a bit upset, but slightly less so now that Beau had left. Which Pascal counted as a small bonus. Another bonus was that he was moving to another room. one with a shower and a bed! Pascal did a mental fist pump, his internal crowd going wild. He was seriously falling in love with Carmine. The man had made threats but as the only one, besides Niccolo (but he doesn't count since he was the not-so-innocent-bystander who took his hat. Which....he needed back. Yeah looking at you Cierra), who hadn't harmed him in any way, shape, or form, he was number one on Pascals Friendly List. The only downside was that Domani was taking him. Pascal sighed, but he did hear the 'Not a play-thing' line. Which was a small relief. But still...

He looked up at Domani as he beckoned with his finger to get moving. He stood up, making sure to grab the clean shirt they had given him, and winced as Rough Hands reapplied the handcuffs. Hopefully they would be off soon, just so his wrists could have a break. He casually walked toward the exit, looking back at Carmine. "Hey, so come visit me again and we'll have another chat. Hopefully with less....uh interruptions." He said to the other, giving him a gleeful smile before turning away and exiting the room. After a small pause from Domani the two continued onward. They took a bunch of turns here and there, but Pascal wasn't really paying attention. He was too busy taking in all the beautiful things the house had. It was kinda-really-super pretty, and it definitely reminded him of home. It wasn't too similar really, being as it was more...Italian. But the feel of the house and ambiance was very similar. If only it's inhabitants where as nice.

After a few minutes Domani began to talk, something about not causing trouble before he was cut off with a small grunt. Pascal actually turned his attention towards the other, stopping in his tracks. He tried to hold back his laugh, honestly he did. But a small "Pfffft" Slipped out and he couldn't help but smirk at the scene. It seemed Niccolo had troubles with clothing, being as he wasn't wearing anything but a towel. He looked good actually, but Pascal wasn't really paying attention to that mildly attractive feature. What was holding his attention was that Domani was smiling and he actually laughed. LAUGHED. Also Niccolo was kinda in his arms. There was only one thought running through Pascals head as he watched the two.

Boyfriends.

It made him want to...smash their heads together and make them kiss, or something like that. It also made Pascal a bit jealous. He wanted what they had. He wanted that feeling of love with someone. It reminded him of Misha, and his smile fell. His face became a bit more sentimental as he thought of Misha. Man he missed the kid, but more in a friendly way. No, they had tried to be together but it hadn't worked. Pascal was over him, but he still couldn't let him go completely. So instead he became friends and made the kid stay at the Shaprio Mansion. He shook his head of those depressing thoughts and smiled back at the two. "I uh *coughcough* promise not to cause any trouble for you...two" He laughed out. It was only slightly reassuring that Domani was actually a human being. "Oh hey. Can I get my hat back?" he asked Niccolo, like he wasn't a prisoner or anything. He had a problem with rules and boundaries.


[ location || The Beautiful Hallways ] xxxxxxx [ company || Domani and Niccolo ]
[ ooc || Pascal is all "NOW KISS" ]

[c a f e bean]

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Okay, here we go! Things were going very smoothly so far! Not too many people were milling about the Ocello mansion, at least not near Niccolo, and he hadn’t been seen as of yet! He just needed to go a little bit farther and turn a corner, then book it down the stairs and to his own room. He would most likely run into at least one maid and maybe a cook or something as he passed by the main foyer, but hey, it wasn’t like the extra house help could judge him on his nakedness. And hell, what was there to judge anyways? Niccolo was freakin’ cut. Well… there was the bruise, but guys got bruised every once in a while, especially in this line of work! Nobody could blame a guy for having a few bumps and bruises when you worked for the Ocello family. Most of the people in the mansion had them, without a doubt… but most of the guys in the mansion didn’t run around in only towels. Niccolo was beginning to rethink his choice of groin coverage, here. He probably could have gotten away with wearing his boxers better than he could have with the towel, now that he thought about it. Well, s**t. Maybe he should stop in one of the hallways and switch? Was there a bathroom in the next twenty feet? There was probably one at the end of the hall, and he could reach it pretty qui—too late! Code red! Code red!

Suddenly Niccolo’s path was cut off, and just as he was realizing exactly who was standing in his way, he also realized that he hadn’t even bothered to think of stopping. Colliding with the man he had woken up next to, Niccolo’s face once more took on that perfect shade of embarrassment, though this time it was more of a frustrated red than a bashful one. Catching his balance by grabbing onto Domani’s shoulder, Niccolo gave the Ocello man his best playful ‘No s**t, Sherlock’ glare before running his hand down his side, hitching his thumb in the towel and allowing it to fall down a bit, showing off exactly how ‘cut’ he was with a sneak-a-peek at the defined ‘V’ that sat underneath the new colorful addition to his abdomen. He hadn’t wanted anyone, let alone Domani, to catch him like this, but why not play it off? Niccolo was an incredibly quiet guy, but one couldn’t really afford to be as shy as he was if they were trying to save their dignity from falling all over the floor in front of their very attractive best friend and the prisoner that maybe hated them. Well. This wasn’t a very ideal situation, was it? He gestured to his bare torso with his free hand (which is also the hand that happened to be holding his underwear, but it’s not like that mattered at this point), and flashed a smoldering grin and wink in Domani’s direction.

“Ho pensato che si potrebbe desiderare di vedere prima di indossare i miei vestiti.”

It’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? See, Niccolo could be sexy when he wanted! He just… never really wanted to.

“Colpa la cameriera.”

Laughing under his breath at what he thought was quite the silly display, Niccolo crossed his arms over his abdomen and took a moment to actually analyze what was going down here. Domani was walking a cuffed Pascal through hallways, so Carmine was probably allowing him to be taken to more comfortable prisoner digs. He was finally being given clearance to clean up like he had been asking for last night, so Niccolo figured he was pretty excited for that opportunity. He would seriously have to heal up while he still could before Domani got another crack at him; might as well do it somewhere more accommodating, like an actual room and a shower. But then again, anything was better than his spot as the dungeon’s fleshy disco ball. Here in the Ocello mansion, prisoners were obviously treated better than some other places. Yeah, it was the Hampton of the Mafia world until Domani really got to dig his claws in. God forbid Niccolo have to join in, other than to cool Domani’s jets or give him things to psychologically damage the poor kid. Emotional and mental Niccolo could do, but it would be a long while before he would touch that stupid knife again. Or any stupid knife for that matter! Just thinking about it made Niccolo’s hands twitch. Just then, Pascal’s mouth formed a peculiar arrangement of words, and Niccolo’s head tilted. Oh, yes, the beanie! The bloodied thing that Niccolo had plucked from his head and Pascal had thrown a fit over. He had nearly forgotten! But his plans with it weren’t even finalized yet, so of course he wouldn’t be giving it back. He had to make up for the lack of obedience to Domani, after all, and this was part of that plan. He scratched his temple, one brow rising as he thought it over.

“Ne volnuytesʹ, vasha shlyapa nakhoditsya v khoroshikh rukakh.”

And that was that! He turned to Domani again, gesturing to Pascal.

“Dove sta andando?”


[[ Translate; "I thought you might want another look before I put clothes on." "Blame your maid." "Do not worry, your hat is in good hands." "Where is he going?" ]]

✔ Ocello Mansion / Hallway. wwwww✖ Well this is a fine kettle of fish... wwwww♦ Domani and the Russian
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[I B L O W I]

Domani eyes lowered down to Niccolo's waist. Although he had the same amused smirk on his face his mouth was watering on the inside. Not here, not now. Not here, not now. An inner voice chanted to him. He would like nothing more at this moment to drag Niccolo back into his room and take Niccolo's innocence two to three time...in round one. His eyes slowly rose back up the boy's, extremely close, body as he heard him talk. Yeah the two of them just crashed into each other but Niccolo was practically being held at the moment. It wasn't like Dom had a problem with it but this was the first time he noticed it. And since he was noticing things since when did Niccolo have V lines. Domani was pretty observant and knew Niccolo was hot pretty attractive, but he never really checked him out before.

The passion in his voice was burning Domani alive. [******** it. Take him! As soon as Dom opened his mouth he heard the discrete laughter. That's right he was still taking the Russian to "his room." He'd have to turn down this offer for now. He groaned a bit on the inside but kept his composer. There was no use getting all hot in bothered and it was a good thing he was able to get a grip. But he had to chalk one up to his maids. They deserved a raise for this one. Domani's smirk stayed in place as he gripped the fold of Niccolo's towel playfully. “Che cameriera merita un rilancio, huh." Domani said, laughing along with Niccolo. He looked over at Pascal and laughed a bit at his comment. Yeah he was the family they were at war with but he was still a person none the less. It took a moment for Domani to register everything that Pascal said. He wouldn't make trouble for 'you two' meaning Dom and Niccolo. Were they giving off the appearance of a couple? It wasn't as if Dom had a problem with that but was he getting easier to read? He shrugged a bit.

“Thanks. I'm sure you'll appreciate that choice."

Dom laughed a bit under his breath as Niccolo told Pascal that his hat was safe. The funny part was that he said it in Italian as if the Russian could understand their language as well as they could understand his. He looked back at Niccolo and side stepped a bit in order to allow himself to walk forward again without crashing into him again. “To a room. Il prigioniero camera." He said, returning to his calm nonchalant attitude. He looked back to Pascal, using his free hand to push the boy forward down the hallway. “Alright lets go." Domani said as he started to walk towards the room intended for Pascal. After a step he paused and looked back at Niccolo. “È di tutti dovresti sapere ormai...Mi piace vedere l'intero quadro. Non solo ciò che è mostrato." He yanked back his hand pulling Niccolo's towel with it. His winked and continued to walk, with Pascal slightly in front of him, down to the prisoner's room with Niccolo towel dangling over his shoulder.

After a few minutes of walking Domani finally approached the door to the prisoner's room. He grabbed the knob, making sure to discreetly align his hand with the hidden fingerprint scanner and opened the door. He pushed Pascal inside and followed behind. “Alright. So you have a bed and shower. Sorry for the lack of a view and window but you're provided with a phone that only allows calls to other phones wired to it, so basically the other phones in this house. Unfortunately' this phone can only contact the hired help so if you need food or anything just dial one two five. That's about it. Oh and no, the door doesn't open from the inside, but it's not like you have anywhere to go." Domani chucked a bit and walked out of the room. Closing the door behind him and making sure it locked. He walked back down the hallway the way he came, hoping to run into a naked Niccolo.


Out Of Control:
Translate: "That maid deserves a raise." "The prisoners room." "You of all people should know by now...I like to see the whole picture. Not just what's shown."

[c a f e bean]

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☆ xxxx ☆ xxxx ☆

Niccolo was about two and a half milliseconds from losing his sexy bishi face when Domani gripped onto his towel. He knew that the cloth was wrapped pretty dang tightly around his hips, but there was always a chance that it was going to fall, especially with the added weight from his own hands, but now with Domani’s addition it was getting a little sketchy. Niccolo just hoped (most likely against all realistic odds) that Domani wouldn’t try anything funny. He had his boxers, sure, but he didn’t want to be buck naked in the hallway. One, it was cold. Two, no one in the house had seen his junk and he rather wanted to keep it that way. Though it’s not like he wouldn’t let Domani get all up on that, he just didn’t want anyone else seeing him, ya know… hangin’ out with his wang out and everything. Or whatever they called that. Domani would probably kn--Okay really these nasty thoughts about his Boss had to stop while he was in this ridiculous clothing-less situation. If things kept going at this rate of sexual banter between the two, Niccolo would need a lot more than a towel to cover up and a bucket of ice water to cool himself down. He rolled his eyes at Domani’s comment about the maids needing a raise, and he shook his head slowly from side to side, laughing quietly. Domani would say something like that. b*****d.

“Ricordami di non usare il bagno nuovo. La prossima volta, ho la sensazione che non ci saranno gli asciugamani.”

But hey, at least Domani was finally getting a move on and taking Pascal to the prisoner room! Now Niccolo could scurry on down to his room so that he could change into some actual clothes! He would be spiffy and presentable before anyone could see different, and he wouldn’t be caught dead being like this in the hallways of the mansion again, that was for sure. If he had to take his clothes in the bathroom with him from now on, he would. This was inconvenient as all Hell. Domani stepped to the side, allowing Niccolo to breathe again (had he been holding his breath? Geeze…) and clearing his path. Niccolo followed the other male with his eyes, watching him guide Pascal down the hallway a short distance before turning back towards him. Oh, goodness. Oh God. Oh s**t. As soon as ‘I like to see the whole picture’ poured out of those kissable, bitable, delicious-looking completely-normal-and-just-like-everyone-else’s lips, Niccolo knew what was coming. He could practically feel his pupils shrinking as his jaw dropped, and his hand shot down in an attempt to catch the towel before it was pulled loose, but no such luck was in store for the man today. It seemed his luck was running on empty lately… this sucked. Sooner than he could protest, his towel was in Domani’s hand and he was walking down the hallway like nothing had happened. s**t. This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. Damn it, Domani! God dammit!

“Bastardo!”

The insult was shot in a mix between a whisper, laugh, and a yell as Niccolo quickly ducked into the hallway that Domani and Pascal had come from, slipping his boxers on in a flash. He had said it quietly, mostly because he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. If he was going around shouting so loudly, people would wonder what was going on, they would run upstairs to check it out, and then Niccolo would be there, just chillin’ with only his underwear on. This was such BS. But of course Niccolo couldn’t be angry with Domani, even if his little joke was enough to turn Niccolo’s entire body beet-red. Okay, new mission. Don’t give a ******** about who saw, get down to the room, get dressed, and plot revenge on Domani because that sucker deserved it. What a putz. Stupid sexy ********. He would get his soon enough.

New plan in action! Niccolo caught his breath and freakin’ booked it down the stairs, making it to his room in record time. He dropped trou and switched to a brand new pair of boxer briefs, taking the chance to pull on a low-cut black v-neck and light acid wash jeans. He didn’t bother with shoes or socks, since he figured he would be in the house for the majority of the day, and he made his way out into the foyer again, walking up the stairs. If there was ever a time to pick a bone with Domani, it was now. And hello, would you look at that, there he was! He must have put Pascal away rather quickly if he was back out in the hall that soon. Niccolo picked up his stride a little so that he could catch up to him, walking as sneakily and silently as he normally would, sliding a hand from Domani’s neck to his lower back before speaking into his ear in a low growl.

“Sai, alcuni boss licenziato per molestie sessuali.”

[[ Translate; “Remind me not to use your bathroom again. Next time, I get the feeling there will be no towels.” “b*****d!” “You know, some bosses get fired for sexual harassment.” ]]

✔ Ocello Mansion / Hallway. wwwww✖ Payback time! wwwww♦ Domani
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[impeccable error]

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Perhaps he was distracted by the thought that s**t could go down any second with all the tension building up. But whatever it was, Luciano stumbled backwards and fumbled with his hands the obtain the magazine that Beau had shoved at him. In the process, he dropped the ledger and the Glock 19. As he held the magazine in his hands tightly, he watched in silence as the objects fell. The ledger crashed by his foot and the firearm skidded across the floor till it was a few centimeters away from the door. This was rather embarrassing. He was perfectly capable of carrying boxes while balancing tumblers full of coffee and catching a taxi cab. He was Luciano Pesce! A man perfectly capable of handling situations of all sorts! Being caught off guard and dropping things was clearly not acceptable.

And then the door opened. It hit the gun that was lying on the floor and forced the weapon to slide out and away. Luciano held his breath as he heard the firearm scrape across the hard floor. His eyes followed Beau as the fedora wearing man left the room and then on Domani. Luciano wasn’t sure if he was supposed to answer the question or not. If he did, he felt that he would surely end up getting flustered and then go into a spheal about how horrible Beau was and that he was the one messing with the trades and shipments and that—what. Did Carmine say his name? The bodyguard swerved his head to look at the Don. He nodded in response once the other was done giving the orders. Besides the fact that he had to see Beau’s notsougly face again, it was a rather simple task. It was something even a mafia nooby couldn’t screw up.

“Understood,” he murmured. He took the paper from Carmine and slipped it into pocket of his jacket. Luciano made his way towards the door, picking up the ledger and Glock 19 in the process, and dismissed himself. He grasped the items in his hands tightly and walked swiftly after Beau.

He was soon within arm's width of Beau, but he was contemplating whether he should tap his shoulder, which would involve touching him, which Luciano didn’t really wish to do, or say his name, which was something he didn’t really want to do either. Decisions decisions. With his free hand, he took the note from Carmine out of his pocket and took a deep breath silently to relax. Without showing any form of contempt on his face, Luciano said, just loudly enough to get the other’s attention, “Beau.” He held the note out. “The meeting time and address.” Luciano looked a bit to the side and hoped that Beau would just take the note and leave. No needless blabbering, please.


▉ - Italian
▉ - English

[BaconBunch]

「 with ♛ Not a soul. 」 xxxxx 「 where ♛ My lonely abode... 」
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❝ just thinking some thoughts ya ❞
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It wasn't a hard task to sit on your bed with your back against the wall and hug your knees until the end of forever. It made Park rather content, as well, to sit there and look like a sad fetus. Still, he was aware that he had a lot of work to do, and he would have to get it done sometime soon if he didn't want to get deader than any dead person has ever been a mishap with Roland. He would have to get off his a** and do his job, no matter how much he would feel like procrastinating.

The police server issue? Already done. It was the main part of his job, basic protocol. From a small drawer in his desk, he took out a small USB drive and plugged it into the side of the computer. That small little compartment was where he held all of his automatically-updated tabs on the police records of five cities -- Their current city, and four cities surrounding it. It was all in a sort of coding format, with an all-black background and chunky green text in HTML brackets, but it was easy enough to understand, if you focus for a bit. It was constantly moving, as new cases would pop up every few minutes, as the police departments in the area were always very busy. All he needed to do was make a few changes to the content (that will be revealed at a later time), and it was ready to go.

The next thing was the issue with the bullets. Now, that was something that was going to require some thought. After a few minutes of spinning around slowly in his chair, holding one of the bullets in his hand and inspecting it, he decided it would be best to just put a microchip inside of the tip of the bullet that would be wirelessly connected to Park's computer (and automatically saved onto something that would require some help from Google, his best friend in the world) so that he would be able to track wherever the body it would be placed in went. He assumed Roland would much rather prefer to have it on his own computer, but too ******** bad, because he wasn't Supernerd, and he couldn't do everything. Was he really that impossible to be around that Roland couldn't just come to his dorm and glare over his shoulder? Hopefully not. He would work on that for about an hour, but all it really required was taking a small microchip (like Roland suggested, the same tracking chips they put in animals) and using fine-point tweezers and some superglue to drop it into the hallowed bullet. With the superglue, he would glue the top back on, so that it wouldn't fall out. Superglue might have not been the best adhesive to use. Oh well.

The last thing to do was to encrypt Roland's shitty laptop. It's not like Park assumed he would care what type of laptop he got, but the lack of quality tastes in technology in the Shaprio family needed some serious improvement. By the end of the next hour, any information in there came along with a password and series of steps in order to get in. Park also couldn't help but notice that Roland used Internet Explorer. He lowly muttered "For Christ's Sake", and changed that s**t to Firefox.

Out of the same drawer the USB was in, he took out a lighter. It was his lighter, which explained enough. It had been with him for a long while. Whether it was on the tip of a blunt, or under a spoon. He had done it all. He didn't partake in drugs or alcohol either, for that matter, anymore, but he couldn't bring himself to throw out his lighter. He convinced himself it was one of those things, like, in order to cure a sickness, you have to give that person some of the sickness. It didn't really make sense, but it also didn't really matter.

Once everything was disposed of, and Park thoroughly cleaned the ashes out of his porcelain carpet, he curled back up on his bed and continued to be sad.



「'cause everything is never as it seems」
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