the soft spot matteo holds for lennon is not one that goes unnoticed , if only due to the rough exterior he presents . she isn’t one to take advantage of others , which means when he gives a little , even the slightest bit , it is the leeway necessary for her to give , give and keep on giving . though the only giving she was doing currently was that of insight into her brain . she offers a smile in defeat , one that doesn’t hate matteo’s critique . “ what if . . . ” lennon begins . “ i’d rather be hollywood ? ”
“I don’t know, it kind of gave me - what was that show, ah - Real Housewives reunion vibes. But hey, if that’s what you’re going for.” Matteo muses thoughtfully, a crooked smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “Trust me, you’re scarier when you’re smiling.” He’s only mostly joking, it does indeed terrify him when she smiles at him - he never knows what she’s going to convince him to do next.
Dominic’s abuelita lived next door to his home, her home was completely paid for by his parents. He was over her house every single day before going to college, and even now he tries to contact her when he can. The sudden shift in tone was a surprise and Dom’s face showed his surprise. Without any hesitation he put the money back into his pocket knowing he wasn’t going to win this round. “Alright. I would be wrong to ask you to take this knowing that.” He chuckled. Dominic did the instinctive pat around his clothes to make sure his shirt was neat and pulled down to hide his pump. “Do you cook often? If you’re this good with spices, than you know how much the school lacks in it with the food sometimes.” The man was so used to homecooking for years because his abuelita made dinner for the entire family every night.
“Oh and..” He extended his hand for the other to shake. “I’m Dominic. Dom works too. I double major in medical and firearms/knives/swat training.”
“Matteo. I’m a firearms and knives major too.” He took his hand with a firm grip and shook it, with a nod of acknowledgement. He shrugged with nonchalance as he released Dom’s hand. “I cook when I can. If you’ve grown up on your abuela’s food, the level of spice here is fucking criminal. There’s only so much a man can take - “ Matteo was interrupted mid thought. He was slightly perturbed at how loquacious he had suddenly become. There were only two things that set him off like this, bad fighting form and bad food. “Should you eat something more substantial? Before I have to carry you to the medic bay in five minutes.” He pivoted the conversation, his stern tone dancing on the edge of teasing in his attempt at humour.
She shrugged, “Alright, that works for me, too.” Grace sat herself down beside him at the edge of the pool, though she kept her distance at a few feet, knowing that solitude was what he both wanted. She stretched her arm out slightly to reach for his bottle, glancing at him to make sure he was okay with her taking a swig. It hadn’t even occurred to her she hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since she arrived at Gallagher, and at that point, the whiskey might’ve been the salvation she was looking for. Grace took three big gulps, grimacing softly at the sting as it poured down her throat. “Merde, that’s really strong.” she winced.
“What good is alcohol if it’s weak?” At her reaction, he laughed. His laugh was quiet, it caught at the back of his throat as though his body refuses to let it escape. He took the bottle from her, taking a long draught from it before resting it carefully at a mid-way point between them. A comfortable warmth blooms from his chest and he feels the tightness in his heart that he carries around all day, loosen. “You’re new here?” He inquires, although it comes out more like a statement because it is not hard to distinguish the transfers from well, spies.
Matteo spent his evening shadowing one of the chefs tonight for a few hours, a role that he takes up from time to time when the kitchen is feeling accommodating. It comes at a cost though. He has not completed any of his usual evening training but his stringent standards compels him to sacrifice the night’s sleep for it even though he is exhausted.
The lights are dim in the dining hill and the students are long gone. A tall figure slips out of the kitchen door and makes its way through the school’s twisting hallways towards the gym, his boots hitting the ground with a hollow echo. His once-white shirt is splattered with a horrific amount of tomato sauce after an incident with a stubborn jar and his overly aggressive knife skills that are designed for combat, not the kitchen. He makes for a particularly unsettling shadow to encounter at the night.
Dominic never knew exactly how someone would react, but the reaction he just experienced was one of the more casual one. “I owe you one. My dumbass left my entire bag in my room without realizing it. I was starting to feel off and just thinking it was the heat.” He took the time to check the needle stuck in the side closest to his ribs. People always asked if he felt the needle, and truth be told, he didn’t. Dominic has to stick himself once or twice a day for most of his life, it was similar to putting a piercing in. Thank fuck he only had to shift some of the padding surrounding the needle.
“My Abuelita is the reigning queen of making her own spices. I’ve been having hot foods and flavoring since I could walk. This, actually made my day.” Dominic took a few of the chips, as he didn’t need too much and already felt bad taking the other’s food. The taste was strong and did warm his mouth. “Damn, these are good. Thank you. And yeah, you’re right..the spicy really kicks. Did you make these chips?” Dom reached into his pocket, pulling out a $5 dollar bill. “Here. I won’t take no for an answer.”
His face perks up slightly at abuelita. A rare, dull ache of homesickness washed over him, a sensation he had not felt since he was much younger. Hearing someone enjoy his food made him happier than he would have liked to admit. He had always found it easier to communicate through his cooking than with words. “Absolutely not.” His tone comes out much more authoritatively and sterner than intended. He quickly adds, “My abuela would come back from the dead and break into Gallagher just to slap the upside of my head if she knew I was profiting off her recipe.”
Grace sheepishly took his towel, alongside a soft, “Thank you,” as she made her way to the shallow end of the pool and wrapped it around her. She padded her way over to the lounge chair, and slipped her underwear on, eyeing him softly as she did. “Hey, sometimes fun comes first before the feelings,” Grace joked, though she shook her head at her own pithy attempt at a joke, “That was… truly terrible, I’m sorry. You can look now,” she added, as she fastened her bra and pulled the towel off her body. The now semi-clothed woman walked towards the stranger, offering his towel back, “I’m Grace, by the way. We can just keep on ignoring each other on the opposite ends of the pool if that’s what you want.”
He counted the lights on the ceiling absentmindedly to occupy himself as she dressed.The smallest smile touched his lips at her joke, disappearing as quickly as it came. “Matteo.” He replied with a succinct nod as he took the towel from her and draped it across a lounge chair to dry. It was quickly becoming clear to him that he was not going to have his time alone tonight and there was little chance he would be falling asleep after this. Instead, he retrieved his bottle of whiskey and sat down at the edge of the pool, dipping his bare feet in. “Or we could drink and ignore each other.”
Grace stilled at his expression, feeling slightly abashed that she might’ve disrupted the environment of the stranger’s only place of solace—then again, she was there for the same reason. At least, that’s what she assumed. Anyone awake at that hour making their way to a secluded place with a bottle of whiskey wasn’t someone willing to make new friends. “You don’t have to, it would be rude of me to kick you out of a place I don’t own. I just wanted some peace and quiet and to go for a swim for a little bit. Let me just grab my underwear, so you don’t feel… harrassed, for lack of a better term,” she mused, wading in the water to reach for her clothes.
“No, no. The pool is free real estate. First come, first served.” He holds a hand up in protest before her body is visible above the water. He’s not exactly shy when it comes to nudity, he grew up in Europe for goodness sake but he is still old-fashioned in that way. Matteo set down his bottle of whisky to the side of the water with a soft clink. He quickly pulled off the towel draped around his neck and offered it to her, craning his head away from her. “I’d usually buy someone dinner before we got to this.” He commented drily in an attempt to diffuse the tension that he realised was mostly his fault.
Dominic having type one diabetes wasn’t a problem to him, and he always managed to be prepared. His insulin had to be administered once a day, and his blood sugar levels being naturally low meant there were times when he needed to eat a snack. At the moment he’d been in one of the main hallways after spending hours working on a medical assignment with a classmate when his watch started beeping, meaning he needed to eat something.
“Fuck. I forgot my snacks in my room.” Dominic had been moving too fast when he heard a moderately loud sound hit the floor behind him. He didn’t realize that the base of his insulin pump had fallen to the ground because it had been caught on the door. This didn’t cause any panic because it happened all the time, but when he bent over he noticed the reaction to the person behind him.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He chuckled at their reaction before connection the pump back to the left side of his stomach and the pump connected back to his pants. “Also, would you happen to have any snacks on you?”
Matteo was more perturbed by what the appropriate course of action was rather than the surprise appearance of the equipment itself. Am I meant to pick it up for them? Is that okay? You would not be able to tell the flurry of thoughts passing his mind from the stony expression on his face. He composed himself, berating himself silently for his reaction. “Yeah.” Matteo reaches into his bag and pulls out a small bag of his own homemade tortilla chips, dusted in red-orange flavoring. “Careful. It’s very spicy. If you can handle it.”
HANDS SLAM AGAINST THE TABLE IN FRONT OF HER . “ you’re looking at your worst. fucking. nightmare. ” stare locked . blue steel eyes narrowed . feigning a role of intimidation to the best of her ability . — and then she’s blinking . demeanor changing . doe eyes reappearing . asking your approval . “ what do you think ? does it feel . . . real ? the truth. i can take it . ” // @gallagherstart
Matteo holds her gaze unflinchingly, ignoring the harsh sound of her hand upon impact. As her character switches almost seamlessly, he sits back into his chair. Lennon is one of the few people in the school he feels as though he can somewhat relax around. He purses his lips ever so slightly, a habit of his when he is carefully placing his words. “The slamming was maybe a bit too...Hollywood.”
grace was surprised she hadn’t thought of it sooner. she found it more peaceful at night because everyone (mostly everyone) was sleep, and she loved being near water. there weren’t too many leisure-related rules enforced upon her orientation, and even if there were, she hardly thought skinny dipping was an offense by any stretch.
after minutes of ruminating, she finally grabbed her towel and headed to the pool, unsurprised that it was empty at midnight. grace stripped down, left her clothes on a lounge chair, and waded in, before submerging herself completely to savor the silence underwater. she did it a few times in an attempt to alleviate her stress—and it did, surprisingly.
she turned around at the sound of footsteps, a smile already on her face. “bonsoir. care to join me?”
For a moment, his entire body tensed up - a deer caught in the headlights. His grip on the half bottle of whisky that was swinging casually moments earlier tightened and he stood up straighter. To him, there was nothing worse than an intrusion to what he had anticipated to be his time to himself, a sanctity. From time to time, he would venture to the school’s pool at a time he was certain it would be empty and dip his feet into the chilled water, enjoying a drink. It was the closest surrogate to the seaside town he called home. His eyes flickered to the small mound of clothes on the chair and finally made eye contact with the girl, his gaze not giving much thought or emotion away. “I can go.”
⌠ aron piper, 22, cis-male, he/him ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, matteo cipriano! according to their records, they’re a second year, specializing in knife fighting skills, sword training, precision shooting, firearms & swat training; and they did go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (a closely shaved head, a bottle of whisky, combat boots). when it’s the (virgo)’s birthday on 8/27/1997, they always request their crema catalana from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation. ⌿
hola folks! i’m sav!! just going to do a quick intro bc i haven’t totally fleshed this bb out and i’m hella excited to start rp’ing with u all.
personality/character
he suffers from massive RBF, the boy will not smile. just bc of his upbringing, he can come off a bit emotionless and stone-faced but promise he does have a sense of humour tucked away.
he’s got very strict standards for himself - he’s awake at 4am to go to the gym and train.
but he can be a bit impulsive - if something is a bit dangerous/destructive, he’ll dive headfirst into it.
he’s a man of his word, he keeps his promises at all costs n is v punctual.
got a bit of a commitment/trust complex, innit but who doesn’t?
biography points
he comes from a political family in spain with his father being a diplomat so he’s grown up his whole life around espionage/secrets/etc. also, he’s lived in a lot of places and knows bits and pieces of random languages but doesn’t really have a great attachment to his parents.
he grew up mostly with his maternal grandmother in valencia, spain but after that he was sent to boarding schools + prep schools - he takes his training very seriously, even going beyond what’s required most of the time because he wants to be the best - he’s kind of built to be a spy.
he’s going through a thing right now where he’s a bit burnt out and wondering if being a spy is really what he wants to do with his life?!?! an existential crisis
random facts
he’s a chef boi! he likes to cook, it’s therapeutic (reminds him of his grandma), quiet and uses precise knife skills - all his favourite things in one (is this bc i’ve been watching too much bon appetit?? ABSOLUTELY)
he’s in room 307, his dorm is 100% at all times stocked up on whisky (his only vice - he won’t smoke bc his body is a temple and he’s got double standards, ok)
he shaves his head most of the time bc he just thinks it’s more efficient
