“Oliver, no - no babe, are you trying to give me a damn heart attack? That sauce is about as bland as a newscaster in suburbia. No, you need to add more. That right there!” Her words failing her, Frances merely pointed to the rest of the dried chili pepper. Despite the plenty of years’ experience Oliver and the rest of Ollie’s crew had under their belt, it wasn’t uncommon for the older Italian to wander into the establishment and hand out her two cents like they were golden. After all, she had taught her godson his love of cooking, and he had gone far from there! Ever proud, but ever a pest, Frances continued over his shoulder, “Do I need to start taking up part-time shifts here too?”
“Listen, you’re going to be my date next Friday night and I don’t care if you have some club to go to, or photoshoot, or whatever it is you young people get up to on the weekends nowadays, because I’m desperate to see this old school horror flick at Atlantis-In but there is no way in hell I’m braving that shit alone. You hear me? I will possibly cry if you don’t say yes.” Frances had adopted her hilarious ‘mom voice’ to speak the girl - something she doubted Diamond to mind. Ever since the Washington woman had lost her own mother, she had wandered into Honey’s Bakery to visit Frances. And over time, the two had come to build a bond between one another. After all, they knew what it was like to have loved ones ripped away from you, and far too soon.
Teagan was quickly running out of sweets, well she was down to her last cinnamon bun and she needed to change that. Throwing on a pair of sweats and a shirt she grabbed her purse before leaving her apartment to head over to the bakery.
Once there she looked at the display cases to see what was in today before stepping up to the register She always had a large order so the staff was used to it but she did get looks from some of the other customers in there. And today was no different. “I like sweets. Don’t judge me.” She shrugged some.
Frances watched as the other customer gave the younger woman a stare, which could only read as slightly judgmental. Slightly impressed, though. The bakery owner’s lips twitched before she addressed Teagan, “You know, even I’m a little worried about your arteries, and I run the place. So obviously I want the sales.”
Did that mean she’d stop her? Or anyone else for that matter? No. She wasn’t here to be anyone’s doctor. Oh except she kind of was, wasn’t she? But Doctor Faust had long since died, and Frances Lewis lived on. “So, are you going to dash off like last time, or will you keep me company today?”
“Hey…” She calls out to the only other person in the cemetery, pulling their attention as she hops of the gravestone she’s been perched on for the last thirty minutes or so. It’s an 8pm flavor of dark - pitch enough to call night, early enough to not get murdered under regular circumstances.
“Can I borrow you for a second? You’ve seen a true crime show before, right? Like… Law and Order? Buzzfeed’s true crime series. Anything…?”
She clearly doesn’t expect a lot from the average Chicagoan. In her hand, Juliet holds onto a single photograph pressed onto cheap paper ( last year’s surplus didn’t go towards the printers).
“I just need a fresh pair of eyes for a second.”
She flips the folded sheet between her fingers like a playing card, so that the image faces the other. Boots pad closer to the other so that she can shine the light of her cellphone up to illuminate them.
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’m stuck in an episode of The Twilight Zone?” the brunette humored with a twist of her expression, warm brown eyes skimming over the distasteful photo shoved in front of her face. Frances had come to the cemetery to pay her respects to her former husband; she was hardly in the mood to help rectify a cold case. Or an ongoing one, for that matter.
“Suicide,” she lied without a falter in expression, as effortless as one breathed air. Perhaps it was her annoyance at being targeted in a cemetery of all places, or perhaps it was her grief weighing on her shoulders already. In any case, maybe she’d just saved the younger woman’s next target from a pop quiz, “My gut reaction is suicide.”
Jace’s chest heaved as he felt the cool Chicago air prickle against his too warm skin. He’d taken a lot before he left the hotel, more of the drug than he normally would have. But, he needed it. Fuck, he knew it was bad and he knew the consequences if and when someone found out. Luckily, it was only Ophelia at the moment, and he could trust her. Well, at least he hoped he could.
All he could feel right now was rage. It boiled up inside of him and it was spilling to the outside of his body as well. His cheeks were too flushed, sweat beaded along his brow and upper lip. It was due to the drug. He’d made it that way. He was the one to engineer the consequences that came with taking it and he had decided to do it anyway. It was too late now. As much as he’d never admit, he was hooked.
What sent him into this particular spell tonight, was the failure of the first trial. He’d worked day and night, it was the reason he started taking BUA in the first place, to get the first test of the paralytic out and it had failed. He knew it wouldn’t be perfect, hell, he even told Richie and the medics it wasn’t going to be right on the first try, but it still didn’t prepare him for it. So, instead of immediately going and reworking it, he left. Went to the nearest bar and drank.
White-knuckling the beer bottle in his hands as he stood in the alleyway, he let out a frustrated grunt and launched the bottle as hard as he could toward the opposite brick wall. The impact immediately shattered the bottle, but that wasn’t enough. He needed more things to break. However, before he could go searching through the trash like a goddamn feral raccoon, he heard footsteps behind him. His voice gruff, he called out, “Unless you’re giving me another bottle to throw, I’d really suggest you leave.”
“Shit. I left all the glasses back in the bar?” Frances replied with a scrunched nose, gaze flickering between the alleyway door and the young man. Her tone was playfully light - a stark contrast to his. The brunette figured a horrible night made for heavy drinking and heavy smashing, and who was she to judge? Her family were fond of their own turmoil. “Should I go back inside and get one, or do you think that’ll kill the mood?”
As if to prove her joke merely that, Frances walked further into the alley. She needed a breather and the bar provided little room for such. Frankly, she wasn’t much of a bar / club goer at her age. In her youth? Perhaps. But she’d always preferred an adventure over a wild night. And yes, they were certainly not interchangeable. “Why don’t you break something bigger? Bottles won’t do you much good. You need like a - like a junkyard. A car to fuck up.”
( marisa tomei, 53, cis female, she/her, cousin ) Did anyone else just see FRANCESCA ‘FRANCES’ LEWIS NEE FAUST ? I hear for the FAUST family they can be a bit FINICKY & OBJECTIVE. But I also heard they can be WISE & MOTHERLY. If you dare, I hear they frequent ATLANTIS - IN in their spare time when they aren’t being a MEDIC / OWNER OF HONEY’S BAKERY. Tread carefully or else you might be next on their list !
biography ( tw: weapons, illness / death ):
francesca lucia filomena faust is a girl crafted after tuscany summers and renaissance paintings. a woman beloved by her family and by the ones lucky enough to 'bask in her afterglow.’
first cousin of matthew faust, former leader of the mafia, francesca grows up the ‘golden girl’ of the faust family. she’s too sweet, too warm. they keep her sheltered for a good part of her childhood before enough’s enough. time to teach their darling girl the ropes, if only to protect her from the horrors of their business.
she doesn’t take to the business - not as well as her cousin does. that’s not to say she wasn’t gifted in certain parts of the trade. in fact, she’s very gifted with guns. recognizing she’s not much of a close range fighter, they teach her how to be a sniper and she soars. but any firearm will do.
yet she prefers to heal than harm, and they allow her to ever so slowly break away from their dirty missions to discover medicine. they do this with pressed smiles. they want her as a gunner, but she’ll become a medic. if she has to be anything at all.
francesca goes to medical school. she’s exceptionally brilliant and charming, and it serves her well. after all, she did graduate high school early. doctor faust is a title on the tip of tongues at every sunday dinner.
love changes her future drastically, in the form of a man named abraham lewis. it’s just after she’s graduated med school that he waltzes into her life, uproots it, and teaches her warmth again. she realizes she’s lost it over the years.
honey’s bakery is abe’s family’s business. passed down generations like the mafia has for the fausts. francesca and abraham marry a year later and she decides to throw away her titles in favor of a renewed hope. her family keep her as a ‘part-time medic’ and she obliges. she loves them, after all.
a few years ago, francesca suffers a loss so great it leaves her breathless. abe experiences a heart attack and dies on the way to the hospital. it’s sudden and surprising and she doesn’t know what to do. in his will, he leaves the bakery to her. it’s their child, they’d joke. they never had the time ( or the luck ) to have kids.
in his memory, she runs neutral ground. honey’s bakery is known for every walk of life coming through its doors to get a taste of warmth in a city of cold intentions. and she’s hellbent on keeping it that way. her family do not push her for the territory, but she is supplied security to keep things running smoothly for customers. and for her well-being.
frances lewis is an alias she’s adopted since her marriage. because of her name and her business, not many turn their heads for revenge or cruel fun. she doesn’t go around announcing she’s a faust, either.
plus, there’ll be a number of pissed off customers if someone lays a hand on the brunette. she’s known around chicago as ‘mom’ and ‘aunt’ and ‘godmother’ and ‘friend.’ without her? who’ll bake that perfect fucking maple bacon cupcake, and serve it with a playful joke? no one could live up to the creations she and her former husband have perfected, and no one could do it with a better grin.
details:
frances worked for her family until she was nearing her graduation as a doctor. during her years in the faust family business, she served mainly as a sniper. she’s still great with her marksmanship and guns in general, but she’s horrible at close combat / other weapons / endurance / etc.
she is technically a doctor, but she’s never enforced the title. in fact, she’s sorta kicked that old dream to the curb because she adores the bakery so much. while she is an amazing cook / baker thanks to her italian upbringing and her husband’s passion, she sees the bakery as a child she and her former husband shared. and that’s why it holds such a dear place in her heart.
frances doesn’t involve herself too heavily with the family business. in fact, the majority of the time, she simply doesn’t want to know what’s going on unless it may concern her or puts her immediate family in harm’s way. as for everything else? the faust kids are all adults now, they can handle it without her getting in the dang way. her words exactly. the only time she works for the mafia is when they need her to perform as a doctor in dire circumstances. she huffs a lot about doing this, but she does it.
family is everything to frances. and while hers has its fair share of interesting dynamics, she wouldn’t trade them for the world. it’s safe to say she’s the mom of the group, visiting the faust manor for dinners and celebrations and bringing all the sweets with her. she spoils her loved ones, and insists on maintaining that old-fashioned italian family values.
she carries a lot of the faust cookbooks passed down. she helped teach oliver his love of cooking and probably forced most of her family to learn a thing or two in the kitchen. she is always visiting ollie’s just to be a perfectionist / pest and correcting sauces, dishes, etc.
she enjoys visiting atlantis-in because #nostalgia. when she was a kid, she definitely went to a lot of drive-in theaters with dates and got up to her own mischief. she loves films and shows and she’s actually up to date on that. want some movie recs? she’s got a thousand lined up. has a soft spot for foreign films / older films.
frances is bisexual, biromantic. she has dated both men and women, and she hardly cares which. the last few years she has leaned more towards women, though.
she speaks the following languages: english, italian, basic latin, average spanish, french, american sign language.
when she’s emotional ( angry, upset, etc ), she rambles in italian. a lot of hand gestures, a lot of hilarious italian cuss words / slang. it’s truly a spectacle.
has an alley cat she takes care of called ‘little shit.’ that’s literally it. she loves the little shit, feeds the little shit, keeps an eye out for him. but he’s a pain in her ass.
wanted connections:
all of them
faust family dynamics
best friend around her age
childhood friend ( chicago native )
penpal/s
family friends
friends
neighbors ( lives in her own house )
ex husband’s friends / family / connections
employees
frequenters at the bakery
security for the bakery
someone/s she patched up as a medic / doc student
college folks
medical folks she’s met ( doctors, nurses, etc ) somehow
exes from before her marriage ( she’s bisexual )
maybe one ex after her marriage but it was shitty and way too soon to date for her
ex / current flings, one night stands, blind / regular dates
people she mothers / practically adopted
people she babysits for
( unrequited ) crush on her
( unrequited ) crush she has one someone
enemies / rivals
someone who’s an enemy and maybe knows who she is but they’re like dammit i like your bakery too much and you’re chill so i’ll keep it on the down low
someone/s who saved her throughout her life
someone who calls her when they’re drunk or w/e and need her to come and pick them up / let them sleep shit off on her couch and they’re such a hassle but she does it
