[ilfurfante]

Vincenzo Cassano from the K-Drama, Vincenzo. Lawyer and Ex-Mafia. Written by Danna.

Very loosely based on the canon material.

Rules and About in progress.

Temporarily private.

- Mutuals only.

- Familiarity with the canon material is not required and preferred. I take liberties with his character to better suit my aesthetics and make him more interesting to play on Tumblr.

- 20+ only.

- No godmodding or metagaming.

- Underestimate him. Do it. :)

[1liv]

[ilfurfante]

It’s a message left for him, on a call that’s not really made. Roman’s called his voicemail box directly. Lots of programs for that one, readily available, free even most of the time. “Hey Vincenzo. Sorry I missed ya. Hope my gift found ya well, had those plucked special, just for you as a little welcome to Gotham. Fresh and juicy, definitely premium shit. Know ya said you never wanted t’see me again, but, with what ya did we both know I just couldn’t stay away. I know your other two friends wouldn’t have been as keen on their feet as me. But I ain’t your usual stereotypical criminal underworld shit. I’m premium shit, friend.” A hearty sigh into the receiver. “Listen, I got shit I gotta do, my plants are still fresh even after I sent you their fruits. So I gotta start trimmin’ off some dread branches. Be seein’ ya around, kiddo.”

He'd flung his phone from his pocket eager to make a call when he'd noticed another message had been waiting for him. A voicemail without a missed call. He knew who it was. It would have been ignored if he didn't. Tentatively he listened growing more and more anxious coming to a rise when the talk of gardening came on the scene. By the time the phone call ended, he was about to burst at the seams. With a shout, he kicked his desk as he'd as he could and punched at the wall. Damn it! Damn it all!

This sick fuck unraveled everything and has a knife at his throat already. This wasent good news for him. Not at all. He'd be damned if this faker ran him out of town and showed him up. Go ahead and torture your rats, scum. He held his head in his hand and exhaled harshly. There goes his plans for that.

Nobody in their right mind in Gotham would go against Roman. Not even his own men could survive a month when he had them tied down and they should've known better than the rest. Anyone he'd try here wouldn't work. They'd die or sell him out. He'd already been told that before he even came here. Guess he learned better now. Fine then. Fine. Bring some guys in. Keep watch on himself. Lay low away from Roman. When enough time passes, he'll bring people in who are worth a damn.

[ilfurfante]

The box is pleasant figured Belizean rosewood, ornately carved by an experts hand. The intricate shapes finely rounded so even to the touch this wooden box was pleasant to behold, etchings and an emboss wrap around the whole underneath of the lid, a portion of it so carefully carved around the twenty-four carat plate that struck out beautifully against the wood, it is complimented by the black-lined in-lay etching that loving said ‘for my new friend Vincenzo’. Upon opening the box a sheet of black-washed leather lays facedown over the contents, the dyed black fur on the outer side facing the opener and when lifted reveals the gifted contents within. Ten long middle fingers, very uncleanly cut or removed from five different former wielders, the blood staining and messily splattered across the suede white interior that had been hidden by the leather covering. Each one is set into slots that appear to have been made for fine cigars.

It was waiting for him in his office set neatly in the middle of his desk. Someone had come in and left with the door locked. It wasent a big enough office to hide in, yet still approached with caution. It was a beautiful box. Gorgeous even. As he rounded the desk, he wondered at what was inside. Who had visited him. Who went through the trouble? It could be a bomb. It wasent unusual among the dark underbelly of the world, but alot of effort for someone like him who'd been here just a little over two months. Hardly long enough to make waves. His clients have been interested in private settlements for the most part, and pressuring these mooks wasent all that hard either. For all their boisterousness, Gothamites weren't all that impressive. At least, compared to true blooded Italians.

So who sent this? And why? And what was inside? He was hesitating. Putting it off. Friend. Surely many thought they were on friendly terms with him but friend? It wasent what it sounded like. This wasent from a friend. This trouble wouldn't have been gone through. What if it's a bomb? Not this again. Well he can't just leave it here. His hands delicately smooth over the box. He presses his ear against it. Smelled it. Shook it even. It gave him absolutely no useful information.

Okay. Fuck it. He flicked it open quickly. And....he was still here. It wasent a bomb. He released a breath he didn't know he had held. Black fur. Beautiful presentation. It was carefully picked up And then imediately thrown back down again. He fell over himself and back into the wall. No way. No fucking way. His stomach was turning. No fucking way. From that single glimpse, he knew what it was and who it was from. He just KNEW.

How? How did he get them all? When the other two didn't suspect a damn thing, here was Roman fucking Sionis with this. This was insane. This was bad. Really bad. He was going to have to hire guards now. Damnit all. His ear into Roman's operations gone. He was made. He should get out of town. Leave. It was only going to get messy from here. Ah....but if he fled now he might as well never come back again.

He shoved his knuckles against his eye. Damn damn damn damn. Americans! Even with how tightly he latched their collars they still found a way to fuck it up. They must have had a very unpleasant death.

Okay. He was hiring his guards from out of town then.

[coffinfaced]

ilfurfante​:

Let him. It was unpleasant, but that’s how it worked. Roman was part of the heads that owned Gotham. They all had their turf and, this was messy business. He knew that before he decided to come here, though. 

Vincenzo was far from looking to save any underfunded anything knowing they won’t have enough to pay for his fee by far, but he didn’t correct his tasteless joke. So far, the only difficulty he could see in planting a rat is keeping them alive. But he had yet to see that famous temper. Perhaps it was overinflated? Rumors could get dramatic.

“Like I said,” he hummed, leaning back. “I have no interest in crossing paths with you. Far d’una mosca un elefante.” (Don’t make an elephant out of a fly.)

Vincenzo was not so foolhardy that he would ask to leave or leave on his own, but the talk of business was pretty much over. Falcone kept him over for drinks for a few hours, Maroni for dinner, both equally charmed by him. He didn’t bother with any of that ‘charm’ with Roman. It wouldn’t work. Hopefully that meant this was the end of it.

Roman’s macabre visage lilts a little, hanging loose on sunken shoulders. His neck jolts, straining involuntarily as the Italian spoken at him burns some lingering unpleasant memories into the forefront of his mind. He can feel his whole face twitch under the stony features of his mask. Masking it with a faint bemused chuckle.

“Nessuna mosca qui. Solo una zanzara succhiasangue.” (No flies here. Just a bloodsucking mosquito.) Roman, with a strong open palm, strikes the surface of his desk with violent gusto. Sending the other few warm bodies in the room reeling at the sudden noise and movement. Something long associated with pain.

“Then I think that means you and I won’t have any issues.” You want faux pleasantries, idle threats made at the end of sweet compliments, you go to Falcone, The Roman. You want backstabbing deals and for someone to put concrete shoes on you, and throw you in the harbor with a smile you go to Moron Maroni. You want someone to gouge your eyes out, light a cigar, and then keep kicking you while you’re reeling in agony, you piss off Roman Sionis.

When Roman looks back up there’s an uneasy pleasantness in his marred stare. Something of an unstable mood, very much on the verge of teetering in either direction. Pretending is very much keeping that static-like haze in his mind from burning out. How dare this little shit remind him of his parents.

“May we have no future interaction, and may your future endeavors be fruitful–” 

[ilfurfante]

Oh nice. A mosquito. He smiled through the insult feeling anything but pleased to hear it. This guy was a real class act. He was surprised he didn't spit on the ground and sniff his pits while he was at it, the neanderthal. On a more positive note, that seemed to be enough. They were wrapping up. Just what he wanted to hear. The way everyone jumped when Roman made a simple noise was all the more reason he wanted to leave.

Ah. He felt it then. That rise in tension. Vincenzo's head tilted just so. Why did it suddenly feel as though he were eye to eye with a crocodile neck deep in a lake. Unwilling to interrupt his closing, he came to a rise and gave a small bow of his head. He wasent given a handshake to start, he surely wasent giving it to end.

[sjoongki]

SONG JOONG KI for VOGUE HONG KONG (March 2022) 

[ilfurfante]

coffinfaced​:

They’re crisp, scar tissue long by now, but Roman can feel the muscles in his face twist and tug at themselves. Wanting to form facial features his ruined face can no longer make in its ruinous state. Bloodshot eyes don’t blink, they instead very intensely burn holes in ‘Vincenzo Cassano’. He talks very particularly. Trained at the approach, and Roman is so used to dealing with absolute fucking morons.

Lawyer and criminal. Wondered how long he’d last before he pissed in the wrong beer, or shat on the wrong doorstep. Fingers tense underneath their leather sheathes, but Roman maintains himself. Fingers steepled, quietly listening.

“Let me say this, because to be honest I’m not the sort to like tiptoeing the line, and testing boundaries.” Roman presses his palms flatly against the surface of his workspace, pushing himself to his feet. “No specialty, no set area of law. S’good, I can work with that. But what I want is for that to mean you don’t fuck with my business, you don’t join in any litigation against me or my company. Then we won’t have any problems, and I’ll let you run around hugging any tree you feel like, or saving any disenfranchised youth centers I happen to not be the one bulldozing.” 

Not that Roman was particularly threatened by the guy. He was one man, one lawyer. But hey, the IRS got Capone on tax fraud. So, Mask really just wanted to make sure the pecking order was clear and not up for any sort of confusion.

Let him. It was unpleasant, but that’s how it worked. Roman was part of the heads that owned Gotham. They all had their turf and, this was messy business. He knew that before he decided to come here, though. 

Vincenzo was far from looking to save any underfunded anything knowing they won’t have enough to pay for his fee by far, but he didn’t correct his tasteless joke. So far, the only difficulty he could see in planting a rat is keeping them alive. But he had yet to see that famous temper. Perhaps it was overinflated? Rumors could get dramatic.

“Like I said,” he hummed, leaning back. “I have no interest in crossing paths with you. Far d’una mosca un elefante.” (Don’t make an elephant out of a fly.)

Vincenzo was not so foolhardy that he would ask to leave or leave on his own, but the talk of business was pretty much over. Falcone kept him over for drinks for a few hours, Maroni for dinner, both equally charmed by him. He didn’t bother with any of that ‘charm’ with Roman. It wouldn’t work. Hopefully that meant this was the end of it.

[ilfurfante]

Slow brain hours but I'm really planning to dedicate alot of time here soon.

[sjoongki]

SONG JOONG KI for VOGUE HONG KONG (March 2022)

[coffinfaced]

ilfurfante​:

He inhales sharply, tongue rolling in his mouth. It’s an insult but one taken on the chin. Not the first time he’s been disrespected. Won’t be the last. He straightened his suit, readjusted his tie, and sat down in his chair, arms coming to rest on the sides. 

Vincenzo wasen’t surprised Roman knew about him. After all, he’d already visited Maroni and Falconi. It’s not like he just arrived. “Well. Believe me. That’s not what I’m looking to do.” His hands folded in front of him propped up by his elbows. There were so many wires running in Gotham you could trip over one on y our way to the bathroom in your own house. Every step here had to be careful. 

He was purposeful holding his eyes when gaze set on him rather than staring at his mask. Gruesome. Hiding something even more gruesome. Being prepared made it easier. “With what I intend, I figured it may look that way. So I wanted to be sure to visit you in person, that way you could hear my intentions personally. I was actually thinking of opening a private firm in Gotham.” And such a practice would only ally with a single group, if one at all. And coming from the Italian mafia, he would most certainly be doing that. “It’s a very profitable city. No shortage of cases or need.” Or money.

Nerves are dead, face is fried near to the bone beneath that mask he wore. Yet in spite of it all he can feel nerves and muscles pull and twitch at his cheek, raggedly does unseen scarred flesh contort itself into an unamused scowl while the other speaks, prattles. Roman isn’t listening to the fullest. What he says has little sway or interest in anything pertaining to the crime lord or his businesses.

Sunken sagging eyes are fixated, watching this polite little rube dance his way around the subject. Act like just because he wasn’t infringing on anyone’s direct territory or business, that his being here and setting up shop wasn’t an act of invasion. Made himself an enemy. “Private firm. A lawyer.” Roman’s fury is noted in the gaze, carried in that bloodshot stare even as Roman remains ever statuesque and stoic.

“I don’t like lawyers. Bloodsuckin’ greedy little shitbags you are. Latchin’ on to whatever animal you can find, and bleedin’ it until it can’t even stand up.” Hanging back, Black Masks slumps himself against overstuffed chair. “And do you ever share? No. Not fuckin’ once.” His neck tenses, a jolt up his spine and he twists it a bit, letting vertebrae pop a bit–

“So! Seein’ as how this is the place you want to set up shop, I gotta ask. What sort of cases do you plan on takin’? And how out of my business do you plan to stay, Mr. Cassano?”

[ilfurfante]

Rich coming from you. As if Roman Sionis was the pinnacle of all things good and righteous. Oh he'd heard the stories alright. They were the only reason he bothered in visiting this disgraceful excuse of a man. This monster in human flesh. Or what was left of it.

"I don't specialize in a single area of law," he answered truthfully. There was nothing he couldn't take care of. "So it would simply depend on what my client requests of me." Vague non-answer.

Vincenzo gives a tight lipped smile. "As for being in your business, nothing could be further from my interest. I intend to stay as far from it as possible." And you.

He answers the questions honestly and carefully worded, not giving anything more than what was requested of him. This was shark infested water he was sitting in right now. He didn't need to cut himself in it. There were people you push and then there are people you leave alone. Vincenzo could push many more people than most, but pissing off a rabid dog with a faux Mafia wasent someone he was willing to try. At least, not now. He was new to this city. This time was the most crucial if he intended to set up shop here. It could be the difference between living one day and dying the next.

[ofmanytxngues]

ilfurfante​:

His lips twisted up in a wry smile, the soft expression of careful concern slipping. That was the right question. 

“Because I can make all of this go away.”

He didn’t give one lick about this slimy little cultist or his interest in pushing around small time journalists. All he had to offer was money. And Vincenzo learned through research of  Marie that she could be far more useful to him than that. 

“More than that,” he hummed, pulling out a considerably thicker stack of papers, ”I can help you take care of him.”

There was evident caution as she regarded what he said, what he was offering. People didn’t usually turn around like this. No, her hunt for this cult had been on her the majority of the time. “You’re willing to sell your client out?” Marie scrutinized Vincenzo as she slowly sat up straight. That wasn’t right nor accurate; he was willing to feed his client to the wolves.

To a starved lamb, one that was far too self-aware to ever return to her role in the food chain and could no longer be satisfied by greens alone.

She glanced to the papers he pulled out but didn’t dare reach for them. This was so direct, so simply put. Too easy. Her gaze lifted back to his face, “What do you get out of doing this? I’m sure he’s already paying you more than I could fathom.” So it wasn’t money and based on things she has heard regarding Vincenzo, she doubted it was out of the goodness of his heart either.

[ilfurfante]

Selling out his client? Perhaps if it was ever a client he planned to take in the first place, he would think twice. No, Marie was the start of this little game to begin with. He smirked for a moment and relaxed back in his chair, waving a finger towards the large contract. His hands folded neatly over his knee.

"I think you could be very useful to me. Your ability to dig up information on the ground floor isn't something people could necessarily buy. In fact, I believe you already have a wealth of information that I would be interested in." Vincenzo's head tilts with self satisfaction. "Una mano lava l'altra." (Quid pro quo.)

[ilfurfante]

@lawfulchaotics​ Tae-Moo

A slick back of the hair and adjustment of the suit, the game he new best was about to begin. So much of it was done the same exact way every time, but that was one of the principles of the Mafia. Following the rules, tradition, and not breaking things that don’t need to be broken. 

He followed his escort to what he would assume to be his new client’s office taking in all of the sights the building had to offer. It was very well maintained. Cleaned. Certainly not new, but that wasn't a bad thing. A strong building required good bones and one of the best tests of that was time. Once he beheld the technology inside of the office, however, a few things clicked into place. Practicality, the biggest.

“Vincenzo Cassano,” he smiles, extending his hand. “A pleasure to meet you in person, 강태무 사장님.” (President Kang Tae-Moo) Vincenzo is well aware that a handshake is not a common way of greeting here in Korea. Even though he did not spend alot of collective time here, it was still his native country. But it was not his mother country. A handshake was your first real gauge on how a person’s nature was-the way they shook your hand. “I’m hoping our partnership together will be a long one.”

[ilfurfante]

ofmanytxngues​:

The door shut and was bolted but she opted to leave the chain off this time just in case. Turning to see him heading to the offered chair she looked around, struggling a moment then as she tried to account for the fact she had a guest. Swiftly snatching up some loose files she tossed them onto the bed on the opposite side of the small room, away from his line of sight.

Marie turned to sit but changed her mind, wandering over to the small fridge to grab two bottles of water, which she set down on the table. As she finally sat down she cast him a look that clearly said it was all she had available before finally settling. For about a second. When that name rolled off his tongue it was no doubt easy to see the rise of blood pressure; her gaze dimmed from the lightness it possessed and grew grim in an instant. Withering at the name alone.

But she listened closely because of course she would. Everything he said really only translated into Greg being rich and able to push things into a favorable direction for himself. Look at who he hired, after-all. The handle of the bat rested beside her hand as she leaned against one arm of the chair and rested her cheek within her palm. “Usually they send someone else out for a Cease and Desist.” It wasn’t her first time with one of these but the prior ones hardly were as important as this cultist in hiding. “Why are you invested in me understanding the severity of the situation, Mr. Cassano? Seems a bit out of your way to do considering I’m your client’s opposition.”

His lips twisted up in a wry smile, the soft expression of careful concern slipping. That was the right question. 

“Because I can make all of this go away.”

He didn’t give one lick about this slimy little cultist or his interest in pushing around small time journalists. All he had to offer was money. And Vincenzo learned through research of  Marie that she could be far more useful to him than that. 

“More than that,” he hummed, pulling out a considerably thicker stack of papers, ”I can help you take care of him.”

[ilfurfante]

ofmanytxngues​:

Her fingers curled upon the pommel of the bat tighter as she listened, as he smiled. It took quite a bit not to roll her eyes and slam the door in his face but Marie couldn’t fault him entirely for technically answering her. Even if it was a bit cheap.

She supposed she may be able to handle him if he became a problem. Nonetheless she’d try to be smart about this all, especially considering she couldn’t deny her interest in whatever sensitive information he may potentially possess. The door opened up and she didn’t care about the fact he could see plainly she was gripping a metal bat.

“You can sit over there, Mr. Cassano.” Marie motioned to a chair with her hand. Conveniently, one that was further from the door from where she’d be sitting - giving her ample time to get a head start if she needed to flee the room. As if she’d trust anyone making personal calls like this.

A bat? For a lawyer? Paranoid. Once again, she found a way to make surprise show on his face, but this was just an act. Doing the work that she does, she really ought to own a gun. Vincenzo straightened his suit and moved to the chair. The suitcase was placed on the table gently, his legs crossing as he sat. It was customary for drinks to be offered when guests show up at your door, but he didn’t have high hopes for that.

He looked around the meager dwellings, and though he attempted not to show it, he wasn't impressed. Vincenzo was a man used to the finer things in life. Earning them, yes, but always gifted that opportunity. Especially now. 

Politely, he waited to speak when she was settled and ready. He wasn't a particularly impatient man. “To get to the point. I represent Mr. Greg Mulligan.” He leaned a little closer making to hold eyes with her. The lawyer flicked open his briefcase and pulled out a document for her to read over.  “My client has filed a Cease and Desist order stating that you have been involved in stalking, harassment, and threatened assault on said client. Furthermore, Mr. Mulligan requests that you leave city limits immediately, or he may be forced to press charges which may involve immediate jail time. As this is a serious matter that involves a particularly short time frame, I made sure to arrive in person to make sure you understood the severity of this situation.” Stop poking your nose in other people’s business. 

His voice grew soft, caring. Such a shame that it’s come to this. “Unfortunately, Ms. Jannerd, he is not willing to postpone this any further.”

[ofmanytxngues]

ilfurfante​:

@ofmanytxngues​

​A steady rap knocked at door. One. Two. Three. Standing outside was a sharp dressed man in the finest Italian suits. Clear skin only possible by expensive creams. Nice haircut only done by the best stylist. He had a pleasant expression on his soft features that promised no ill will. A false face that hid himself well. 

Are you there? Of course she was. He’d been called when she returned. When she opened the door, a smile spread on his face.  “Marie Jannerd.“ He reached out a hand to shake hers, the other occupied by a thin leather briefcase. “Vincenzo Cassano.” His eyebrows rose and, he tilted his head towards the hotel room. “May I come in?”

He had to ask if she was there right as she was on the other side of the door, peering through the little hole. Who… Oh?! She stepped back, running her hands through her hair a moment as she decided what to do. It wasn’t often someone outright came to her hotel room and knew her name that wasn’t an employee of the joint.

Pulling her shorts lower and donning a sweater, Marie opened the door - carefully positioning it to be partially open so she could shove it closed with her leg if need be. Her hand, hidden behind the door, rested atop the pommel of her bat. Though she shook his hand his question was met with a slight squint, “Not until I know why you’re here, Mr. Cassano. Pretty sure I didn’t hire a lawyer recently.” She retracted her hand back to her side of the door, clearly knowing who he was to some degree.

[ilfurfante]

Oh? So she was that good. His name wasent exactly out there on billboards or up in lights, and those that did know who he was were likely people you didn't want to know. He wiped the evident surprise off of his face with a charming smile. It made no difference in the end. The goal was still the same.

"If you know I'm a lawyer, then you should know that I am here to discuss the law." His lips pushed together in a tight lipped smile. As if that wasent obvious. Giving him a hard time wouldn't work out for you in the end. It never does.

"Due to the sensitivity of the information to be discussed, I am unwilling to share any further details outside your door." He shrugged his shoulders."But if you don't wish to discuss this matter, then I'll simply have to proceed with the lawsuit as it stands."

[ilfurfante]

coffinfaced​:

Roman Sionis had never before been described as a patient man. Nor polite to any lost soul who found their way to his office. So, the hand extended, is certainly one scorned. Ignored in favor of a cold soulless stare, hands tented together over his desk until at least he shrugs his shoulders, palms turned to the air.

“Mr. Cassano. So glad you decided to come and see me instead’a pokin’ your nose about in my operations.” Roman had his teeth sunk about every venture here in Gotham, with roots dug in elsewhere too. So when anyone vaguely intriguing stuck their head out into the foul air of this fine cesspool of a city, Roman had a way of knowing. “Was wonderin’ when you were gonna stop by.”

He inhales sharply, tongue rolling in his mouth. It’s an insult but one taken on the chin. Not the first time he’s been disrespected. Won’t be the last. He straightened his suit, readjusted his tie, and sat down in his chair, arms coming to rest on the sides. 

Vincenzo wasen’t surprised Roman knew about him. After all, he’d already visited Maroni and Falconi. It’s not like he just arrived. “Well. Believe me. That’s not what I’m looking to do.” His hands folded in front of him propped up by his elbows. There were so many wires running in Gotham you could trip over one on y our way to the bathroom in your own house. Every step here had to be careful. 

He was purposeful holding his eyes when gaze set on him rather than staring at his mask. Gruesome. Hiding something even more gruesome. Being prepared made it easier. “With what I intend, I figured it may look that way. So I wanted to be sure to visit you in person, that way you could hear my intentions personally. I was actually thinking of opening a private firm in Gotham.” And such a practice would only ally with a single group, if one at all. And coming from the Italian mafia, he would most certainly be doing that. “It’s a very profitable city. No shortage of cases or need.” Or money.

[ilfurfante]

@coffinfaced​

​Vincenzo reached a hand out in greeting. “Vincenzo Cassano. An honor to meet you, Mr. Sionis.” The proper way to greet any ‘Don’ or acting ‘Don’ unless you want to cause disrespect. And that was exactly what he was trying to prevent. Though this wasen’t officially a mafia, was it? 

“Thank you for seeing me.” He was warned about this man’s nature, amongst other things. Being in town here could easily get him on his bad side if he stepped on toes without a second chance to say sorry. Roman had a huge empire here. Vincenzo was just one man. He couldn’t take on people like this. He didn’t want to. So he wouldn’t. “I won’t take up too much of your time.”