Drawtober Film 15: Deuces Wild
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@marcovendetti
Drawtober Film 15: Deuces Wild
"What’s the matter with me seeing you at Fritzy’s?" he furrowed his brows, glancing over her as he waved off the offer. "You’re not a Deuce are you— because let me tell you, I’m the last person you want to let that be known to."
She sighed, already feeling nervous that this was going to be more trouble than it was worth. Inhaling on the cigarette, her hand shaking slightly she raised her eyes to him. Shaking her head she moved off the wall to walk past him. “Forget it Marco. I just don’t want people talking my business is all. If’ I’m there then that’s my business.” Going to step around him, purposefully ignoring his question. Of course she was a Deuce, but she was also a spy, not that it mattered, she was in deep trouble if Marco found out. A fact she was quickly realizing.
" ‘Forget it’?" he asked, looking after her. He had half a mind to grab her back to him, have a talk with him face to face, but her body language told him everything. "I won’t ever forget a single damn thing a Deuce tries to sell me."
"Of course I remember you, I— how could I forget?" he asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and shaking his head. "I’m sorry to hear about him, but I’m sure he’s glad to see you again as well. Have you been in for a while now?" He felt so suddenly nostalgic for childhood again, for when street signs only mattered when finding sweet shops, not defining your territory.
She smiled warmly at him. “I remember you too.” Her smile faded a bit and she nodded, “thank you.” A slight chuckle came out and she sighed. “Yeah he is, think he’s doing it just to get us all to come home.” Brushing some hair behind her ears she shook her head, “no, only been in a couple of days. How are you, what have you been up too?” Reaching into her purse she pulled out her cigarettes and lit one, offering one to him.
Accepting one from her, he nodded his gratitude. Pulling out his pack of matches, he lit each of them up. "Nothing too much, I'm afraid. Brooklyn's still Brooklyn, ya know?" he shrugged, down playing the local word by far. He hoped she wouldn't get an ear otherwise. "How's elsewhere been treating you?"
His hands strayed to the side of her face, lips parting with a soft sigh as the title began to roll outside. His fingers fell until they ghosted her collarbone, her neck, resting against the thrumming warmth he found there.
Her heart picked up double-time now as Marco and...
"Well then, one of two things are gonna happen: They're gonna get lost or get beaten, how about that? No Deuce is gonna ruin anything so long as I'm around," he assured her, a calm smile on his lips. "You can count on that."
Halting at once, he cocked his head toward the alley, stepping on along. He knew it was none of his so soon— no, Fritzy didn’t just hand out his info on a daily bulletin. Nonetheless, he was intrigued by the hushed sound of her voice and came along, following her with an air of mild distrust. “You have business for me, sweetheart, or are you working a more personal angle here?”
Emily saw him stop and she backed up a bit more into the shadows. Nervously chewing her lip she waited to see what he would do. Wrapping her arms around her waist she watched him come closer, watching the distrust in his eyes. Shaking her head she looked him up and down. “I saw you today, at Fritzy’s and you saw me. I’m hoping that those sightings need to go no further than the two of us.” Taking out her cigarettes she lit one and offered him one. “Do we have a deal?’
"What’s the matter with me seeing you at Fritzy’s?" he furrowed his brows, glancing over her as he waved off the offer. "You’re not a Deuce are you— because let me tell you, I’m the last person you want to let that be known to."
The look on their faces told him what he didn’t know at first; that the voice that approached them had caught him off guard enough to started him. For a moment, he wasn’t at the market, and these men not even he knew. Instead, it was a place where children chattered and teachers loomed, and the sun never seemed to cease over their sweet Brooklyn. He never thought he’d hear that voice again after elementary school, and oh, how it had changed from a sweet child to a sufficient young woman. “Kathy?” he asked, doing his best to mask what surprise he hadn’t given away. “How’ve you been— what bring you back to these streets?”
It had been so long since she had seen Marco. They were children the last time her eyes landed on him, playing on the playground together. Behind the school they’d laugh and chase each other on the playground, or see who could swing higher on the swings. Then her parents had moved out of Brooklyn, and she didn’t even get a chance to say good-bye. Now here he was, Marco, and he looked the same, well bigger, but the same. She smiled when he recognized her and nodded. “You remembered me?” Giving a small shake of her head, “I’ve been good, really good. You?” Her face went serious for a moment, “my grandfather, he’s sick. It’s why I’m here.”
"Of course I remember you, I-- how could I forget?" he asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and shaking his head. "I'm sorry to hear about him, but I'm sure he's glad to see you again as well. Have you been in for a while now?" He felt so suddenly nostalgic for childhood again, for when street signs only mattered when finding sweet shops, not defining your territory.
It was luck— maybe even fate, he dare say— that he came across a group of his men before he made it out of neutral territory, his plans fresh in his mind. He spoke slowly, withholding the excitement from his eyes and words, conveying only a mission with a noble goal at the finish.
Two of these boys would fall under Fritzy’s wing, reporting back to him every last Deuce or Viper that betrayed their alliance for Fritz. With all these names, he’s shed himself his own loose ends, and use the Deuces’ to ties their noose. What could go wrong?
After grabbing what she needed from the store she stopped on the corner to have a cigarette, chatting softly with some of the girls from the neighborhood. She was a Deuce as far as anyone knew, and she needed to keep that cover. Reporting back to Fritzy was keeping her alive, and supplied. She hated what she had to do, but she needed what he gave her.
Her eyes rose as she saw a few Vipers enter a shop across the street. Marco was coming down the block and she disentangled herself from the girls and walked towards him. Meeting up with him near an alley, she whispered his name. “Marco,” she said softly, “come here.”
Halting at once, he cocked his head toward the alley, stepping on along. He knew it was none of his so soon-- no, Fritzy didn't just hand out his info on a daily bulletin. Nonetheless, he was intrigued by the hushed sound of her voice and came along, following her with an air of mild distrust. "You have business for me, sweetheart, or are you working a more personal angle here?"
It only took a moment to fume to that asshole for all he was worth, never raising his voice enough to alert his men. For another time, Fritzy would play it calm and swear to its end, and for another time, Marco was sure, he’d keep it up anyway. So before he left that office, he...
It was luck-- maybe even fate, he dare say-- that he came across a group of his men before he made it out of neutral territory, his plans fresh in his mind. He spoke slowly, withholding the excitement from his eyes and words, conveying only a mission with a noble goal at the finish.
Two of these boys would fall under Fritzy's wing, reporting back to him every last Deuce or Viper that betrayed their alliance for Fritz. With all these names, he's shed himself his own loose ends, and use the Deuces' to ties their noose. What could go wrong?
For the third time that week, he was meeting with Fritzy; first at the pier, then the shipping yard, and now he was standing outside that joke’s office waiting to be cleared for a meeting. He was sick of this man recruiting his men and turning them into inside jobs, and was...
It only took a moment to fume to that asshole for all he was worth, never raising his voice enough to alert his men. For another time, Fritzy would play it calm and swear to its end, and for another time, Marco was sure, he'd keep it up anyway. So before he left that office, he had a plan, one that would hopefully do more harm than good to this pompous instigator.
When he stepped from the office, collecting himself once more, he slammed the door just enough to get his point across before he was gone, making his way down the street In hopes of falling into action before the night was through.
She stood outside the diner lighting a cigarette and looking at the neighborhood. It had been years since she had been here and yet the place looked the same. Shaking her head slightly she started walking down the block, needing to pick up some food. When Kathy learned her grandfather was ill she...
The look on their faces told him what he didn't know at first; that the voice that approached them had caught him off guard enough to started him. For a moment, he wasn't at the market, and these men not even he knew. Instead, it was a place where children chattered and teachers loomed, and the sun never seemed to cease over their sweet Brooklyn. He never thought he'd hear that voice again after elementary school, and oh, how it had changed from a sweet child to a sufficient young woman. "Kathy?" he asked, doing his best to mask what surprise he hadn't given away. "How've you been-- what bring you back to these streets?"
Where Loyalties Lie
For the third time that week, he was meeting with Fritzy; first at the pier, then the shipping yard, and now he was standing outside that joke's office waiting to be cleared for a meeting. He was sick of this man recruiting his men and turning them into inside jobs, and was more than pleased to have his men reporting Fritzy's little talks back to the Vipers, as it should be. Why this man could find himself a nice Deuce to talk up, he didn't know, but he couldn't imagine Fritzy only wanting /his/ gang out of town. Surely there was a little even play at work, but the Deuces didn't seem any more riled than usual the last he saw of them; actually saw they had a few new members instead. /How the hell does that work?/
"Of course it is," he nodded shortly, subtly surprised to find her hands over him; but hey, this was routine by now after all his years in Brooklyn. Before he counted on it, her lips were to his, brilliant eyes closing away from his view as he pressed back, sighing softly into...
His hands strayed to the side of her face, lips parting with a soft sigh as the title began to roll outside. His fingers fell until they ghosted her collarbone, her neck, resting against the thrumming warmth he found there.
//Finishing replies when I come home. Hold tight for just a little bit longer.
"That’s why you’re out of the crossfire…" he nearly muttered, pursing his lips together as he studied the shot glasses intently, his mind slipping away from him. "I’ve destroyed enough— last night alone—. I needed redemption of sorts, one no church or God could ever grant me; something I could hold on to and still believe I had anything of a soul left, or if I ever had one to begin with. Knowing I do is what separates me from everything I loathe— the very things I never wanted to become. It’s this that keeps me from collapsing in, slaughtering either myself or others off-handedly." Marco paused to tear his eyes from the desk, focusing on hers with conviction. "I don’t want to see you dead— despite everything I’ve done to you."
Sitting on the desk she bit at her lip, turning her gaze from him to stare down at her legs. Her head turned to him when he spoke of last night. “Does that mean you’re sorry for what you did to me?” Sliding off the desk she went back around and sat in the chair, pulling her legs up to her chest. She understood needing redemption, and knowing the one she needed wouldn’t come from God. Raising her eyes she looks at him. “You have a soul Marco. Somewhere in there is a soul.” Again she nodded, understanding more of his words than she wanted to admit. Meeting his intense gaze, “I’d ask you why you did it, but we both know the answer. Still, not wanting me dead is something.” Looking away she sighs. “Leon hates me. Always has. It’s my fault Allie ended up any where near you. I was with him the first night he tried drugs. Was already using by the time he came along. It’s why he doesn’t believe anything I say.” Wiping a stray tear she swallows and looks back at him. “Saving me won’t get you redemption, I’m too far gone to be worth anything.”
"If I believed everything I was told, I'd have been killed by my own ignorance. It takes more than mere words to convince, more than opinions too. So forgive me if I admit that when you say I have a soul, I can't feel obliged to accept it-- and when you say you're too far gone to be of worth, I have every intention to prove you wrong," he spoke quietly, slowly. Here was the business man, separate from the killer and the child in his own way, only tied together by the man they possessed. "I've seen worthless, and not for a moment have you reminded me of it."
Did you know some people have started shipping you and Leon? What do you think about that? Also, I love you?
"Shipping" me and that Deuce? What the hell does that mean?
//It just occurred to me that I never put in any of my rules or info pages about starting a thread. Unlike a lot of roleplay blogs, I don’t post open starters or anything to that effect, mostly because I figure they’ll just sit open. If you followed me in hopes of a thread, please feel free to message me.
"I already am, darlin’," his smile spread, giving her chin the smallest bump upward. "The chance is yours to do as you please with."
Her lips curved into a possessed smile. It was a smile that bordered on dark and twisted and a little sick for a good girl to be wearing....
"Of course it is," he nodded shortly, subtly surprised to find her hands over him; but hey, this was routine by now after all his years in Brooklyn. Before he counted on it, her lips were to his, brilliant eyes closing away from his view as he pressed back, sighing softly into the gesture.