You Have the Right to Remain Silent

Bruno Vincelli | 40 Years Old | Police Officer in New Orleans Mobster

[vermcuth]

.

He asks if Etienne is afraid, and Etienne shakes his head in response. “No. I’m not afraid.” There’s a truth to the statement. He’s never considered himself a brave man, always going out of his way to avoid conflict and aggression. Even in his time at war, he was never on the front lines, but rather trying to patch up the men who had been, but he wasn’t afraid. Not when it came to things like this. 

The man voices his suspicions, and after the display inside, Etienne cannot blame him for them. He nods, and offers his name when it’s asked for. “My name is Etienne Toussaint. I have a surgery on Canal Street. I’m here tonight as a guest - The Vincelli’s fights are not mine.” 

He doesn’t know if the words are reassuring, but his next action may be. He removes his jacket and waistcoat, slinging them to hang over the edge of the balcony until he is stood there in only his thin dress shirt and trousers. There is nowhere upon him to hide any weapons, and he holds his hand in the air, the global sign of surrender. 

“I’ve no knife. No gun, no weapons. I promise you, I’m just a doctor who wants to make sure it’s safe to let you leave alone.”

[officer-vincelli]

"Bruno. Vincelli." He offered back, sighing as he hunched over the railing for some support. His brooding stare settled on Etienne as the other man stripped, a brow raised in a mix of surprise and perhaps a dash of appreciation.

"Fine, you can look. Just...I'll keep an eye out. Not exactly meant to still be here." Bruno admitted and took his own turn to strip down. He removed his blood-stained shirt slowly, wincing as he did so, his fingers shaking from the adrenaline. It revealed some already large bruising around his sides and his back too, likely some light internal bleeding. His knuckles were covered in abrasions, caked in a mix of his own blood and his brothers, but his face had the worse of it. His jaw was swollen, maybe fractured, and he had a black, swollen eye.

He set his shirt next to Etienne, hissing in pain as he did so, his whole body feeling like it was ready to blow over. Bruno's voice came out low and croaking as he tried to control the pain. "Back to you, doc."

.

The food doesn’t need tending to yet, and so Nalini busies herself, starting up the radio in the corner to play some music. She kept it off when she was home alone, filling the apartment with the sound of her own voice. She never sang as well when she was singing along to somebody else’s voice, always feeling worse by comparison, but with company, she liked the background of music. 

“Make yourself at home,” she bids him. She’d take his jacket, but with his arms currently preoccupied with groceries, it’s a pointless endeavour, so instead, she steers him into the kitchen, despite the fact he has already moved to enter himself. “Don’t be silly. You’ve done enough getting them for me in the first place. I don’t want you to lift a finger.” 

His belly rumbles, and her eyebrows raise, a small laugh escaping from her. “And you must stay for dinner. Or else I’ll be eating up here all alone, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

[officer-vincelli]

Bruno liked to think of himself as a stubborn man. After all, it had been raw self-will that had given him the ability to leave his family and dogged work ethic that had him working on the force. But with Nalini, he found himself struggling to ever say no. Maybe it was the guilt again binding him. But he knew deep down it was more just the woman's nature. She had this effortless nature that had you feeling it would be unkind to fight it.

So he simply set down the bags and shrugged off his coat. Beneath his wool officer's jacket, he simply wore a plain white shirt and suspenders, his service pistol hanging from his shoulder holster. A little redness grew on his cheeks as she noticed his hunger, and he bowed his head to her a little. "No, that seems fair. And I can't really turn down a meal that doesn't smell like old people."

Bruno paused a moment, feeling the invitation he had sitting in his pocket. He hesitated a moment, leaning against the kitchen counters as he finally brought his dark eyes to meet hers. His tone remained soft. "I, urm, I was wondering if you got an invitation to a party or not recently?"

[sidecvr]

.

There’s a look in his eyes that she recognises, but it feels oddly distorted now. Instead of being their own private joke at the world, it is now turned on her, like she is the butt of it. She’s never taken well to being laughed at, and especially not by him. Her hands ball into fists, her jaw clenching, but she makes no move toward violence. Not here, not tonight, not when she had so much resting on it going well for her. He had already taken so much with him when he made his departure. She would not let him ruin this, too. 

“He didn’t have to.” They had spoken about Bruno, of course, but Vera had never asked. Salvatore wore his regret for the loss of his eldest son plain for her to see, even if it remained hidden from those who perhaps did not know him as well as she did. 

“You’re a coward, Bruno.” She spits the insult at him, all fire. “Did you ever think about the fact that the rest of us didn’t want to be saved? No. You only thought about yourself.” He speaks of a price, and she shakes her head again. 

“It’s a price I paid when I was nineteen years old. A nineteen year old girl with more guts than you.” He’s making excuses for himself, but none of them held up to the reality of the situation. “If you couldn’t deal with it, there were still plenty of options. Instead, you choose to spit in our faces. A cop, Bruno?” her anger recedes a little, leaving incredulity in its place. Even after all these years, it still seems unthinkable that someone she shares blood with would become the thing that she hates the most. 

[officer-vincelli]

(tw: reference to abuse)

It stabbed Bruno in the chest. All of it. It resonated in him, with that deep part of himself that was pulled over the racks of guilt for seven years. He had more years as a Vincelli child than all of them, and he was bound as tight to those ropes as they were. He had adored his father the way an abused dog loved its master, and he had drunk the mafioso kool-aid.

He knew Vera thought he just one day decided to throw it all away, but it was a slow chipping away at his very spirit. Day after day, watching people suffer just so the Vincellis could line their pockets. He had to wake up and walk down the street, watch innocent people going about their lives, knowing any day, they could get a mobster knocking on their door and ruining their lives. Knowing that person could be him.

He would never lose his conviction that what he did was right. But that confidence never would salve over the burns of loss it caused. More skin peeled away at the image of his sister, his little sister, having to put a man down to feed their father's demented notions. He stepped closer to her before he spoke if only so he could grow more hushed and not have the whole room hear them. "And I will die with regret that you ever had to do that, Vera. Do you think it makes you brave? There is nothing brave about execution when you hold all the cards."

"True guts is losing all you have to do what you know is right." Bruno lifted his eyes to his sister and straightened. The time for contrition was over. Weakness would never get through to Vera. She was not that kind of person.

"Not a day will pass that I won't miss you. That I won't miss Luc and Enzo. That I won't wish I was there. But when I am put back to the soil from which I came. I'll do it knowing my life was my own, and I never hurt people to get to it." His tone was genuine, that rumbling gentleness that always inflected his voice. He had never been one to yell much or get too angry, even when they were children.

"I will risk everything to see you all, including coming here, knowing that if father wanted, I could never leave."

.

From within his jacket, Bruno produces an invitation, as though that will be his shield, as though it will protect him from her wrath. A small, silly piece of paper. Vera reaches forward, wrenching it from his grip and tearing it decisively in two, flinging the halves back at him with a venomous narrowing of her eyes. “So you got your hands on an invitation. There is a difference between that and being wanted.” 

There is no sign on his face that her words are having any impact on him, and in Vera’s eyes, that only serves as proof that he does not care. Perhaps he never had, the moments they shared in her childhood all a ruse so that on the day he committed the ultimate act of betrayal it would hurt all the more. Vera had made the mistake of trusting in him once, and it is not one she will make again. 

Bruno was a problem she knew she had to deal with, one day, but for as long as Salvatore lived, there was little she could do. His flight from the family had cut him deeply too, and that was another thing Vera would never forgive him for, for she was nothing if not her father’s creature. The old man still held out hope, but such a notion had long since left Vera, burned out by a need for vengeance. And so she waited, biding her time for the day she could finally take care of this particular problem. 

“Miss me, do you?” her words are sharp enough to cut in the savagery with which she speaks them. “How touching. You’re right, though. I don’t believe an inch of it.” She has had her fill of betrayal from Bruno. He will not placate her with poorly thought out words.

“A servant of the law,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Your duty should have been to your family, Bruno. To me.” She lets that hang in the air for a moment, before continuing. “You lost the right to act honourable when you broke your oaths and walked out of that door.”

[officer-vincelli]

Bruno let out an amused breath as the paper hit his chest. He let them fall to the ground, his eyes rising to meet hers again. Not in the challenge but that same gently amused look he'd give her when they were children. In those moments, they'd share private jokes about Rosa's bad haircuts or scare Luciano on Halloween by jumping out of the closet. But this was real life now, not child's play, and yet to Bruno, it all felt like memory lane. In a distorted, twisted sense. She'd always be his sister. Those memories were all real to him. Forever stamped into his heart.

The look turned to resignation at Vera's sharp response, and he would have perhaps brought their conversation to a swift end, either entering or not, if it wasn't for her follow-up. This time it was his turn to look betrayed. His eyes were a little wide. "That old man still didn't tell you why I left, did he?"

"Vera, if I could have...if there was any way...I would have saved us all from it. But I was-...it wasn't that easy. The price of all of this." He gestured wildly at the large home they were standing in.

"It's indelible and too steep. Once you pay that price, there's no going back. That doesn't mean I don't love you all. That I don't miss you. You're my blood. I just can't play the game any longer." Bruno knew it was all for deaf ears. But for the first time in 7 years, he had a chance to say his piece.

when: 27 september 1924 where: the vincelli mansion - kitchens who: open

“yes, darling, i saw it myself. they were like two bears swinging at each other.” unlike many socialites, zosia’s knack for befriending the hired help wherever she goes remains one of her greatest talents. she recognizes many tonight from her own parties or others she’s attended throughout her time in new orleans; they recognize her all the same which is the likeliest explanation as to why they haven’t shooed her from the kitchen so that they can work in peace. that and she, from experience in her youth with her own staff, doesn’t mind helping rather than standing in the midst of everything as useless as a chocolate teapot.

tasked with placing toothpicks, she smiles mischievously at floria’s comment about bruno. “i agree, he’s quite handsome. though not for the next while i’m afraid. he’ll be so swollen i’m sure it’ll be horrendous.” thankfully, she doesn’t have to worry about vince getting into such troubles. the doors to the kitchen swing open and she looks up from her task and her gossiping, sure to find quite the confused face staring back at the socialite making canapes in a one of a kind dress. “hungry?”

[officer-vincelli]

Bruno needed at least an hour or two before the Vincelli's slowed the chase or even believed he left, and now, having partly cleaned himself off in the bathrooms, he plotted his next hideout spot.

The kitchens were a good call. Busy with staff, who often weren't paid well enough to care who was in there, and big enough that he had a few decent tight spaces to hide in. Though he really hoped he wouldn't have to resort to the walk-in fridge.

He slipped in slowly and silently through, just in time to hear being compared to a bear. Then being called handsome. Then horrendous. In fairness, no one sported a swollen eye and broken nose well, but he liked to think he was far from disfigured.

Bruno knows Zosia offers the canape before seeing him properly, but it doesn't stop him from stepping forward and taking it in his rough, blood-dyed hands. He popped it straight in his mouth like there was nothing startling about his appearance. "Oh delicious, a horrendous bear like me could ask for nothing better."

The two of them weren't really friends. In fact, he was fairly certain they'd never even met without Vincent being there as well. Their personalities were like oil and water, and though Bruno was certain that she belonged together with his best friend...he couldn't bring himself to fully understand her personally. Her world, her life, they were so far removed from his own experiences. Even within the family, he'd been spared most of the luxuries of wealth and continued to live a simple life.

[vermcuth]

.

Etienne saw the fight. It was hard not to - they had certainly made enough of a scene to attract the attention of half the party. He had known this would happen - Luciano had been in no mood for festivities, and when they had eventually parted ways after their talk earlier, he could have seen it coming from a mile off. In a way, he blames himself. If he had just stayed by his side, perhaps he could have prevented it. The likelihood was that he would have ended up roped into the fight himself (which would have been disastrous, for Etienne was no fighter), but he still could have tried to do something more than what he did. 

It is that guilt that lures him out here now, following the other party involved in the brawl out onto the balcony. They had caught more than a few punches from Luciano, and he would be a poor doctor indeed if he let him stumble into the night without at least checking him over. He was liable to do himself more damage, and that, Etienne’s conscience just won’t allow. 

“Hi,” he greets back, with a small smile and a small nod. “I thought I’d check on you. I saw what happened in there,” he jerks his thumb towards the house, advancing another step forward and waiting for the other man to welcome him more fully before taking a place at his side. 

“I’m a doctor,” he explains. “Well, a surgeon, but I have medical training. Would you mind if I checked you over? I can’t just let you walk away if you’ve got a concussion, you see.”

[officer-vincelli]

Bruno tensed up at the face he saw. It seemed vaguely familiar, but with a jaw full of blood and a bruised right eye, it could be another Vincelli foot soldier for all he knew. Only once the 'hi' came along with a smile and some concern did he allow himself to relax, but only a fraction. Sometimes the vipers weren't in the mob itself. Still, he wasn't a brute, so he offered a grunt and allowed Etienne to get closer, his good eye squinting in thought.

"You're not afraid to be next?" He murmured, though it came out slow and laboured as the pain had yet to fully subside in his cheek. It caught in his throat, and he turned away to hack a bloody spit over the balcony railing.

"Grgh, he hit less hard as a kid." Bruno muttered to himself, staring back at Etienne again after the whole explanation.

"Listen, for all I know, you're here to stick a knife in me when I'm not paying attention. So before that happens, a name would be good. I can meet the maker with some knowledge."

[officer-vincelli]

.

bruno tackles him and he doesn’t care. they’re a snarl of limbs on the floor, each scrabbling for the upper hand and trading punches with little regard for protecting themselves from the next one being thrown. giving as good as they get and luciano, ever salvatore’s son, likes getting hit a bit more than he ought to. always has, using the pain of it to drive him into punching or elbowing back harder. it’s one of the things that makes others fearful of fighting him. he’s relentless.

he can tastes his own blood, either from biting his tongue or from his leaking nose, and luciano takes the opportunity to spit into bruno’s eyes and shove him off. winded as he is from a couple hard knocks to the ribs, the act of shoving bruno off comes far too easily. it’s about that moment he realizes why: their father, and a pissed off vera, has arrived with the cavalry in the form of a gaggle of foot soldiers.

luciano staggers upright, without pulling his glower from bruno, doesn’t hear remotely anything anyone says because his good ear is ringing, because he’s breathing heavy, because his blood is still rushing and if anyone else touches him they’re going to find themselves on the receiving end of his fists, too.

[officer-vincelli]

The whole fight is like a flash of violence. Both devolved into wild swings to the point that Bruno wasn't even sure where hurt anymore. He knew his brother was enjoying it, and in a weird way, it was cathartic to him too. He had been pent up with so much stress in the mansion, and now it had an outlet. But that look in his brother was different from his own. Bruno still had control of himself, whereas he wasn't sure his brother knew when to stop.

The spit sent him stumbling back when paired with the shove, and he would have gone right back in if not for the heavy hand on his shoulder yanking him back. He noticed at the same time as Luciano and roughly shrugged the hand off, stumbling back from the Vincelli gang for his own safety.

It was sobering to see his father staring at him. How long had it been? Yet that cold look still sent shivers down his spine. It felt good to see him again too, and that's what Bruno hated the most. He fucking missed all of this.

He lifted his hands in the air, gaze flicking to his brother with a jut of his chin. The silent message was clear. Till next time. It wasn't a threat, but they both knew there was much to unpack here. Bruno had no doubt he'd get another break-in at his apartment soon.

"Tregua." He offered, continuing to step back into the chest of some of the annoyed seeming onlookers.

"I'll take my leave now. No need for anything else."

As the words left his lips, he didn't give anyone time to reply, simply turning back and fast walking out of the room. The great thing about parties this large in a house this big, however, was even if they wanted to check if he'd left or even chase him, it was going to be hard. Especially since he knew it all like the back of his hand.

Bruno slipped into the groups within reception quickly, ignoring the stares at his bloody attire until he landed himself in one of the many bathrooms. Washing his face hurriedly in the basin, he glanced at his bloody reflection with only one word to say.

"FUCK."

One thing was for certain. However, he wasn't done. After all this, he knew he'd have to see Enzo before he left. It just felt...necessary. Especially as he may never enter the mansion ever again.

[honcyandlemon]

.

Bruno was the first person Nalini met when she arrived in New Orleans four years ago, and the only relative of Luciano’s she has ever become acquainted with. She can still recall their first meeting, she a panicked young woman showing up at the police station, talking in garbled English, French and Hindi about Luciano Vincelli, and being taken straight to him. He had been good to her then, and he’s still good to her now. 

He’s a friend, even if there are things she can’t tell him. Sometimes, it is hard to believe that two men like Luciano and Bruno could even be related, never mind brothers, but since coming to New Orleans, she’s learned the value of keeping her secrets. 

“Bruno,” a warm smile graces her face, and she steps to one side to let him in to her apartment. It’s a little messy, her belongings strewn haphazardly about, but it’s warm and cosy, the smell of fresh cooking filling the air. “I keep telling you that you shouldn’t have - not that I’m not grateful,” she corrects herself, quickly. “I just know you must be busy. I don’t want you thinking you’re obligated.” 

[officer-vincelli]

The warm smile caught Bruno off-guard for a moment, and he found himself mirroring it. She reminded him of Vincent that way, a sort of genuine, earnest happiness to her at times. Which was astonishing considering the fact his brother had treated her so poorly at times. There was, for a moment, a pang in his chest. Maybe envy, maybe just loneliness. To the fact that his apartment door simply opened to emptiness.

"Nal" He returned, his deep voice rumbling a little, a crisp edge of tiredness to it. He sniffed the air with a chuckle and stepped in. Certainly, smelt better than his microwave meal that awaited. Dried chicken and lukewarm potatoes for the third time this week. That was likely the reason his belly let out a small rumble against his will.

"It's...well. I was in the neighbourhood, and I know sometimes it's hard to get stuff up the stairs. It's alright, really. My shift is over anyway. Shall I pack it away for you?" He'd offer, already making his way towards the kitchen and setting the bags down.

[spadcsoface]

To say he went on a search for Bruno after hearing about his brawl with Luciano would be a complete and total lie. The house, despite feeling suffocating for most of his life, was full of passageways and stairwells full of secrets. Memories tended to fall somewhere by the wayside, especially when they involved Bruno. Still, it was hard to return to the family home and not feel Bruno’s presence, no matter how much of him was erased from it.

But he was in Vincelli territory. Familiar, but not welcomed. This was the terrace Enzo could see from his childhood bedroom. And the walls that heard everything lined his hallways.

It was with that at the front of his mind, as it had to be, that he approached Bruno. But with each step he was reminded of the one who remembered to send him a birthday card; the one who didn’t call him a nuisance or annoying; the one who wanted to spend time with him and didn’t treat him as an afterthought.

“Hi” was all that could come out. He lets his eyes linger on his brother–keeled over, knuckles bloodied with a drink in his hand. He’s almost unrecognizable from the man Enzo grew up with. Maybe that’s for the best.

“I think you should leave.”

[officer-vincelli]

His face hurt, covered in bruising skin and his collar was soaked in blood, so overall, the night had been adventurous in all the wrong ways. It had to be said that he'd expected it from Luciano the least, but considering his brother's temperament, Bruno wasn't surprised. He had glass pressed to his cheek as he turned to Lorenzo, and his eyes widened at the sight.

It was crazy how quickly time passes. In his mind's eye, he could still see that small curly-haired kid, always quiet, softly pining for attention. The spare to the heir barely worth attention. But to Bruno, it was his precious little brother, and he'd done his best to shelter Lorenzo from the worst and give him some semblance of normal social interactions.

Then their father dictated boarding school, and that was that. Once Lorenzowas back, Bruno was already on his way out, and it sparked a wave of guilt. Years of letters and birthday cards, all with no response, but he never cared. He wouldn't ever stop thinking of Lorenzo. Especially when few really do. He wore a broad smile even though it painfully pulled on every part of his face that Luciano had pummelled.

Then just like that, the smile was gone. Bruno closed his eyes for a moment and let out a deep sigh. "Nice to see you too, Enzo."

"You've grown." He'd murmur softly, reaching out if allowed to clap his brother on the shoulder. There was a pain behind his dark eyes, and his age showed, for a brief moment, a sense of tiredness there.

"A real man right now. Getting to see that makes this visit worth it." He'd pause and then gently add.

"If you really don't want to see me or chat, then yeah...I can leave Enzo. For you. Not for Vera. Not for Luci. Not for Rosa or dad. For you, I'll go."

[officer-vincelli]

.

the blood on luciano’s face thus far all belongs to bruno - either from the initial gush upon cracking his nose open or from the spittle sprayed with his insult - though he doubts it’ll stay that way for much longer. not with bruno insulting rosa, even if son of a bitch is about as generic of an insult as one can toss around. it’s enough of distraction for bruno’s knee to connect with luciano’s gut, winding him and forcing breathing room between the two, as it is enough to maintain his anger.

“and your mother’s a whore,” he snarls back at bruno before throwing a punch and moving to close whatever distance remains. he’s never been one to wait, to give his opponent time to make the first move. he prefers to be smothering, trapping them where they are until they give up.

[officer-vincelli]

Up until this point, Bruno was fighting back in defence, trying to find a quick exit before they both got seriously hurt. It just took one blow to the wrong side of the face to collapse into a heap forever. The insult had been generalised, though if Bruno had considered it for a moment longer, bitch was a pretty good term for Rosa Vincelli.

Then Luciano had to make it truly personal. One thing to insult the living, another the dead and Bruno had already had most of his life tormented by the fact his mother had been a mistress without needing her memory degraded. His eyes burned with rare fury, the alcohol in his own system not helping matters. When the punch came again, it made half contact, catching the side of his head as Bruno had unsuccessfully tried to block it.

His anger helped him absorb the pain, however, and instead, he got low and tackled his brother to the ground, trying to use his heavy frame to help. Whether he was successful or not, the result was the same, Bruno came in close and threw hard body shots.

"Better a whore than a liar from the witch's womb. Cheating bastard."

[oldfashnd]

a wave of relief washes over vincent when a smile appears on bruno’s face, which to him is enough of a sign to mean that his best friend is not having a completely rotten time right now. “obviously,” vince says matter-of-factly, his smile growing wider. the second he heard about the party happening, he went about securing an invitation and asking zosia for her opinion on what he should wear, which is the usual turn of events when it comes to an evening out.

“oh, it can’t be that bad, come on,” he says with a shrug, although he knows that it is that bad. the worst part is that even though bruno’s joking, vincent truly wouldn’t put it past vera. he wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that vera has some minion of hers following bruno around to make sure he doesn’t stir the pot. “and if it is that bad, i’ll protect you. i can put up a good fight if i want to,” he chuckles. empty words, all of them—vincent’s never done any protecting in his life and wouldn’t know how to handle that if he had to. the fact that almost everyone towers over him makes his comment the more comical, he couldn’t appear intimidating to save his life.

he leans into the touch with a relaxed smile stretched across his face, warranted both by the company and the amount of liquor he’s already consumed tonight. “oh, yeah, she’s around. last time i’ve seen her, she decided to play knight in shining armor to the doorman from the speakeasy. poor bastard, some woman was all over him and he looked as if he was gonna puke, he looked that uncomfortable,” vincent recalls the scene with a laugh. he couldn’t be bothered to involve himself but zosia considered it an opportunity to have some fun and so he left and let her have it. “i’ve been running into friends left and right. and then a lot of people who seem to know me but i don’t really remember.” even re-introductions didn’t help, vincent’s rather prone to forgetting names and faces quite quickly. most people have got used to it.

“promise you’re not leaving anytime soon. we ought to have another drink together, this isn’t going to cut it,” he says as he gestures between their current refreshments. “and the band, have you seen them? they’re phenomenal.”

[officer-vincelli]

"You know Vinny, you're the shortest, most awkward potential fighter I've seen..." There was a glint of humour in Bruno's eyes that matched his broad smile. This was the version of himself that was getting less and less common. Brimming with pure, earnest emotion without worry that it may weaken his position or prove a distraction. He allowed himself one pass, and that was the moments he had with Vincent.

"Buuuut...I wouldn't trust anyone else on my back." He offered a squeeze of his friend's shoulder as he said the words with deep earnestness, the sentiment rumbling in his deep voice. Then he let go, tilting his head in quiet listening at the whereabouts of Vincent's other half. At least, that's how he saw the two of them. He never spoke much about love or romance with anyone, really, but he always figured the pair of them had a thing going.

Neither he nor Vincent spoke about that kind of stuff since they were teenagers, and Bruno kept it that way. But he was just waiting for the proposal around the corner. They always seemed together, and she made Vincent happy, which was more than enough for him. "Doorman? There really are all sorts around here. But glad she's...enjoying herself, I suppose."

Normally this is when an awkward lull would happen, as Bruno often happened when talking to others. The reality was, most of the time, his stiff, working manner caused very little natural conversation. Yet as always, his dear Vinny filled it before it could ever grow. His eyes met Vincent's, and he felt any resolve melt away, damn the man for having a face like a puppy.

"I...alright, alright. I can stick around for some more drinks with you. But if you try to get me to dance, I will kill you. I have two left feet and a monkey in my brain for a rhythm keeper." He gestured to the doors, figuring inside was better than the outside air, which was growing a little chilly.

[albamendez]

Alba's eyes widened even further when she saw her colleague walk into the room. She knew he was a Vincelli but she somehow didn't think she would run into him at the party. She was used to the cloak of anonymity that fell around her when she was at work, unfortunately, Bruno was one of the people who did actually know her and saw right through it.

"Oh officer," She cleared her throat as she looked at her feet and back up, nervously.

"I, um, I was invited..." She paused as she continued, "To the party, it was a bit loud so I came here and got distracted by the books."

Alba frowned at his statement, "Not safe?" She looked at him, as she pondered what he thought of himself in this situation but didn't feel comfortable enough to confront him with that. Instead, she said:

"So we should both leave?" She questions instead.

"I'm afraid I got a bit lost and I'm not sure if I can find my way out, especially not with all these people."

[officer-vincelli]

Something about Alba was off. Not in this particular moment maybe, but there was a sense in Bruno's stomach that was...off. She was quiet as a mouse more often than not and got on with the job, but every now, he felt he could catch an air of something in how she acted. An aura of secrecy. Then again, he knew he was fairly paranoid and just chalked it up to that. It just sat there in the back of his mind, resurfacing every now and then.

"Invited? You?" He put his hands on his hips, dark eyes studying her with an intense squint before giving a sigh and shrugging.

"Well I was invited, so I guess anything is impossible." Bruno finally conceded with a sigh, and turned back towards the books. His gaze scanned it with familiarity and he quickly seized one of the heavier tombs, a green book.

He smiled as he gazed down at it, fingers tracing the book cover. There was a gentleness behind his eyes that he normally never showed at work, but alcohol and drama were a strong mix to bring down walls. "Il nome della rosa. The Name of the Rose. My favourite book; surprised it's still here."

"We don't need to leave." He finally offered an answer to her question, and he paired it with a shrug.

"You're a free woman. If you want to leave, I'll help you. If you want to stay...well, we're not on duty. I just think it may be a tad unwise."

[officer-vincelli]

younger brother he may be, but the difference between luciano and bruno is only a scant four years and not much else. beyond that, he’s never been one to be intimidated by anyone - not even his own father who gave both his temper and vice for violence to his legitimate firstborn son. he’d stood toe-to-toe with salvatore, old bull and new bull, and they’d both come away with shameful bruises and neither wholly satisfied. he’d been in the trenches in france and if that hadn’t quelled luciano into being a meeker, more thoughtful soul who shied from the prospect of violence then bruno certainly wouldn’t be the one to convert him.

there’s a million things luciano could say. he could rip into his brother for being so pretentious, so fucking holier than thou for simply turning his back on his family. call him selfish for abandoning his family, for abandoning luciano when he’d come back from the war and found his family in shambles. tell him he hadn’t so much as sniffed a whiff of nalini’s perfume in the last year because he’d murdered someone to protect her. tell him he’d murdered someone to protect maeve from the hurt of his poor choices, as if he hadn’t realized how he could hurt her, and ask when had bruno ever done anything like that? when had bruno cared so much about someone he’d dirty his hands for them?

never.

luciano, unfortunately, isn’t a man for well-articulated verbal arguments when physicality gets the point across faster. even less so when he’s been drinking and he’s had more than enough to get his blood singing. he takes advantage of bruno putting himself so close to keep their conversation between them and headbutts him, shoves him back onto the pool table and scrambles up after him to fist one hand in his brother’s shirt and throw punches with the other.

[officer-vincelli]

Bruno saw it coming. They were blood, after all, and one only had to look at the stare in Luciano's eyes to know what was coming. The question was only when. Even though he was ready, the viciousness of it was hard to fight. Luciano's forehead cracked right against Bruno's nose, and the blood was immediate, running down to his chin. It wet his tongue and his own fire was lit.

One wasn't a cop in New Orleans without getting in a fight or five. He slammed with a grunt into the pool table, his glass of whiskey splashing on the felt top, but his arm was up in time for Luciano's fist to hit his forearm rather than face.

"Figlio di puttana!" He spat at his younger brother, come blood flicking along with the words. He never felt that connected to his Italian roots on his father's side, but every now and then they provided the perfect sentiment. His knee followed his insult, aiming right for Luciano's stomach to wind him and also create space.

There was a part of Bruno which knew he went too far, but the other side of him no longer cared.

[officer-vincelli]

.

“yeah, exactly, what are you doing bruno because if i didn’t know better, i’d say you’re avoiding me,” vincent says as he leans his back against the railing, swirling a glass of—something around, he doesn’t particularly care about what he’s having anymore. vince keeps his tone light and teasing, hoping that bruno isn’t going to try and start a fight because he’s too on edge from being around his family. vince would, were he in the other’s shoes. 

“i wasn’t sure if you’d be here. are you even allowed here?” he asks; he’s been wondering about it from the very beginning, ever since he’d spoken to vera. he would’ve asked her but she looked as if she was ready to strangle him then and there when he simply asked if bruno’s joining them tonight. he’s got his answer now, vincent supposes, but judging by how out of place bruno seems to him, his presence at the party is not without its issues. “nevermind. don’t have to answer that. but you ought to lighten up. it’s a party. you have fun at these things, in case you forgot,” he grins and bumps his shoulder playfully into bruno’s.

[officer-vincelli]

Bruno's shoulders relaxed immediately at Vincent's assuaging tones. His best friend had that effect on people. Compared to Bruno, he was more chirpy, gentle and altogether joyous. With a little dose of stupid. It was a miracle that, as little kids, they even got on so much, but he wouldn't have traded it for anything. With Vincent, he could just be...Bruno. Not an older brother, a Vincelli, not even a police officer (though times did call for him to pull out his badge to save his friend from a night in the cells).

A little oasis in a rather arid desert of stress and loneliness that was most of Bruno's days. A smile cracked from between dry lips, which he licked absently as he gazed back out to the gardens. "Should have figured you'd never skip a party, Vinny."

He sighed in relief when he was relieved of answering the question, shaking his head slowly and drinking a little more. His tone was faintly slurred, the start of perhaps one drink too many for the evening, but he was fairly lucid for now. "It might be a party for you, but for me, it's like one of the horror readings on the radio. I'm waiting for Vera to pop out of a closet and shoot me."

Without much thought, Bruno brought an arm around his friend's shoulder, giving him a half hug and smile. "Did you come with Zosia? You two are like bees in a hive, so I figured she wouldn't be far."

[virginiewoolf]

Fortesa Latifi, from The Truth About Grief.

[officer-vincelli]

so long as salvatore sits ahead of the family, vera’s shackled to their father’s way of doing things. beyond that, it wouldn’t put confidence in her newfound new yorker allies if two of her brothers, even if one is a turncoat like bruno, turned up dead at a party thrown half for her but mostly to impress said allies. but that’s the kind of information bruno’s excluded himself from in becoming an officer and, while he might be luciano’s favorite sibling, it’s the kind of information luciano knows better than to part with.

so he shrugs, smirks. “my bravery got me a distinguished service medal in france. i’m happy to take my chances with vera.”

his smirk, however, fades as soon as bruno alludes to nalini. a hard, glittery stare of his own replaces it - jaw muscles tensing before he forces them apart to down the last of his drink - and never leaves bruno. tonight is neither the time nor the place for bruno to act all high and mighty, judging luciano like he’s never done a goddamned thing wrong in his life. especially with all the people around - people who will gossip because they have nothing better to do. “run that by me again, bruno.”

[officer-vincelli]

"Touché brother, touché." Bruno offered with a small grin, though a brief flicker of guilt was on his face. When Luciano signed up for the war, he had been tempted to join him and make sure he made it back. He owed his younger brother that much. But the needs of the Vincelli came first, and their father couldn't have both the eldests galavanting off to Europe. So like the dutiful pup he had once been, he stayed behind and watched Luciano bravely march on.

The first stone that was thrown in a long journey of leaving. But all smiles faded when they both stared each other down. Bruno straightened up, meeting his brother's eyes unflinchingly. Maybe Luciano cared about the people around them, but he had long since thrown caution to the wind. He set his glass on the side of the pool table and offered a small mercy but talked in a hushed but firm tone. "What, Luc? You worried about what people think?"

"Out but never gone, eh? You still care about this stupid game, and people are being caught in your mess. Innocent people. Because you're a selfish bastard. What will it take for you to own your life? Dad doesn't give a fig about you anymore." There was a hint of a slur, just slight, on the edge of Bruno's tone. He was normally quiet and all smiles, but whiskey can do something to a man.

[officer-vincelli]

Open Date: Late Evening, Saturday September 27th, 1924 Location: The Terrace at the Vincelli mansion

It was time to leave for real this time. So Bruno told himself. Yet there he still was, watching the twilight moon rise up in the sky, reminding him of the hours he'd spent reconnoitring the mansion. He had to wonder to himself what the purpose was, Vera's voice echoing in his mind. Sure, he could delude himself that there was some useful police evidence in seeing who exactly decided to visit the mansion, but he'd done about zero actual interviewing or real searching for dastardly deeds.

In reality, he already knew where many of the bodies were buried. After all, he'd been the proverbial grave digger less than a decade ago. But the Vincelli's didn't leave details behind, and any court case would just be a wild goose case.

No, he wasn't here as Officer Bruno Vincelli, but as a wounded, pining, wayward son. He'd left of his own volition, and yet standing on the Terrace and looking out towards the gardens, he felt a longing nostalgia. There was a comfort in the house, if only because it had been filled with family and familiar faces. Now he had just returned to an empty apartment and fell asleep listening to the radio in his chair.

So lost in his sobering thoughts, Bruno didn't notice someone joined him on the balcony. Just leaning over the rail and cradling another drink too many. He whispered out to himself, voice trembling with a soft vulnerability as he closed his eyes. "What are you doing, Bruno?"

Then his ears came to life, and he snapped his head to see who had entered.

"I...urm. Hi." Well that didn't sound lame at all.