Revati Sharma

Revati Sharma 29 Rutherford Family Assassin

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Vishnu: Ready?

Revati: I suppose.

[rawanki]

[deepikapadukonesource]

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laurent-stpierre :

“It’s a start.” Despite the fact that it was quite clear, given her expression, she wasn’t struggling to remember him at all, he continued to humor her, “I suppose that means I’ll have to work harder at leaving a better impression tonight…”

Hopefully not by getting his head kicked in by her man.

Laurent wasn’t entirely convinced by her admission to only being there for the good looking men, either…but that was more than likely the point. In the brief moment he allowed himself to look away–fully fixated, thanks to their new proximity–he noted that she was, rather unsurprisingly, referring to Julien. That little fucker. Laurent loved him like a brother, but couldn’t forgive him for his literal fucking existence being a cockblock for every other Frenchman who shared the room.

“Julien. Nice guy, actually,” he said, nodding his head in approval. “Could put in a good word for you, if you’d like? I mean, he’s married, but the last time I checked, pretty lax when it comes to the faithful clause…”

The Brit’s next words had him smirking to himself. As his fingertips trailed up the side of his tumbler, he shook his head. “Put your money on Wesley. Watch me fight, make up your own mind, and save the bets for the next time I’m here.” 

Because he would be back.

“Sounds familiar.” Revati noted, her eyes swung to the Rutherford section and settled on a popular face. With clear distaste, she smiled as best as possible to add, “I think I’ll be content just by looking. Everything else about that sounded disappointing.” Exactly how nice of a person must one be to get a pass on being a complete ass? Between looking at a particular Rutherford and Julien, Revati’s gaze skimmed over a couple. Her smile likely faltered, she’d felt her chest trip between heartbeats.

Turning away from the stage, Revati gave Laurent her full attention; grasping for normality as rationally as possible. She felt like the words that would come out of her next had to be dragged by the arms out of her mouth, then pumped up with joy to stand.

“Next time...” Oh. The French really were snaking their way into the good, and the bad, held dear by the Rutherfords. But this one, this man, he would suffer for it. He was cruising toward a terrible finish line. “Are you sure?” 

She grimaced for his sake. “There isn’t anything else,” she waved a hand over his body, “that you’d be interested in competing in?" Like racing. Perhaps he’d like the really fun game in which one goes back home; where one is not on hit lists.

Her eyes narrowed, “What do you do for a living?”

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damon-rutherford :

His gaze followed hers, over where Alessa was standing. It was a strange feeling. Damon felt like all those memories he shared with the actress were of somebody else’s and he was just a viewer.

“I did learn my lesson, though,” he clicked the tongue, “I don’t give any women a false illusion of future or commitment. They know what they are signing up for.”

Sometimes he tried to get to the bottom of his own personality, try to find an explanation why he had to lust over different women every night.

It was a little disappointing to realise that he slept around because he simply… could.

She nodded in understanding, slightly impressed by the bottom line he’d laid out for himself. He wasn’t going to bother with the dramatics anymore, nor should he have to. At this point, where was the trust? It seemed a solemn type of reality, one that held a lack of feelings, but at this moment in Revati’s life, she almost admired his detachment.

“You don’t seem so bad.” She hummed and shrugged, “Drama aside, that is.”

Drama inclusive, Damon was a playboy git, and it didn’t do him any favors. Thankfully relationships didn’t make up the whole of a person, and his business sense outweighed the negative at a certain slant of light.

“Thanks for humoring me,” Revati added, letting him leave the topic if he wanted.

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damon-rutherford :

“Media is a broad term. I’m not hated by GQ or Forbes, I’m hated by tabloids. Frankly, it did annoy me a little bit at first, but then I got used to it. At some point, it blew out of the proportion, though. They would write all sorts of bullshit, as if a “cheating asshole” headline plastered all over my photo wasn’t enough.”

Damon arched his eyebrows and stopped for a quick sip of his drink.

“Strangely enough, I become somehow even more desirable. Women think they can change the “bad guy” Damon and in attempts to do so, they try to seduce me mostly, not the other way around. So, I stopped complaining at some point,” Damon grinned. “Alessa’s little teenage fangirl army can slut-shame me all they want.”

Across the way, Revati looked over at Alessa, surrounded by her Italian friends, and wondered if the woman liked the aggressive noise that went Damon’s way. Between the two, there was a clear villain, and he was standing next to her. But, considering her moments with the Rutherford, the headlines felt more and more like red herrings.

Then again, when he talked about women, and any lack of shame, the picture didn’t look any better. This was Amir’s best friend.

Through a scoff, she gave a soft laugh, “You’re a strong independent wo-man, don’t mind the sheep.”

“Maybe they’ll move on.” She said, turning back to the crowd. “Probably not though,” she smiled with a shrug; if he didn’t care anymore, there was little to circulate on.

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damon-rutherford :

Her confession made him chuckle.

“Well, at least you’re not in a denial phase. You’re not completely hopeless.” Damon joked.

“As well?” Damon tilted his head in a surprise, “are you implying you were? No, I’m trying to avoid a fair amount of former flings.” He scratched his head.

“Not at all. Feel free to ask me anything.”

“This is such a good look,” she laughed, thankful that her betting was mere pennies compared to the general body of event goers here. She wasn’t packing like the rest.

She swatted away the idea, with a gentle smile, “Absolutely not.” Yes. Yes she was, but not seriously by any means. “Ah, I see.” His comment nearly led into her question.

Turning toward the Rutherford, she gave him a look of earnest interest. She was hopeful he wouldn’t take her question the wrong way. “What’s it like being the most hated man by Porto media?”

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damon-rutherford :

Damon hardly ever attended Lara’s fight nights. Tonight though, as unpleasant as it was, he had to make an exception. His plan for the evening was to get as drunk as possible and avoid encounters with the Launceston originated animals who brought out the level of disgust in him that he didn’t think he possessed. 

Chatting with one of the guests, he found himself standing next to the box accepting the bets. A familiar voice attracted his attention.

“I  didn’t take you for a gambler, Revati,” he offered a wide smile.

Revati shared a bright smile with her employer.

It evaporated as she followed the thought; was she a gambler? Considering her proclivity for putting money in the fights and the street races, maybe she really did have an issue was illegal betting. Her smile baited to horrified embarrassment, “Bloody hell,” she whispered, “I think I might be.”

In her mortification, Revati looked to the crowd behind them and spotted Amir and Lara. They looked happy, and secluded. “Have you been ditched as well?” she said, looking up at Damon.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

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alessandrafognini :

“ Thank you. “ Alessandra took the chair next to Revati and a chill ran down her spine. That feeling you get when you know that someone is staring at you and judging you from afar. Growing up in an Italian household she became quite familiar with that feeling.

“ For what I´ve been seeing Wesley really has a strong fanbase. People go actually crazy when he walks by, it´s impressive.” The Italian said smiling. 

“ Good entertaining brutal or just brutal in a neanderthal away? The differences are not that big to be honest. What makes you think that tonight will be different?” Alessa had to ask. Lara could have a card hidden in her sleeve to play against her enemies. The woman was devious. "  Indeed. We should have. Signs with big hearts written I love you, Marry me, You are in my heart or something like that.“

” Maybe. My friends are fighting and their egos need more fuel. Men.“

“It’s a bit much,” Revati said, thinking about the fans, but smiled forgivingly, “At least people support them. Like you, actually. I’m sure it’s all draining, but you value the support?”

“Good point.” Revati took a deep breath, while shrugging a shoulder. When Dev fought, the sound of pounding flesh liked to overwhelm her senses. Like it was all she could hear; punch after punch, the brutality resounding up top. “The difference though,” she said while looking at the Italian’s friends, was exactly them, “might be the new crowds.”

“You’re making me regret not having a sign!” she half laughed.

Her friends. Revati’s mind wandered to a nightmare. “Oh? Which of your friends?” 

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gregoryhennessy :

“Hush for a minute. She just offered to not only buy you a drink but give me 100 bucks for taking off my shirt. If you really thought I wasn’t going to do it. Then you’re crazier than Jenifer Bennett.”

“Don’t you find it a bit in poor taste to bring up Jenifer Bennett in a room full of people once associated with the murdered girl? If anything, say it louder for the people in the back. They might not have heard you.”

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maya-alliot :

“If I was you?” Maya said as she stepped beside Revati playing the clutch she held in one hand directly in the center and taking a hold of it with both her hands. She allowed her finger nails to drum softly against the soft fabric as she thought silently to herself. After a long pause, she nodded her head towards the crowd standing around a fighter. “Thierry Vendroux and before you say it I’m not just saying that because he’s French.”

Maya nodded towards the man once more offering him a soft smile as he caught her eye. She had known Thierry since before he joined them in Porto. She’d seen his talent first hand back in Paris and believed he was a real contender. She snapped her finger as she pointed towards him. “He’s smooth, graceful and a powerhouse. I’d bet my bar on him.”

If she’d been inclined to snarky comments, Revati would have pointed out the gentle look between the French loyalists. She didn’t disbelieve the idea of Thierry Vendroux being a powerhouse, but the support felt less genuine with the idea of a could-be girlfriend talking up her boy. Instead, the thought that censured the French most was the Rutherford boxing lineup. If Maya considered ‘King of the Ring’ as a strawman, she was out of her bloody mind; anyone for that matter. Regardless of the new French opposition, surely they could acknowledge the talent Lara had pooled. Wesley never disappointed, which made Revati half hope the French loyalist did bet her bar.

But, as Revati looked Thierry’s way, within the sea of French bodies, she sucked in a tempering breath. These gangsters worried her. All of them - the French, the Italians, the Kings; she saw the capability and the aptitude. They’d been so lucky, she thought, that the French and the Italians had separated since The Versailles Incident.

“He sounds like a solid choice, but I think the odds are against him.” Revati nodded toward Wesley’s and Dev’s respective sides, far the fuck away from each other. “Actually, they really are against him if he’s fighting Wesley. Something like ten to one.”

Revati smiled, “Still want to bet your bar? Which one is it, by the way? Maybe I’ve been.”

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veronika-auditore :

“My cousin’s never been one to back down from a fight. In fact, none of the men that I know really do, family or otherwise.”

Ronnie’s head tilted slightly to the side, silently wondering if the woman standing before her realized what Ronnie knew. Truthfully, the woman standing in front of her didn’t give off the vibe of a contract killer. She was beautiful, that was obvious, and she carried herself well, in Ronnie’s opinion, better than some of the so-called socialites that were stumbling around in their high heels and mini dresses. But her attitude was what threw Ronnie for a bit of a loop. She seemed way too nice, the genuine kind of nice that was almost impossible to take.

Straightening back up, Ronnie quickly rolled her shoulders back. Nice or not, the woman had still made an attempt on the life of one of Ronnie’s men.

“I should probably be getting back, wouldn’t want anyone to slip something in my drink or something,” Ronnie offered the woman a toothy grin as she slowly strolled passed her. “Have a nice evening, Ms. Sharma.”

“Fuck.”

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amirdawar :

It hadn’t been an accident that he’d found his way to her side.

Tonight was Lara’s night, and he was more than happy to devote the majority of his time outside of polite mingling to her, but before the event got into full swing, there was somebody else he needed to see. 

“Traitor.” Amir did a good job of sounding serious where he was not. “I know you meant to say Dev. I’ll let it slide. This time.”

They hadn’t spoken since he’d returned from Riyadh. In fact, aside from the birthday dinner his mother had forced her to attend, their interactions since London had been sparse enough to concern him. Amir couldn’t help but wonder whether this had to do with her parents. It was not a pleasant thought.

He regretted that tonight would not be a chance for him to amend things.

“You look beautiful,” he said. It was true. Few men who saw her, he’d noticed, could look away afterward. “And also like you’re missing a drink. Have one with me before I head back to the birthday girl?”

Intentionally avoiding her best friend had seemed moronic in the days without him. Meaningless, really, as she slipped away from his wit, his friendship, and his kindness. Missing her favorite person had Revati second guessing her choices, but as the man of her hour rolled up with his jests and his decency, she remembered why distance had been best.

With a heavy heart, but kind eyes, she turned to him with a smile. “Don’t talk rubbish, join the winning team.” She opened her arms, gesturing to the crowd, like the entire body of people around them were betting on Wesley. “Before the end of the night you’re going to hear me whisper, ‘Mission failed. You’ll get em’ next time.’” Though her joke lightened her resolve, Revati feared Dev, and what he could do in the ring. Maybe Amir noticed her discomfort from the previous times the fighter had been brought up, but she also acknowledged that he was a good judge of character; maybe Dev wasn’t so bad. Mostly. 

She grimaced at her own apathy.

“Happen to know who he’s up against tonight?” She asked like it was obvious he’d have early knowledge.

Filling their conversational space with empty questions felt like a comfortable alternative to lingering on the unspoken discussion about the failed family dinner at her parents’ home. Having left Amir alone with her father had been a mistake. She wondered if she had, in putting him in that type of situation, put the last nail in her coffin. She’d done this to herself.

Revati looked away, like she usually did, when Amir provided her a compliment. A ray of sunshine painted its way across her face, but disappeared with her cloudy mind. She didn’t want him to see, ever. She laughed instead, “Yeah, yeah. Thank you, thank you.” She waved a hand like she was swatting away his words. “Red looks good on you though, you look handsome!”

Pressing the ugly selfishness into her gut, she turned to the best man in the room, and silently made an agreement with herself that she could enjoy his company, and that she should. “Absolutely. ‘Roll out.’ By the way, what did you put on Dev?”

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veronika-auditore :

“Vespucci and Hennessy.” Ronnie shouted over the crowd, handing the bookie a couple twenty dollar bills. She shuddered to think of what her cousin would do if she didn’t at least bet some money on his fight. And Greg didn’t really need much explanation. Never let it be said that Veronika wasn’t loyal to her family and friends. Hearing the person next to her place their own bet, naming Wesley as her choice, Ronnie lifted her head. She made eye contact with the woman.

“Good luck,” Ronnie said with a nod of her head.

“You as well.”

Veronika Auditore’s loyalty to her family knew no bounds. Her presence, her look, her bets for the night all led Revati to believe her attendance of the night was an intended ‘fuck you’ to Lara, or the Rutherford Clan as a whole. The woman oozed a peaceful type of anger; the type that curled into fog, pressing against a careful bubble of respect, wisping about in gentle chaos. She wondered if the now Italian Head had created the aura about her on purpose, tempting the bold, and the bad, to pop her constructed tameness. She wasn’t interested in bothering a greaving child, or being a bother as whole, for that matter. Nor did she want to linger long; if Veronika was here, Giorgio Pecatti couldn’t have been far. Her heartbeat quickened.

Of the recent failures to haunt her, that one would kill her.

With a weak smile, Revati offered a thought, “If your man, Vespucci, fights Wesley, I really might need it.”

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alessandrafognini :

“ Wesley? I have heard that name before. He seems to be a pretty famous fighter.” Alessandra commented. 

Her friends had told her the basis about the fighters, mostly the ones they have been pitted against. Or the ones they wanted to smash the most. Men.

“ There is also a guy…what´s his name?  Dev?  I´ve been told he is pretty hardcore…I mean even more so than the regular fighter that´s what I mean.And popular among the ladies, from the groupies I keep seeing around him.”

Revati spun in her chair and beamed at the actress in front of her; Alessandra Fognini continued to be, despite the press and the pressure, a seemingly nice person. After having met her at Icon, the Brit wondered how someone with such a pleasant disposition had been subjected to what she had.

Offering the chair next to her, Revati nodded kindly, “Wesley has been winning fights for the Rutherfords, namely Lara, for a while now.” She glanced over to the man in question, noting the sea of fangirls gathered around him. “I think you two would get along. You both have a strong fanbase.” It was all a bit much.

Dev. Perhaps hardcore was a step down from the animalistic nature he presented in the ring. Revati nodded, agreeing with Alessa, but added, “Dev’s fights are...brutal. Tonight might be a little different though.” Her eyes trailed through the opposition: the French, and Italians. “You’re right about the groupies though. Maybe we should have brought signs?”

“Think you’ll place any bets tonight?”

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thierry-vendroux :

“I hear there’s this really charming overly attractive French guy whose got a good chance at winning. You wouldn’t happen to know what his name was?“ Thierry asked with a straight face though after a moment the corner of his lips pulled wider and he offered her a smile. "You’ve actually picked a good choice.  Wesley is a fine fighter. I’m sure whom ever he faces will have a real challenge on their hands.”

Before Revati could offer her opinion on the hottest Frenchman prospect in the room, the man in front of her smiled in something of baiting guilt. She chimed in a laughed as she realized he was talking about himself; ‘that was good’. All of the French loyalists seemed to be good looking people, it was such a pity. For an amused measure, she pointed at a man lingering around the French heads, “I believe his name is Julien.”

The Brit offered a hand, “Revati.”

“It’d be sad to see otherwise,” she said in honesty, appreciating the man’s respect for the Rutherford’s best team player. “I don’t think I heard you betting on him though. Want to share your choice, or will I have to get you a drink first?”