flashback -- may 4th, 2018
Do not disappoint me, Sera.
Milena King’s words reverberated within the hallways of her mind for the entirety of the car ride to some obscure convention outside of Montreal, promised to be chock full of elite professionals in the medical field and utterly unavoidable by one in particular. Sidling up to the eldest Delore with the effort to gain knowledge on his ADA sister was hardly Sera’s most anticipated assignment, however it did exist as her most dangerous thus far. Eleven years within the syndicate and Milena had not once singled her out for an opportunity such as this, though perhaps it was only doled out now under the impression that the capo might fail entirely. At least then the head of their organization might have ample reason to rid them of Sera for good without push back from Zephyr. Oh, the wicked games she played.
Fingertips brush the fabric of her dress down as she steps from the car, already analyzing every crevice of the building whilst a pair of expensive heels gifted by Milena herself carry Sera up the stairs to a pair of glass front doors. If you’re going to play the part, then you might as well look it. Once more she heard the Boss’s words echo from within as a deep breath overtook her frame, steadying the brunette before she entered the already crowded space. So many faces. So many personalities. How was she to know where one might even begin searching for a blonde needle in a haystack? Memory of his picture is vague, features not quite settled enough in the brief moment she was shown it to force recognition now.
She thinks she’s seen him. Once. Twice. A third time has her tapping an older gentleman on the shoulder. “Excuse me, have you seen Doctor Simon Delore?” But of course he has, the mystery party she can’t quite locate is the keynote speaker, he’s already made rounds throughout the room. A leering gaze from her assistant is not missed, but she opts to ignore it in favor of sifting through the crowd towards his indicated direction. Then, as if Allah himself has granted her this one sliver of relief, a pair of chattering women depart from in front of her to reveal the subject of the entire mission standing only meters away.
It’s in this moment that Sera becomes startlingly aware that she has no concept of how to lure a man away from fidelity. Let alone a Delore.
@sidelore
Simon shouldn't have been at that convention. He knew that. Had reminded himself consistently throughout the length of the trip. Leaving Montreal for the week had been a terrible decision, yet he'd found himself with his bags packed and readied at the door with almost no hesitation. I have to do this, he told himself, Have to carry on for Sammy. For Jane. And yet, part of his reluctance in staying had everything to do with the latter. Following Eva Clair's sickness, Simon spent much of his time among colleagues and personal acquaintances in oncology, securing the best and most effective treatments available for his little girl. But Eva was tired, and her young body grew more exhausted by the day. Soon, it was all too much for her. If it had been his decision, he'd have continued fighting until she'd taken her last breath. Perhaps it was a reflection of his own guilt that he'd found in his wife's eyes. He could have done more. Could have prevented the loss of their youngest child. It was part of his job. What he'd spent the majority of his life trying to master. It almost felt bittersweet to be carrying on in another city; about to give a speech about the miracles of modern medicine in surgery. Si didn't feel very much like medicine had been a marvel at all. They hadn't come far enough. Not when it mattered. When they'd arrived at the conference, he'd been made aware that his speech would take place during dinner on the first night. It didn't bother him all that much, considering the majority of it's attendants would be boozy by the main course- the champagne flowing freely. Si never cared for the stuff, and it wouldn't have made him feel any better about the ridiculous suit he'd put on for the event. Ties had always made him uncomfortable, even in his younger days when he'd been expected to wear one to every banquet, gala, and fundraiser. He'd done his best not to fidget in between every conversation, but he failed. A single hour had barely passed before he'd finally had enough. To everybody who'd wandered by, he'd offered a painted on smile, pearly whites a simple facade to keep suspicion of his discomfort from arising. Once he was certain that no one was watching him, he'd swiveled lightly on his heel and loosened the knot, yanking the dark silk from around his collar in one swift motion. "Fucking thing." He muttered beneath his breath, his hands moving to find the pockets of his dark slacks so that he could tuck it inside. "More champagne sir?" A waiter appears as if from nowhere, nearly startling the doctor. "Christ," He breathes, “Anyone ever tell you-you should wear a bell?”
"No, of course not. No. I thought dinner started at 7 o'clock. What's the hold-up?" The waiter informs him that dinner does, in fact, start at 8, which meant he was stuck shmoozing for at least another half hour. Now more than ever he is certain that he should not have come.
