The Moulin Rouge had become one of Cicero's favorite places he'd been in a long time. Music, dancing, entertainment, and easy, so easy prey. More than one dancer would wake up with a blurry memory and a bruised and bitten neck. They never connected Cicero to the violence though- not the Italian with a playful lilt to his voice and a charming gaze.
Oh, and the gossip Cicero learned just by being a literal fly on the wall. Oh, The Duke was a clever fox, but he seemed to miss the obvious fact his beloved Diamond wasn't his alone. Cicero had spotted Satine and some soft eyed poet sneaking off together. That was delightful... and would just give him fuel in his manipulation of the Duke.
Tonight, rather than meet at the Moulin Rouge, Cicero had invited Andre to his home. Not a sprawling estate or anything, but a luxurious enough flat for him and his darling Gloria.
"Cicero? The Duke has arrived."
Speaking of which. Cicero beamed at his guest. "Your grace, you decided to come! I'm honored. Gloria, darling, I'll see you in the morning."
Translation: leave. While I enjoy inserting myself into this drama.














