[ @oftybalts ] 0005. 19/01/2017. 08:38pm. FLASHBACK: IN A CAR SOMEWHERE.
It’s 20:38. She’s pretty sure it’s been 20:38 for the past three hours. The archaic red glare of the digital clock mocks her from the similarly prehistoric dashboard of their laughably ancient car. The seats are made from a fabric not dissimilar to a carpet and everything resembles a mustard colour. She’s pretty sure that Cosimo himself had owned the vehicle when he was in his twenties, which certainly said something. The retro-mobile’s only saving grace was, perhaps, the ashtrays set into the doors -- if it wasn’t for the fact that they had already smoked half a packet between them, she was pretty certain that the musty scent of the interior would have resulted in abandoning their task for a sweet lungful of not-so-fresh roadside air. All in all, it’s a decent cover. Nobody in their right mind would spend this long on a stakeout in a car that belonged in a museum. Luckily for the Capulets, Grace and Tiberius weren’t exactly right mind sort of people.
“I’m so bored,” Grace complains, not for the first time and certainly not the last. Her finger toys with the glove compartment latch, opening and closing the drop-down door over and over again. The shine of a gun in the low light flashes its greeting from inside with each motion. “There’s rewatching a film I’ve just seen kind of bored. And going to sleep because I’ve got nothing better to do kind of bored. But this? This is venturing on my brain cells playing their own version of The Hunger Games because they don’t want to endure this level of dull forever kind of bored.” With an unnecessarily drawn out sigh, she ceases in her restless fiddling and lets her skull knock against the window, the glass cool against the side of her face.
A brief glimmer of excitement comes in the form of a cat stalking across the road; but then it vanishes into the night and they’re plunged back into monotonous limbo.
She values Tiberius, perhaps more so than any of their other fellow Capulets. He smells like a rich daddy’s boy but can kill a man in less than five seconds, which makes up for the fact that he’s so disgustingly pretty. If she was feeling particularly sentimental, she may have told him that there was only one other person that she would want to be stuck in a car with for this long, and that would be Roman Montague (except he’d be dead and she’d be drinking a bottle of something expensive whilst admiring her handiwork). The thought is a pleasing one and Grace catches herself smiling in her windshield reflection. “We’re going to play a game,” she abruptly tells Tiberius, giving him absolutely no say in the matter. “Fuck, marry, kill: Lady Macbeth, Titania, Volumnia.”