Author's Note : I finally ran out of things to say, I think…
Russian Roulette : Second Chamber
Chapter 91
(Tuesday the 15th of February, 1972 continued. Sonya's Condo, Mafia Land.)
The first split second of warning was Shamal's darting glance to the front lobby door. Ganauche pushed paused on the remote in response, cocking his head to the side as no one was expected to come back yet but someone was unlocking the door.
"Aww…" Whined his soon-to-be-nephew next to him in mild disappointment as the crappy horror movie 'Attack of the Puppet People' froze mid-scene.
Tatiana booted the door to the elevator lobby open, pissed off from head to toe and still in her hospital scrubs even if she shouldn't have been back for a couple more hours. "Where the fuck is that brat?"
Shamal peered at her warily from over the couch's arm with wide eyes. "…uh, zia?"
"Not you, brat. The brat of brats. My dumbass little sister."
"Not back… yet? Babe, what's wrong?"
Shamal looked equally as utterly confused as him, and tipping his head back against the couch told him Cesare had no fucking clue either. Verde, sitting in an armchair in the corner with all the formulas for 'regeneration solutions' and blood weight calculations to occupy himself with, raised his own head in confusion as he blinked myopically behind his thick glasses.
"That 'diplomatic'," Tatiana hissed with all the sarcasm, "mission Nya went on… it's all over the Chinatown sector, and it's rapidly spreading. Nya didn't just go to dump all the greetings from Italy on some baby Sky's Triad Head. She also decided to abscond with the girl to a fucking dive bar, magically find her very first Guardian in some random woman off the street, then return her plus shiny new Guardian before anyone realized the Sky got nabbed from them."
"…I'm calling bullshit." Ganauche announced flatly, hauling his ass off the couch to grab the phone first.
"Babe-"
"Your sister's not stupid." He insisted before the woman he loved spazzed out in a ball of sheer frustrated stress even he couldn't get her out of. "Not only is she not stupid, she's apparently formally trained to be diplomatic. Somehow. Fuck if I know how the hell someone got a Hard Flame Cloud trained up like that, and your brother is a damn fine example of how good she has to be. I bet you, babe, Vongola had something to do with this."
"Ganauche, they're sticking an assassin on her ass. Half very grudging 'thank you' and half 'you ever try to do this again, he will kill you' affair. I fully believe they've got no clue she's undead just yet, but it's a Storm assassin. They put Fon in that spot."
…yeah, that was real neat and tidy, her own Triad 'friend' to force distance. Not.
Still bullshit.
Abandoning his pre-meal prep to maybe start lunch in a few hours, Cesare fetched him the phone then very politely waited right there. Half leaning against the island counter that separated the living and the kitchen areas, and very much not intending to move a damn no matter what.
Fair enough.
There were ways to get past the Iron Fort's reception center, and Ganauche shamelessly used his as the Lightning Guardian to punch through directly to Timoteo's desk. Being part of the way into the week and all, his Sky was exactly where he thought he'd be and answered promptly.
"Timoteo, what the hell was Sonya doing for us in China?"
"You'll have to talk to Daniella for the detail you likely want, it was between them. I was told only to provide some of the distraction as help. I'd like a report of everything said and at what time if you can to help further, Ganauche."
"Sure, patch me through?" He pointedly glanced at his worried fiancée, firmly and with all his sympathy for getting caught flat-footed by this. "She was working for us, babe. Vongola's not going to leave her on a ledge, okay? Timoteo knows and has us on it, even if he didn't tell me before it went down. So… we need to react like we don't know."
Tatiana hissed out a semi-hysterical laugh, a desperate and still highly stressed-out sound. Striding across the open planned living room she shared with her sister until the wedding, she collapsed on the couch with her worried and willing to hug nephew. Shamal climbed right into her arms to let her squeeze away at least some of her worries, the smart kid.
Cesare drummed his nails off the countertop, and Ganauche gestured to the receiver in his other hand. "I don't know Daniella's schedule, no one does but her and her people. It'll take a moment, man."
The murderous chef crossed his arms over his chest, but at least stopped giving a demonstration of his suddenly massive ill-humor with him.
Which… kind of sucked. The other Mafioso was a damn fine cook, and gleefully going overboard with the black charge card exclusive to Mafia Land's rare handful of extremely valued agents temporarily in his possession.
The cutesy little jingle some wiseass had play when anyone calling the Iron Fort got put on hold suddenly cut out in his ear. "Good morning-"
"Carcano, put the old woman on."
"…hello to you too, Ganauche the First." Snipped Dainella's Storm Guardian bitchily, but then did so.
He knew why they named his 'temporary replacement' with his own handle and stuck him with 'the First' to differentiate, Ganauche still really resented that a bit. Just a bit, he wasn't dead fuckers and apparently 'the Second' had his own damn baby Sky to fuss over rather than his.
Borrowing a Guardian from another Sky wasn't weird, it happened when your own was out for medical needs or the individual in question had a better set of skills for a singular need. Daniella freely assigned her Guardians to whatever domestic trouble was up still, half of them still had regular jobs in the Iron Fort. Just because the baby Sky they found out in the middle of nowhere was the one who had 'Ganauche the Second' didn't mean Timoteo's Lightning Guardian was being replaced.
Lucian Pello might've snatched the Lightning 'temporary replacement' from Timoteo while he was out here to get his eye back, but hey. Kids will be kids, Active Sky kids were a heap of trouble on top of that, and maybe baby cousin just needed some stability right now.
"Ganauche, who's all with you?"
"Tats, the brat Shamal, two of Sonya's people. Verde and Cesare."
Daniella then gave him exactly what he called for without needing to be asked, so he was utterly fucking right. "Put me on speaker so I can talk to your girl."
Ganauche did so immediately. "Go ahead, Lady Vongola."
"Tatiana. We asked her to do this. She will not suffer for assisting us in saving a young girl's quality of life, upon her own request for aid."
That little did not sell Verde, but it saved him from probably being messily murdered by the much stronger Lightning when he was least expecting it later. The man at least sat back to listen with his paperwork instead of remaining as taught as a live wire and too hyper focused on his hide as the closest to target with his sudden bout of massive irritation.
"Your sister put me in touch with young Miss Duyi, the Sky of the Wo Hop To Triad, to guide as an elder Sky to a new debutant. It's been more than a full year after Nuan's Flames revealed themselves, she still had no prospective Guardians to speak of. The morons in China, since the Wo Hop To has all of a specific type of Flame users and he requested different types from other Triads to flesh out the choices, tried to stick her with inadequate options to pick from. Easily manipulated, already vastly indebted to others, incompetent morons of just the right shade of power for her to start her off wrong-footed. The girl smartly and responsibly asked her uncle to pass to me to pass on to your sister that she required a touch more help if realistically possible. When I passed it on to your sister, Sonya agreed to assist her in a way I could not. Whatever it is, Vongola does not hang our friends out to dry after doing us such a favor."
Tatiana had her nose firmly buried in a marginally less worried Shamal's hair, but only blinked wide still yellow eyes at him as she settled down a tiny bit.
"Semi-working, Lady Vongola."
The old woman tisked in mild irritation. "Glisenti, fetch Revelli to talk to his successor down from a ledge for us all before a string of critically major surgeries. What's being said, Ganauche?"
"Sonya went to deliver Italia's greetings to the Triad in question, apparently got bored and stole their Sky out of the place for a bit. Took her to a bar, found her a Guardian, returned both of them without anyone being any the wiser that she did it. Apparently then walked right on out again."
"Perfect. Utterly, precisely perfect of her. Surprised she got away with no one else noticing, our contribution was just to provide an excuse for the uncle and parents to be 'distracted' from noticing to allow it. Nuan must have been more stressed about it than she let on to me."
"Yeah… not the part that's setting my lady Sun off, Daniella." Ganauche countered with only some of the irritation he felt at not knowing and Tatiana's two-seconds-from-tearful stress out by consequence. "The Triads are apparently responding with sticking an assassin on Sonya. Some bullshit 'thanks, but don't ever do this again' kind of threat in her own damn friend. The Fon guy, Storm."
"…cruel. But. It cannot be as it seems. The Mountain Master of the Wo Hop To Triads was the one to convey his niece's request to me. He knows full well what's owed, and I do not take Duyi Zhōng as a stupidly ungrateful sort for the services done for him and his."
His fiancée sniffed miserably first, then basically burst into tears on a now highly alarmed Shamal.
"There we go." He probably needlessly informed the old Sky on the other side of the phone call. "She's feeling better, Daniella."
"Good."
"Though… I thought I heard from Visconti that Sonya was pissed with you? For something you said while meeting with her and Fiorella for something?"
"You were supposed to think so, and please remain believing so." Daniella sharply countered with no amusement. "Sonya required Sky specific details to help guide the situation to the best possible outcome we could hope for. With her need of absolute operational secrecy to pull this off without destroying the lines of communication and our diplomatic ties, we arranged for a 'different reason' for the 'confrontation' between her and I."
The old grandmother wanted her own Sun Guardian to ensure everything would indeed remain steady, whatever limited 'working' her words were doing through a phone. That's why she was still talking, just to buy the old Sun time to get to her to do it.
Ganauche was fine with that if she wanted it, she did the whole important 'calm Tats down by reaffirming they would be helping' part first. "My mouth's shut. Guys?"
"Of course, Ganauche. Lady Vongola." Cesare gave in for now, shoving off to go back to his meal prep as demanded by the nurse.
Verde heaved an aggravated sigh from his spot, but the man flapped a hand in his direction and buried his nose back into rechecking all the formulas for Tatiana using St. Julian's figures for them.
"Verde's pretending ignorance." He conveyed for the old Lady Vongola since the Frenchman was not in the mood to promise shit, probably not until Sonya decided what he'd say for him if ever asked. "Shamal?"
"Zia's crying! Busy!"
"And Shamal's got his 'excuse' to have not been paying any attention firmly in hand."
"Mamma's coming in, too." Reported the busy Mist giving a distressed Sun the hugs she needed and Constructing all the tissues for her while the floating box of them got into grabbing range, before the elevator could even ding an arrival.
"And the thief is back free and clear." Ganauche obligingly reported as the woman of the hour came through her own front door with a mild frown for it having been left open and a dog at her hip.
Sonya was flat out exhausted looking, probably didn't sleep or rest at all on whatever bit of transport got her from Hong Kong back here due to the risk. She equally was not enthused with all the attention nailed on her, vastly unhappy her sister wasn't happy, but focused on the phone first as she shut the door behind Alek's fluffy banner of a tail. "Who?"
"Daniella."
"…whoever's got money on yellow won the pot."
"A Sun Guardian?" Daniella asked in a sharply different tone than she had been taking with him, significantly more polite.
"We were fishing for anything. Don't complain." Sonya snipped back tiredly in Italian as she divested herself of her own boots at the doorway and Alek 'fetched' them to sit on the shoe rack properly for her. "Sunshine's got guts, was an office bunny… with razor blades up her sleeve for 'trouble'. Fully willing to use it if she needs to and damn well did. Almost took out Fon's eye with one. No Triad, no bloody clue… but fully the Princess' own woman now. With glee and willing to do the whole emotional support she could ever want from the get-go. Inverted, Soft, Flame Sun."
"Good find." Praised the elderly Sky mildly. "Feel free to leave us to assure your sister, Sonya. You sound as if you need sleep."
"She looks like she needs sleep." Ganauche reported almost on automatic, wincing after a second when he realized that maybe he shouldn't do that to his almost sister-in-law.
"I'm going to bed." Flatly ignoring that slight breach in Lightning on a phone call etiquette, either in ignorance or without caring, the exhausted woman padded over to her sister first. "Tats, if you want to you can climb into bed with me later once you're… not wet. Just leave your boy toy out of it. I'm sorry about the timing, really. This is a banned public holiday, the Triads still celebrate it and bribe all the people they can to ignore it going on well beforehand. I didn't have a cleaner shot to get this in."
"It's okay. I'm okay. We'll talk later, Nya."
"…okay." Not remotely sold but entirely too exhausted to stand there and argue with an already crying Sun, Sonya warily eyed him first then refocused on the phone. "Anything else?"
"Nothing that cannot wait for a better time." Daniella dismissed casually. "I'm getting off to let Revelli talk here myself, sleep well."
"Sure." Still warily eyeing the phone dubiously, then shooting him another look, finally the woman just waved dismissively as she slogged on to her own bedroom.
Tatiana squeezed Shamal extra hard in thanks for being her teddy bear in a pinch, dumping the relieved boy to the couch as she scrambled up and to the phone to take herself.
The kid, very pointedly, looked Ganauche in his remaining eye and waved at the television still showing where he paused the movie they were in the middle of. Rumpled, slightly wet hair, and entirely expectant for him to move his ass already so they could get back to it.
With a rueful laugh he gave his fiancée possession of the phone and a 'I'm sorry' kiss first.
"WHY the FUCK is my BED covered in TULIPS?" Sonya shouted at them all in utter aggravation. "No, WHY IS MY BED NOW TULIPS?"
"…uh…" Shamal blushed slightly, and sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "Reborn said thanks, mamma?"
There was six seconds of utter silence, he measuredly counted each of them by the ticking clock on the wall.
"I do not even care. Whatever. My bed is now flowers. Sure. Goodnight. Someone remember to let Alek out in an hour or two before he chews up any more doors." With that, the thief slammed her bedroom door shut on a canine snout before Alek could even decide if he wanted to enter that now very floral room or not.
The dog apparently couldn't decide if he was relieved or disappointed to be left in the hallway, glancing around in utter if hesitant confusion.
Tatiana spluttered-sobbed-giggled into his chest with the receiver still in both hands. "Holy shit, what?"
"Shamal… care to clarify that a little bit?" Cesare inquired very pointedly, setting his sights on the boy and with a hand still holding a very sharp chef's knife.
"Mamma's really Stormy right now, it was supposed to make her feel better! Girls like flowers, right? Right?"
"What kind of tulips?" Verde inquired suspiciously. "Colors, child."
"Mostly white? There were a lot of oranges, yellows, and pink ones too."
"No red?"
Shamal had to think about that one for a moment. "Does pinkish-purple with red bits or yellow-orange with reddish spots count?"
"No." With an annoyed sniff, the man went back again to the paperwork in his hands. "Comfort yourself that at least the man did not use you to deliver a crass message."
"What was the message?" Ganauche couldn't help but ask.
"Depending upon arrangement…" Squinting suspiciously at whatever the brat had his hands cupped to show him, the other Lightning gave a grumpy harrumph before continuing. "Shockingly tasteful, I suppose. Mostly white, indeed. Without directly inquiring, this is still an assumption of intended communication."
"Duly noted." Cesare interjected sarcastically. "The message, Verde."
"As it is mainly composed of white, presumably a notice of her purity of character. The yellow and pink starburst arrangement on the 'bedspread' could be just happiness and confidence, otherwise hopeless pinning and friendship. The scattering of orange tulips are… attraction. Physical attraction."
"What if it had been red?" He asked curiously.
"People give red tulips for the same reason they give red roses. Figure it out yourself." Mildly annoyed at all the interruptions so far, Verde gathered up his work to probably go kick his roommate out of their room to do it in privacy. "Had he gone with red tulips…"
"I don't think we should take that off the table just yet, Verde." Countered the unamused chef pointedly. "Shamal, next time, you have someone verify what Reborn wants to leave the Lovely Bossy Dragoness. Flowers are never a bad idea, child… right this moment was not the best time for it."
"Lay off my nephew. He just wanted to make Nya feel better, and it is a sweet thought." Tatiana sniffed wetly, putting the phone up to her ear. "Sorry, Revelli. There was a… yeah, of course you heard. Still."
"We weren't exactly told anything about what she was up to." Ganauche tacked on fairly for the embarrassed kid. "How the hell were we supposed to know she'd get back tired? Besides, from the sounds of it, she's still going to sleep on it."
"Lando's x-rays should be done in another hour or so," continued the nurse for Cesare's benefit in English before switching back to Italian to keep talking to the old Sun Guardian, "no, actually. The whole leg was surprisingly neatly severed for a field amputation. Tall, dark, and snarky at least knew the right way to do it and what to cauterize close immediately, saves us a lot of work."
Cesare grimaced in pained remembrance, hurriedly going back to his meal prep with a vengeance.
"No shop talk, babe."
"…whoops. Sorry, Cesare."
"As you will be fixing it, lovely, it is quite alright. But please, that was not a good day for us."
(ooo000ooo)
(Tuesday the 15th of February, 1972 continued. Sonya's Condo, Mafia Land.)
…a bed of flowers was actually not all that comfortable, her bed would've been better.
Sonya suspected she'd be covered in pollen by the time she got up, and yes. Yes she was.
The whole arrangement didn't last through her sitting her ass down, much less getting cozy, but at least now she knew sleeping on flowers was not that comfortable.
Interesting but kind of weird bed arrangement or not, she didn't know if tulips were safe for doggies to eat. Until then, either when she knew it was safe or Shamal put her bed back and got rid of the flowers, Alek had to remain out of her room. Fuck knew her dumbass fluffy boy would try eating a few just to see if it was edible or not.
Four hours really wasn't enough sleep, but if she'd be making the surgery appointment tomorrow she had to sleep at some point tonight. Hopefully Verde wouldn't mind her snuggling in with him for at least a handful of hours, and Adrik could just suck it up like a man or find himself a different bed for a while.
Why they had to share a room with two beds, when she still had extra rooms open, was beyond her.
Sonya dragged herself upright when she inevitably snapped awake entirely too few hours in, checked to be sure it had been four hours and not one or eight, then shuffled her way through a very hot shower.
It didn't help, she still smelled like a bruised garden bed. Just without the earthy dirt part.
Mildly annoyed by that, Sonya zombied her way out to see what Cesare had in leftovers or could reheat for her to eat.
"Sonya, what the hell did you do?"
Pausing, she eyed Natalina sourly. "What everyone else was too much of a pussy to do."
Her Mafioso cough-snorted his wine again at the kitchen table, he had a really terrible habit of taking a sip at the wrong moment. "Honey, please. May I?"
"…how much did Daniella tell you?"
"More than enough in aims of calming down your sister that I at least know the general situation. I swear, on everything we have left, they'll keep their traps shut too."
Sonya batted a limp hand at him to let him do whatever the hell he wanted, half to make up for not telling him herself the moment she didn't need the utter deniability. Shit would be said no matter what now, the truth getting out now didn't matter a damn. She aimed herself for the fridge while he started laying out the situation for Dante, Natalina, Lando, and Adrik.
She pinned the other Russian on the couch watching some stupid sitcom with a sour look on her way, the no longer head of her domestic security mimed a key locking his mouth shut.
…the fridge was kind of… stuffed. There was a lot of food, some pre-cut things in Tupperware containers stacked on top of marinating meat cuts in plastic film protected ceramic bowls, a whole trifle left to chill… she didn't think she owned a trifle's very specific glass… bucket-thing on a stand.
"Whatever you want, Lovely Bossy Dragoness. I have many alternatives in mind, no matter what dinner will be done on time."
"…right." She grabbed a jar of some kind of yogurt affair, as she at least recognized that as not being in the middle of being prepared or made up. Probably the leftovers from making that trifle.
"You didn't-"
"You," Cesare cut off Dante before he could finish, "didn't save a young lady from a shit life at the eleventh hour. Nor are you one of the ones burning their own willpower to correct past injustices for our lamed fellows. Or both, as in this case. Shut up."
Sonya got herself a spoon and sat her own damn ass on her own damn counter to listen to the chef lay out the bare basics of bones and what all happened because of it.
The news of what Zhōng was spinning Fon's 'five years' as was a surprise.
…actually.
The Storm was a shit liar, still was entirely loyal to his Mountain Master, and it was entirely possible the five years thing wasn't Fon's idea. She smelled a setup.
Now she wasn't achingly tired and exhausted, buffeted by an honestly distressed and lonely Sky's Flames seeking a desperate Harmony with anything that might reach back or a bristling Sun who knew without knowing there was another Sun around who might threaten her Harmony… it was very likely Fon just told Zhōng straight out he'd like time off or some other shit.
'Other shit' being 'Reborn asked if she's single, and she didn't turn him down' kind of shit.
Great.
Nice 'business in need of taking care of', Fon. Jackass.
Not being a stupid moron, though great uncle for all she didn't appreciate his still only suspected manipulations, Duyi very likely said 'your' five years as in Fon had five years to try it in.
Then rolling with her assumption because… why not?
Eh… she needed Skull to probably figure out the rest of it to any accurate degree. People confused the fuck out of her.
Sonya still did not do well trying to talk under pressure. She should've just kept her mouth shut.
Speaking of… "Slight correction, Cesare. Fon is going to be with us for five years."
"…really."
"The Arcobaleno thing, mainly. He is the only one that is not unaffiliated or the head of their own group, or Skull in the underboss and I do not give a shit what he is up to."
Her Mafioso leaned back to fully see her from his place at the table. "And?"
"His little sister, I yelled at him on the ferry for not spending enough time with her. If the Triads in general know he is actually really fond of her they will put her in a cage for 'her protection'. Which is… kind of shit. So do not talk about that."
Holding up two fingers, wiggling a third, he remained pointedly interested.
"…yeah. Reborn asked, Fon went 'ooh, I want in'."
"You know they're not going to be the only two, honey… right?"
Sonya stuck her spoon in her mouth and glared. "I do not want to hear it."
"The moment," Cesare informed her with relish, "it gets out you may be accepting of male attention… you'll be getting quite a lot of it. Now, to be clear. Reborn the World's Greatest Hitman? Fon the 'Eye of the Storm' and three times Underworld Martial Arts champion? Are two very impressive gentlemen. Stiff competition and all… and possibly murderously competitive. You might have a lot of suddenly dead suitors…"
"No. I am not accepting responsibility for anyone that gets in their way. They both are going to do whatever they want to do, and I do not have to put up with it. Or them. Or anything. I barely know if I want to put up with this 'suitor' thing."
Natalina hastily rose to her feet as Adrik started laughing. "I'll spread the word."
"I'll make some calls." Dante tacked on just as hurriedly, bolting for the phone to do said calls.
The lamed Russian hit the floor still laughing his head off, she blinked slowly in mild offense, and Lando heaved a sigh before downing the entire half a mug of beer he had in front of him in one long swallow.
"Start with Skull, then Vongola." Cesare cheerfully bid at the Mafia School Professor's back only to be flipped off, turning in his seat to look at her straight on. "Honey, let me. Between myself and your brother, we'll cull the whole mess for you. To a bare minimum."
"I may not even put up with that." Sonya stated firmly as she scraped the little jar for whatever was left of her snack. "I do not want a boyfriend, Cesare. I tried a Mafioso, I know where that ends. Fon is… Fon. I am not even certain if it is 'a possibility' he never considered before Reborn did it that he suddenly wants to figure out, or if he is at all interested in me specifically."
"Boyfriends are for women with less power and without their own army of people, honey." Corrected her Mafioso apologetically. "What you had with Renato was special, but equally as casual in the way of the unaffiliated and masters of only their own person. You are the mistress of quite a bit more, now. Not only that, but a talented Cloud of a pair of very impressive examples. Italia will want your bloodline to continue on firmly into their next generation, any number of fools will try for your crown as Donna de Mort to hold themselves, your political connections, your undeath? You are a quite lovely prize, honey, and your thieving skills are quite the lovely cherry on top."
She froze, looked up at him, and snorted in his face. "Hell no. I am no prize, Cesare."
"I, and everyone else that know you, know this. Everyone else…? They deserve a fair warning… yes?"
"Quick study." Sonya muttered sourly around her spoon. "Fine. Whatever. Do what you want. Before you bother me with shit, they have to survive telling Reborn and Fon they want to add in. Might as well use them for something if they are going to be doing this shit to me."
"If you have a tattoo for this, of course we could do that instead." Teased the killer chef wickedly with a flourish of a hand. "I merely wish to get the Italian-centric mess in hand quickly for you before someone presses your boundaries doing something… very stupid."
"Yes, fine. Thank you, Cesare. For being wonderful and efficient and keeping things neat. Happy now?"
"Superbly." Purred the man back, still entirely too amused at her expense.
Adrik started hacking, spluttering, and just generally being a mess on said floor. Of course any sound of respiratory distress summoned Verde like a grumpy green genie from whatever the hell he was doing, thunderously unhappy and intent on righting his friend before he killed himself. "What the blazes is going on?"
"Verde, can I go back to dating you?"
The man stopped, peered at her suspiciously with all the dubious confusion, then blinked once. "…no."
"You are an absolute dick."
"Yes, I do indeed have this part of male anatomy you named. I am not solely comprised of one." He countered almost by rote now, striding across the floor to haul the man who had surgery tomorrow off it and back into the couch to see if just righting him would solve his distress. "For what bloody reason do you ask this of me now, Sonya?"
"Fon added in on her 'suitor' problem." Cesare informed him brightly like the utter asshole he was. "And I have just warned her it is likely not going to stop at him."
Verde eyeballed him warily, glanced at her skeptically, then looked back in bewilderment at Adrik.
"Surprise." Painfully croaked out the security specialist thief, still jerking with the odd stifled laugh as he tried to calm himself down. "Fuck, Dimitry's going to have a fucking ball with this shit. He's going to get so much bribery just to fuck with their heads…"
The Lightning cocked his head to the side. Then he looked her straight in the eye pointedly. "Hell no. I will forever be your friend, Sonya… but we both know I am not enough for you. You cannot hide behind me for long, even if I agreed. Which would do you a rather drastic disservice. Regardless… I have no wish to be murdered right now, so my answer remains as stated."
Sonya flipped him off in all the irritation.
"…I will have to decline, though I appreciate the offer." Verde tossed at her absently, vaguely satisfied now his best friend wasn't going to keel over right before his surgery to fix his lung.
Lando pointedly thumped his mug on the table to attract the killer chef's, and everyone else's, attention. "What?"
"May I introduce you to the 'rebound'?" Offered her Mafioso very politely in response. "Or… can I ask exactly what that was all about and how you'd like it to be known?"
She glanced at the man in question, who only just hitched a shoulder in dismissive allowance. "Verde's my 'hot summer fling'."
Adrik snorted in Verde's face, much to the man's mild annoyance as he keeled over again in really stupid wheezy snickers.
"I am becoming severely tempted to leave you here to die on your own."
"I think… heh. I think I might need to go to bed, Verde my man. Before she does kill me with this shit."
Heaving a very put-upon sigh, the Lightning hauled the other man to his feet. "Very well."
"…how?" Lando demanded of him before he even got one step, waving roughly in her general direction with disbelief.
Verde looked at him for exactly two seconds before snorting in his face. "Some women appreciate an exacting attention paid to the fine details. Excuse us."
The lamed Mafioso thought about that as they left the open center room of her condo. "Yeah, okay. Fuck me…"
"Rather not." Sonya put in dryly as she discarded the spoon and empty jar to the sink.
"Hard pass." Cesare informed him bluntly.
Dante shot the man a suspicious look and kept his hands firmly around the phone next to his ear.
"Ha, ha, ha." Lando muttered sourly and eyed his empty mug in regret. "You're all hilarious."
"…Cesare… why do I suddenly have silver utensils?"
"You said everything, Lovely Bossy Dragoness. I am cooking for quite a few people right now, and silver works very well as a general toxin detection. Just to… keep things neat, yes?"
"I better not have gold plates."
"Of course not, honey. Gold is such a soft metal, makes for very poor plates."
Sonya, very suspiciously, opened the cupboards just to double check.
"Your faith." Mocked Cesare with utter delight as she eyed every single one of her plain white plates and the matching bowls neatly stacked next to them. "No. I only replaced your silverware… and your knives. Mostly the knives, they were not very good."
She very pointedly gestured to the two new kitchen tools sitting out on the counter down at the far end where it met the wall. The utterly monstrous espresso and coffee brewing thing that had entirely too many switches and dials for her, and a KitchenAid mixing bowl machine.
"You didn't have either, and I couldn't just expect Tatiana to do without until her wedding. I'm no cruel uncaring beast. She is entirely too busy for such nonsense."
"Just her."
"…honey, please stay out of my kitchen until I have time to supervise. Please."
(Wednesday the 16th of February, 1972. De Mort Castle, Moneglia, Province of Genoa, Liguria, Italian Republic.)
Reborn scowled pointedly. "That bastard."
Skull's high-pitched, tortured small animal squeal kept going.
"Well… mildly annoying." Glancing at the man across from him, the hitman then shot the Mirror Lady a skeptical look. "How long…?"
"Three more seconds, Master Reborn." Obliged the young lady politely.
Three seconds later, the stuntman keeled over and hit the floor. Yet the high-pitched noise kept going.
"…impressive lung capacity."
"We aren't entirely certain if it's just lung capacity."
He wondered about that, because knowing what he did… the other Mist in residence could entirely be the cause instead of Propagation of air in the other man's lungs. "Still impressive."
"As you say, Master Reborn."
"You are a delight, Mirror Lady."
"Thank you, sir." She even dipped him a textbook perfect curtsy, after basically calling him a moron ever so politely to his face.
Utterly charmed, he dipped her a nod back. "How long does this part last?"
Anna checked her hand mirror for him, thoughtfully frowning into it. "Five… four… three…?"
Two seconds later, Skull very loudly switched to shouting. Without taking a breath. "DUDE! MY SISTER! WHAT THE FUCK!"
"I am seated right across from you, and there are delicate children's ears around." Reborn reminded the man very pointedly. "Not that you're seated anymore. Mirror Lady, was that all from the night?"
"Professor D'Attilio's call came in at three-fourteen, Master Reborn. It was the last item of note I have to pass on. Ah… he did say he was to call Vongola next, and work through his contact list from there to pass on… a warning."
Of course he would, Cesare very obviously wanted structure to this. To be free to murder off the uncouth louts who might want to disrespect a Russian lady assuming she'd not know any better. "Then I bid you good morning here. Your help is delightfully useful. Usov takes over from now to…?"
"There is no fixed time, Master Reborn." Anna very politely denied him further information, same as her alternate day shift Mist did last night. "Usov is indeed awake and has taken over the security needs you asked for. I wish you and Ser Skull a pleasant morning."
Evaporating on the spot, the Mist left as neatly and unobtrusively as she arrived to deliver the morning report once they both were mostly finished with breakfast and fully awake.
Competence really was quite lovely to work with. "…Skull, get off the floor."
"Fuck you, man."
Reborn went back to the newspaper and nursing his espresso.
Ruslana was very obviously not Cesare, but the housekeeper's offering had greatly improved from the last time he had been here. She was no professional cook and expecting her to be as equal to the Mafioso chef would be churlish, it was entirely obvious she was improving on her own at Italian cuisine in a more than acceptable rate.
"Did you do this to Tatiana as well?"
"Tats chose her man." Suddenly boots were kicked up into the air, then Skull kickflipped off the floor in one smooth movement and was on his own feet again. "It wasn't 'oh we're going to chase her down', it was 'you know, I really like this guy'. Slight difference here, Reborn."
He pinned the man with a sharp look over the paper. "Formal."
"Russian." Countered the stuntman equally as pointedly as he took his seat again. "We don't have this bullshit. There's no 'formal' anything. The most formal we get is a fucking strip club back room, a hotel conference room with side option of hookers, or a damn brothel."
"…crass." Explained rather neatly why both the Cloud siblings were reacting like this, he merely thought Sonya not attending many formal gatherings while he was with them in Moscow was due to her 'limited oversight' vacation to spoil the brat. "If Sonya says no, Skull… it's a full stop. There's no 'chase down' a Flame using woman with her power, you might get away with that with a simple Mafia woman if her family doesn't murder you for the offense. A formal suit is 'if you would consider', stops when she says so, and otherwise is a visible effort to be judged by."
"Does China have these same 'formal' rules?"
"I highly doubt it, though I'm no expert."
Skull roughly rubbed his face in both hands, raked them through his shock of purple messy hair, then left them on top of his head as he glared his very soft 'I don't like you' aggravation at him. "And you're here…? Why? Really, why?"
"…she was shot through the heart on Mafia Land, Skull." Reborn reminded him darkly as he folded the paper to set by his empty plate. "No, I'm not here to 'score points' or whatever nonsense. Yes, I intended to inform you of this and ask for permission myself. Once things were less strained and I could leave as you obviously would rather I do."
Mostly, to avoid temptation himself. To not let anyone forget he had an in already with Donna de Mort, while keeping his damn hands to himself like she asked him to.
"It hurts, but it's not going to kill us."
That was not helping. "They can kill everyone else behind her back."
The man snorted a sarcastically harsh laugh in his face. "Yeah, we know."
Given his most 'recent' death was apparently done by his sister's hand when he put himself in the way of her assuming that very thing when too many arrived suddenly on their doorstep, the hitman did not doubt that a damn bit. "Hence, I'm here and not there. You've shared your undeath freely with your sisters, Skull. They've taken it on further. It earns you appreciation from those it helps."
Skull set his forearms on the tabletop and blew out a heavy sigh. "Okay. Alright. Still fucked up, man. I don't appreciate this…"
"You can blame Fon." Reborn offered pleasantly, and not gleefully like he was highly tempted to. "Had it just been me, this would have been a background type deal no one else needed to know about. One-on-one. That he added in makes it a public affair, as there's competition in need of warning another about… which informs others that she's open to maybe finding a man herself. Anyone interested in Donna de Mort, Nightshade, one of two undead Clouds, the Moscow expert of Flame use, owner of Flamelight Industrial the Flame stone store, so on… they will apply."
"…does Fon know that?"
"I've no idea." Hopefully, if not, that'll scare the man off.
As his luck was such shit, he doubted that'd work. Pleasant thought, though.
"Nya's going to hate this. She's not a 'public' woman." The Cloud informed him bluntly, which was actual honest help and it did surprise the Sun to get so readily without asking. "She's shameless sure, too many people around with expectations of her makes her more likely to slam shit into the ground than talk. You better be prepared for a shit ton of being flat out ignored."
"That actually explains a bit." There had not been a way to inform the dragon lady of what he was going to do when she spontaneously kissed him in front of her own people. Reborn hadn't a fucking clue he could get that in this early, so her reaction was entirely earned. "Anything else…?"
"What the hell is this 'permission' supposed to be?" Countered Skull without giving more. "Specifically."
"Italians are highly family-focused, and very Catholic. You ask a woman's father and brothers if they will allow you to see or court the sister."
"…you're not going to get that from us."
"Ho?"
"Whatever stupid shit just crossed your mind, do us all a favor and forget it." The underboss of the de Morts advised him flatly with a wave of his left hand. "It's not our right to tell Nya what she can or can't do. Neither me nor the old man would disrespect her like that. Nya's a full-grown woman, she's been managing her own damn affairs perfectly fine since she was fucking nine. Not just her own, every fucking Flame using kid that came through that fucking office got sorted by her or Dimitry. She'll manage her own damn affairs if it matters to her."
Reborn leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. "Well. That makes this part slightly more difficult."
"Is everyone going to try this bullshit? Because… the old man will murder people trying to get him to say if they can or can't try shit with his daughter. He'll assume it's stupid shit and will just cut out the transit time instead of letting Nya kill them for it if they're being idiots to his face."
"…efficient. And yes. Formal means strict rules, there's… quite a gauntlet. The father, you, her right-hand, her son. Once Ganauche the First marries your sister, then him too."
Skull plastered his right hand to his face in utter exasperation. "Why Ganauche and Cesare?"
"One's about to be your brother-in-law, the other's the master of her men and personal protection."
"We only have Cesare."
"So far."
He shot him such a disgusted, annoyed look through his fingers that Reborn rather enjoyed more than he should. "…excuse me real quick."
"Of course."
Dragging himself very reluctantly to the kitchen, the hitman shamelessly eavesdropped as the stuntman picked up a phone and punched a single button.
"…hey, Miss Fiorella? Yeah… yeah I heard. Just talked to Reborn about it. No, slight culture problem. Anyone that tries to start with asking 'permission' from the old man you might as well write off as dead. He's not going to understand, and he's not going to care because the way it's phrased is kind of insulting to us. You might want to tell people they need to start with me or Cesare, otherwise… huh."
A longer pause, then there was an entirely suspicious half-bitten off snerk.
"No. No, that's fine. I'm… utterly pleased to hear it. The call got picked up by our night watch, I didn't know until about five minutes ago when it was reported to us and I haven't yet called Nya or Tats about it since it's night-time for them. I just wanted to get in the 'don't try the old man first' bit early enough. Thanks, Miss Fiorella."
Skull hung up and left the kitchen significantly happier than he entered.
Reborn freely eyed him warily from under the brim of his fedora. "…good news?"
"Sometimes, Nya's fucking brilliant." Getting back into the 'bubble' of privacy presumably Usov was sustaining for them to talk frankly without letting the mostly civilian or children members of the de Mort famiglia overhear and assume, the stuntman smirked in his face. "She said, and it's being passed on to everyone, that anyone that wants to 'add in' first must clear it with you and Fon. So… enjoy."
…touché, little dragon lady. "I'm not going to be able to deny everything for you, I don't have good contacts in Italia anymore to piss off entire famiglias out of hand. Neither will Fon if he has any brain cells, though I have no doubt we'll weed most everything stupid out between us."
It'd also neatly feed into his introduction needs, if they wanted a shot at Donna de Mort they had to arrange an introduction to him first to do it. Or Fon, but a Triad man?
The Italians would go through Reborn first rather than a Chinese man if they had any sense. And he might just not be available at any specific time, oh well…
"If," Skull stressed pointedly as he slumped back into his chair, "you pass on the whole 'the Russian faction will not instantly understand about the permission' bit to whatever does… I'll tell you how to phrase that so the old man won't instantly have you killed or wring your neck himself."
…actual, solidly reliable help from the brother and twinned Flame. "You have my word."
"When you try it, say 'I'm interested in your younger daughter, do you have an objection to me'. He's going to have objections, Nya's his favorite, but at least you won't be immediately punched in the face and thrown out if not worse. Mom will want to know what the fuck you're doing, and probably won't be impressed with the need… but she went worldwide before Nya did it, so you can use her to translate any further issues."
He studied the other man thoughtfully. "Skull, I'm interested in your younger sister. Objections?"
"Yes." Shot back the Cloud instantly with brutal honesty. "I have many objections. They don't matter a damn because it's not my objections that count here. Nya will do whatever the hell she wants, and while I love her there's no fucking reason why I have to like everything that comes with her."
Reborn touched the brim of his hat in acknowledgement. "…you know, that sounds kind of-"
"I will, throw you out. Here by Vongola to help or not." Skull cut off instantly and with a rather surprising lack of mercy in his tone. "While Nya's gone, I'm the master of this territory. I do not want to hear raunchy jokes about either of my sisters. I am a very good brother, damn it."
"You are." He allowed for the man's rightful due, not quite able to help the evil grin creeping over his features. "Outside this territory, then?"
"I want you to think about this, honestly. How much would you want to hear that kind of shit, if it was your sister or daughter or mother being talked about?"
That was… not pleasant to think about, no. "…so never."
"Ever."
(ooo000ooo)
(Wednesday the 16th of February, 1972 continued. Experimental Surgery Suite, Saint Julian's Hospital, Mafia Land.)
"This is our head nurse, Nya. Nurse Fontana. Whatever he tells you, you do it."
Her sister looked the man in the eye still holding her freshly scrubbed hands aloft and pointedly away from contacting anything. "Is it allowed to touch my hands together?"
"No."
Mildly annoyed, the thief let that stand and looked back to Tatiana. "Alright."
"I'm not sure if you remember Doctor Chitundu, our head surgeon?"
"Vaguely." Eying the elderly African man who merely tipped her a nod in recognition, her sister attempted the same slight gesture so the face shield she had been given wouldn't bounce off her chest and need readjusting. Which would make her need to scrub her hands again. "Good morning?"
"To you as well, Miss Nightshade. Nurse Primakova."
"Okay, Tats? Why are you introducing me around?"
Because she was nervous, and routine helped her calm down by tiny bits.
"…protocol. Mostly. It's rude to assume everyone knows why you're here, and you're not a medical practitioner." She had to do it so many times assisting with surgeries on Kappel's recommendation, it's why she always did it to the head nurse of the operating theater first and moved on from there. Getting bitched out because the nurse directing the efforts had no idea for what reason she was there was embarrassing enough once. "Doctor Dehwar is our assisting surgeon this time."
"Good morning." Sonya repeated to him in a slightly flatter tone, but she hadn't objected and was still faithfully following Tatiana around as she was literally hired to do today.
Arms still firmly planted on either side of her own apron covered chest, hands held out in midair to not touch anything.
Even if she was a Storm as much as she was a Cloud, and Storm Flames scrubbed everything instantly.
"You might remember Traiko and Kulibin better."
Given the skeptical look pinned on the Rain, that might not be…
"Still a little shit?"
"Apparently, I will always be one."
"…great." Swapping to the Lightning, Sonya huffed a slight sigh. "Second cycle of Galina's Lightnings, right? You were on the medical support team for Old Man Milos."
Fyodor grinned brightly at her. "Yep, me and Dominik were the first two Lightnings assigned. Third cycle, though. Well after you left, Bazanova."
"I always mix those two up. I memorized everyone else I am responsible for, remembering which group is which for your type always trips me up since I did not make a point of it before you left. Before I left."
"We did lag behind everyone else a bit."
Tatiana hip-bumped her sister, who instantly and with a scowl jerked her bare hands away from any possibility she'd come into contact with them. "The brat was not your fault, Nya."
"I am going to start hitting people telling me that."
"The minute you accept it wasn't your fault, we'll stop."
Sonya glowered even more nastily at her, from safely behind her face shield and medical mask. "I hate you."
"Love you too, Nya."
"…ladies." Dehwar called out pointedly, his attention mostly on the signal lights over the operating theater's main swinging double doors. "Almost time."
The light had turned yellow, meaning Adrik was being sedated and prepped for surgery now.
"…five hundred rubles, Verde is going to get into that observation deck already crammed with idiots before Adrik is wheeled in."
"No bet." Tatiana turned her sister down flat, not even needing to look up to the windowed balcony to know all the 'idiots' by heart already. "Doctor Chitundu? Is there anything else you know we all may need to hear?"
The elderly man turned just to pointedly looked Sonya in the eye. "This Cloud Mirror you intend to use your Voodoo with, it means we will be discarding parts of the lung you create. I ask you not to be offended or alarmed. The lungs are not perfect mirrors of each other, and we will need to resize the shape as we go."
Her sister made a soft 'huh' sound. She bumped their hips together again to remind her words were needed here. "Ah… okay."
"You," Fontana ordered Sonya, gesturing to a spot next to the Lightning-run crash cart for the worst-case scenario, "here. Until you are needed. We will call you forward at that time, then you return here."
The thief obediently went.
"Doctor Dehwar?" Tatiana continued the usual routine, significantly more nervous.
The Pakistani man thought about it. He also turned to Sonya. "You were informed we need to break his ribcage open first… right?"
"I was even told it was going to be gruesome to watch."
"Good. We would prefer you to go back to the staging clean room if it is too upsetting for you."
She thought about it, looked up dubiously at the crowded observer's deck, then back down at the man. "I do not believe it is my reaction that will be in need of concern."
"…uh, Nurse Fontana?" Squeaked the Sun nurse as she realized what her sister was saying. "You… may want to warn the observers that there is about to be a highly stressed, and strongest in the world, Lightning up there who knows the patient. He may end up electrocuting anyone that brushes him accidentally. He was throwing off sparks this morning, and he likely hasn't calmed down since."
The Hispanic man abandoned everything and ran for the intercom.
Doctor Chitundu nodded a few times as he checked over his tools the best he could just visually. "A good catch, yes. I would prefer not to outdo Liston."
"…what?"
"The only surgeon with a three-hundred percent mortality rate to a single operation." Fyodor informed Sonya cheerfully. "Known of, anyway. Robert Liston."
"That is… how?"
"Cut off his assistant's fingers while amputating a leg, then accidentally slashed through a spectator's throat. All three died, the assistant and patient from infection and the spectator from shock. Back before anesthesia, it was speed that made a surgeon a good one."
"Yet he had a three hundred percent mortality rate in a single surgery."
The Lightning shrugged that off. "He was fast."
"…if you insist." Sonya responded dubiously.
Tatiana snorted, amused at her reaction and a tiny bit more settled. She already saved a handful of lives, even if that was more accidentally and Verde wouldn't really intend to turn anyone that touched him into a spastically twitching if charred corpse.
Replacing Adrik's damaged lung should be a damn snap in comparison, she'd just be building off from her sister's base start. They did it so many times in the lab already, she knew how to manipulate her Voodoo and that was basically the Sun's only job here.
(ooo000ooo)
(Wednesday the 16th of February, 1972 continued. Recovery Ward, Saint Julian's Hospital, Mafia Land.)
"…I expected you to not… uh…"
"If I had the choice, no. I wouldn't be here."
Noah winced at the flat tone, slumping down on his hospital bed. "So… what's the special occasion?"
Bjǫrn pointedly showed him a small stack of papers in his hands. "This will sever you from the contract on Dama. Since apparently you are that stupid, sign it if you want."
…yeah. He was high on painkillers, sure… not that much to sign paperwork without reading it over first.
"Stupid?" He echoed warily, not reaching for the paperwork even to look over. He was on drugs, the good ones thankfully.
"Do you know why they waited until she's occupied on another task for them? Before giving this wholly new 'in case of undead target' clause, that didn't exist before today, to you?"
"…to give me a running head start?" Suggested the Englishman very dryly.
Three pins holding one leg together, six in the other. Being not a Flame user, several months of no walking or hobbling and physical therapy on top of that before he might run anywhere ever again.
The Nordic 'Lightning-Storm' Lackey sharply kicked a visitor's chair over to his bedside, paging through the papers in his hands before letting it all go up in blindingly red Flames. "The only thing keeping your head on your shoulders is that same woman you just tried to kill. The hit contract Mafia Land is forced to offer if you die on contract for them has not stopped people from offering to kill you for us."
"Bjǫrn, wait-"
"No one cares." Growled out the younger man viciously as his normally blue eyes flickered red. "Therein lies the problem, Ward. The rules only work when people care about not breaking them, for their own reasons or because of the consequences. Here? Mainly the consequences. If the revenge hit wouldn't stop anyone, Dama deciding you were not to die was the only thing keeping this shitstorm in check."
Plastering the heel of his right hand to his forehead, he heaved a tired sigh. "Then why did you all not just let me die?"
"We were trying to respect the rules. Dama killed an on-contract agent, who had been body jacked by Mist to put her in that position. Fair enough, she did deserve the hit by the island's rules of 'no exceptions'." He flicked a wrist at his face as he sat neatly, one leg hooked up on a knee. "You are an unfortunate idiot that took the contract on… if it'd only be a one-for-one trade, I'd pick someone and let you die. That would've died out eventually somewhere down the line. I should have let someone take your life well before this."
"…the current issue now is?"
"We didn't let you die." Bjǫrn answered him with brutally stark honesty and an alarming amount of hatred in his still somehow utterly polite tone, or that might just be his imagination from the still blood red glowing eyes. "Dama deemed it not your fault, and I was tasked with trying to keep you alive somehow. Which let the number of people that know who you are and are fully willing to murder you regardless stack up. To a stupid amount, with entirely too many stupidly forceful personalities. They will drop everything and kill each other to be the one to kill you the moment Dama deems you a lost cause. Contracted for other jobs or not."
Noah winced, warily eyeing the Lackey practically bristling at his bedside with almost visible static electricity too.
"So now we're stuck with you, my very stupid lynchpin to holding back a wildly out of control murder-fest."
"Okay. Not that I want to die… but why not just 'pick someone' quietly right now if you're this pissed with me?"
"Because I told some very powerful assets 'no, thank you' for you, in public. Several times. If I suddenly reverse my answer, it would be very obvious. Mafia Land is heavily bureaucratic, yes… not stupid when it comes to the crimes we broker. I've spent several days on this problem of ours, Ward… trying to find a way out of this mess with a death toll under fifty."
He spent a moment debating if he even wanted to ask. "…and?"
"It would be quite pleasant if you kill yourself."
"Mate, I know you're pissed at me for shooting your boss-"
"My. Aunt." Bjǫrn cut him off, now viciously polite. "In. Front. Of. Me."
…his aunt was a bitch. Rather explained a lot of why the younger man was so fucking pissed with him, not that it helped a damn bit right now. "Right. Uh… mate, you two might share the blond coloring but you look nothing alike."
"Allow me to rephrase that for you, then. The woman that took me in off the streets, Ward. Who couldn't understand a lick of what I was saying to her, had no idea what to do with a street rat from Iceland, and gave up and took me home with her when I wouldn't stop following her around."
"There's no way I come off not looking like the asshole here, is there?"
"No." The younger man informed him bluntly. "I know she's not easy to get along with. She knows she's not easy to deal with. There's quite a lot of things going on this singular week, we're all a little stressed out which does not help. You shot her in the back, through the heart, when I asked you for some help. I do not come out of this without looking like an overly trusting idiot."
Noah roughly rubbed his face in both hands, several times in utter frustration with just about everything. "Bjǫrn, man… I don't even know why I shot her. That seriously wasn't the worst thing she's ever said to me. Fuck, the crap she snipped in my face during that-"
"Shut up, Ward."
He did so, mostly because the Lackey's tone went from hateful politeness to utterly flat and toneless.
"One second." Getting up in a hurry, the younger man bolted from his bedside.
…the fuck was that about?
Bjǫrn tried very hard not to run anywhere. The Englishman picked on him a couple times for budgeting time to walk to places until the Lightning-Storm rolled his eyes at him and explained the 'panic' idiots liked to do if he ever did it.
What the hell made the man run in a hospital?
Sudden gaunt-looking teenager right in his face spooked the shit out of Noah. He would've fallen out of his hospital bed, casts and all, had things suddenly decided to not obey gravity anymore.
"Don't move. I'm no longer quite as precise as I used to be." Advised the teenager blandly, jerkily seizing him by the face with one hand and pulling his head forward and down.
…yeah, kid did not have the muscles to force a hitman's head to move like this. That 'grip' was also not a grip, there was nothing but just skin contact pulling him around.
Light brown eyes bled into a darkly glowing blue and somehow just as forcibly held his eyes despite any attempt to break contact.
"Trotsky, did you-"
"…no, you weren't the one to shoot Miss Bazanova." Decided the brat in a musing tone, interrupting Bjǫrn really fucking cryptically. "How interesting…"
"Pretty sure I was… I think."
"Mist Flames tend to have that effect on those like you." 'Trotsky' informed him dismissively, as if he only just noticed he had Noah's face in his… attached to his hand. "If there is nothing else, Lackey… I'm returning to Rasputin."