marcello the dragon. (tippedscale) wrote in fableless, @ 2016-07-14 01:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! log/thread, anahita abedini, marcello palla |
WHO: Ana & Marcello.
WHAT: Bickering over "friendship bracelets".
WHERE: Marcello's cave house, because apparently he never leaves.
WHEN: 7/6, early evening.
RATING: PG.
STATUS: Complete.
So this was the lair of the dragon. Ana poked her head inside as soon as the door was opened, as if Marcello would change his mind at any second about having invited her over. Though he was a great customer already in that he, much like herself, was fond of shiny and expensive things, it never hurt to know more about one’s target. “How interesting,” she said, and then smiled at him as she reached into her pocket and then dangled what they’d been speaking of in front of his nose. A pretty bracelet, aquamarine and pearls, one half of a matching set, its partner around her own wrist. Though she probably wouldn’t wear it for long: it reminded her of the sea. This one, though, she was pretty sure she could sell to Marcello. If her luck held. In any case, as always, she had a trick up her sleeve. “As lovely as you expected?” Immediately, the entrance of Ana into his home colored Marcello with a shade of regret, and he watched her sharply as he shut the door. Even though he had technically invited her and Ana had only entered after he'd opened the door for her, her presence still felt somehow invasive. He supposed it was because she would know the value and worth of most of the items in his home. It made him nervous to be amongst like-minded individuals in this facet. Still, it would be unwise to steal from a dragon. If she knew he was a dragon, which he was quite sure she didn't. Because Marcello was, above all else, completely discreet, and all his talk of the glory of such magnificently scaled beasts was obviously in the theoretical. “It....” He did not want to give it to her, so he feigned partial disinterest with an exaggerated handwave. “Does not disappoint.” As if that didn't mean she could probably hypnotize him with the damn thing. With all the dealing they had done in the past in mind, Ana raised a brow. That seemed a good sign, coming from Marcello. “It doesn’t, does it?” she said, pulling it back a little bit. “Did I mention I dove for the damn pearls myself?” That would, she reflected, probably work better on someone else; Marcello would likely be more receptive if she’d just shelled out and bought bigger ones than the small ones she’d had inlaid in the piece, regardless of whether or not she’d nearly drowned in the making of it. “And the base is silver.” She’d made a friend in Bahrain. A jeweler. Of course she was going to jump at the occasion. “$700. There’s only one other of these and it’s on my wrist right now.” However enchanted he'd been before, as soon as Ana started speaking, his attention shifted to her words. She was someone that needed to be watched and listened to very closely, or the rug would be pulled out right from beneath you. When the price dripped from her lips, though, pure disgust crossed over Marcello’s gaze and then softened into exasperation. “700?! These are pearls for ants. I will part with 500, no more.” They hadn't even made it into the living room before the haggling commenced. “Fine,” Ana sighed some time later, as if letting go of all her hopes and dreams. “Fine. I’ll make one final offer, March… ello.” Maybe overfamiliar nicknames weren’t the best idea in this particular situation. “Six hundred and five.” How funny that haggling worked this way. All this time, usually just to meet exactly in the middle. You’d think it would be easier to just split the difference at the start, but the journey was so often such fun. Knowing that he would shoot down her offer just as he had shot it down however many other times in the past minutes, she added in the secret ingredient that she’d been hoarding since she got there: “Six hundred and five dollars, and I tell you my Tale.” The level of irritation with Ana was through the roof. They’d gotten to six hundred after a great deal of movement, and still she had to have the final word with the addition of five dollars and -- gossip. No, knowledge. ...Gossip. Marcello squinted at Ana as he mulled over the offer. Really, he’d already agreed to six hundred, but she wanted to push and the debate become whether or not he let her have it, or buckled down. With a heavy sigh, he pressed their location further into the living room, flopping lazily on his sofa and looking at her. He gestured out for her to sit wherever, replying with a frown, “Fine. Six hundred and five. And you tell me who you are.” “Yeah, yeah, that’s what I meant,” she smiled and rolled her eyes. Honestly… knowledge of who her Tale was? Probably worth more than five dollars. And normally Ana wasn’t one to sell for less than something was worth — not at all. But when it came to Marcello there was just something so satisfying about getting the last word in. Could he really blame her? He had always been clear that Ana, in his view, existed to be a constant pain in his ass (and deliverer of shiny baubles). Let it not be said that she could not rise to the challenge. Break one rule and you might as well break them all; Ana, for once, gave the goods without seeing the cash. She walked over to him and in a low voice, as if the walls had ears, or perhaps just to heighten that thrill of telling someone who perhaps she shouldn’t a secret she generally held close and deep inside of her, she whispered a name. Then she stepped away and sat herself comfortably in the armchair across from him, like it was her hundredth time to his house and not her first. “So how are you going to pay?” Marcello was entirely prepared not to believe a word Ana said. While she had never explicitly given him a reason not to trust her (even her lies were more like exaggerations … salesmanship, on a good day. Hocking on a bad), he didn’t trust anyone and it wasn’t like Ana would be the one to change that. So he’d agreed under false hopes that she would be honest with him, but when she actually divulged the name, it was like the missing piece of a puzzle and he… Laughed. A lot. Leaned back further into his sofa and watched as she perched herself across from him. “I see it now.” Briefly, he wondered how he hadn’t seen it before, but really that required a lot more attention from Marcello and she could’ve been any number of tales. The fact that she was Sinbad was just… “It’s fitting.” That was all he said, because he’d rather have scales ripped off his body while still alive than admit that it made her a hell of a lot more interesting. Ana merely smiled in response, doing her best to look like she was barely moved by the comment and not like she’d been restraining herself from leaning in to catch his words. There were few things in life she was more proud of in her Tale, and there were also few things about her that fewer people knew. Somehow she knew, maybe instinctively, that Marcello was trustworthy with this particular secret. (Who would he even tell? Who were his friends, she wondered?) Marcello gathered his thoughts and then moved to stand. “I will pay cash --” A neighborhood mystery, perhaps, as to how he got the funds to half support the sanctuary on his own and support the occasional addition to his lair. The answer, of course, was family. Relatives had money so he had money. He didn’t ask how, and they never told. A moment of hesitation struck him as he started to walk out of the living room. The money was in his room, but Ana was out here. He didn’t trust Ana in any place in his house alone, but he didn’t want to take her to his room, either. Decisions, decisions. “Come with me,” he finally chose. Immediately, she stood to follow him. “Don’t mind if I do.” |