Joseph Tropiano (luckandchance) wrote in low_tide, @ 2010-01-09 23:05:00 |
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Current mood: | indifferent |
Entry tags: | grace hutchinson, joseph tropiano |
Good Kat, Bad Dog
Francesco's was a dark-panelled hole in the wall with green carpeting and brass fixtures on everything. It was exactly like being inside a barrel, as if all the light got absorbed like water into a sponge. It was one of the few places on the island Grace found tolerable.
She'd been in Key West for sixteen hours. She'd spent the daylight hours on the phone, where she'd gotten confirmation on the description of the man she was looking for, along with a message that said man wasn't hiding anywhere. It never failed to boggle her mind how invincible humans thought they were. The vampire was ensconced at a back table drinking bourbon, her back carefully situated so there'd be no chance of an ambush. Tropiano didn't know who she was - yet - but a little paranoia kept you healthy.
One warning. That was her current objective. After that? She'd have to go to work.
It was new year’s, was he really expected to stay in his four walled hotel room and not celebrate? Especially when there was so much to celebrate. Lots had changed since last year and Joseph was looking forward to a much better year, one not spent in the hospital, in cuffs, on the other end of a gun, better weather and other such things. Some he knew could happen, others, not so much.
Joseph was still nursing a couple of cuts and bruises from the other night, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at him, not when he moved as well as he did.
He might be celebrating, but Joseph never went anywhere without his guns, a knife and that stake that Rhiannon had given him, figuring it couldn’t hurt to be a little more cautious than normal. Least this way if he ever got jumped when he was out, he had a way of defending himself other than using his fists. He’d done that on more than one occasion.
Joseph was dressed for celebration: low riding jeans that did sinful things to hipbones - a well fitted dark shirt that complimented skin tone and intricate designs of ink that stretched across what seemed like a limitless expanse of skin - and various forms of jewellery that was totally him, all silver and natural, perfectly chosen.
He’d just finished a cigarette by the time he entered the den of Francesco’s, lingering smoke announcing his presence within the darkened crowds. Joseph passed a gaze over a nearby brunette, flashing her a feral grin that had her blushing. He turned away, chuckling quietly to himself, sliding onto a bar stool a few moments later.
“Can I get a whiskey?” He asked.
Grace was dressed down for the evening, way down in cargo pants and a T shirt, but the manager was connected to the Miami syndicate and therefore didn't even protest her scuffed motorcycle boots. One thing about this kind of work, no one was going to hassle you about the dress code. She was working on her fourth drink and pondering ordering a steak. It wouldn't taste like much, but she liked a rare, still-bloody slab of cow meat now and then.
She had just signalled the waitress when she spotted the newcomer at the bar, and she went ahead and placed an order when the server arrived. The girl was wearing a string tie, the narrow strips of it bisecting her tuxedo shirt as neatly as an autopsy scar. Grace lit a smoke, asked for an ashtray. An ashtray and a second tumbler. When the second glass was delivered, she poured it full of bourbon and handed it off to the member of the wait staff, pointing a finger in the direction of the well-polished counter.
"For him." Long-haired motherfuck. She wished she could meet whoever it was that started convincing guys pony-tails would look good, just so she could slap the hell out of them. "On me."
Joseph had settled on the stool comfortably enough, engaging the tender in an easy conversation, one that didn’t mean anything at all, but certainly passed the time.
He’d managed to clock a couple faces in the crowd, some because he thought they were attractive and others because they seemed out of place in the current surroundings. The woman sat by herself in the dark corner had not escaped his notice, features and clothing had, but not her location.
Something to be said for knowing where every player was at any given time.
His conversation with the tender was only interrupted by the delivery of a drink - a bourbon drink to be more exact - apparently sent over by the same woman he’d spotted in the dark corner. Joseph accepted it and turned his head, catching sight of her features with sharp eyes, lifting his glass in a gesture of thanks before taking a sip from it.
Grace stared back, raising her own glass in a salute, and the heels of her boots dug into the thick carpet as though she might go ahead and sprint straight at him despite the public venue. Target acquired. If he was smart, he would ask the bartender who she was, and she'd been sitting there by herself for nearly an hour before ordering food. But she didn't know if he was smart yet.
She unrolled her napkin, and silverware clattered to the table. Restaurants always had such crap knives. Good thing she always brought her own. The vampire tucked the napkin down the front of her shirt, forming a half-assed bib. She could at least pretend to be civilized while she ate.
Joseph rested the newly bought drink on the counter and took another look at the woman, turning away when he caught the tender’s attention. “Hey,” he surreptitiously gestured in the direction of the blonde now tucking into a steak. “You know anything about her?”
The tender looked at the blonde and returned his attention to Joseph. “All I know is that she’s been sat there for the last hour without doing much of anything.”
“She come here often?”
The tender shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ve never seen her before.”
Joseph took in all that information and said his thanks, tonguing at the back of his teeth as he considered the situation. Could be nothing, could be something, hard to tell. He rummaged out his smokes and decided to play it cool.
The steak was cooked decently, even if it was as bland as she'd expected, and Grace cut away several big chunks to leave them sitting in the pinkish liquid that had puddled on the plate. At least they didn't bitch about cooking it rare like so many other places did. Like she was worried about food poisoning. She ate a quarter of it, finished off another glass of bourbon. She watched the man at the bar light a cigarette, put out her own smoke in the ashtray. There was about thirty feet of space between them; Francesco's was a fair-sized place.
She got up from the table, crossed the floor to get to the women's room. It was empty, and she washed her hands at the sink and made faces at the blank mirror, then checked her watch. Seven-thirty. Time to get a closer look.
"You got a light for me?" She'd taken up the seat next to Mr. Ponytail, pulling out a fresh cigarette. "I left my lighter back there."
Up close and personal was the only way he was going to draw a conclusion about the blonde and Joseph had just been about to make his move when she turned up beside him, enabling him to finally get a proper look at her. Maybe just maybe he was looking for something that might give away about who she was, what she did and what she was doing in this bar of all places.
Suspicious, completely. It was after all the only way to live his life.
“That wasn’t very smart,” Joseph remarked with a slanted smile. “Light fingers in this place, you might want to watch that.” Nevertheless he pulled out a lighter and flipped open the zippo, presenting and even going so far as to shadow the flame with his hand for her.
Grace dragged hard on the filter of the cigarette to get it going, exhaled smoke through both nostrils before slouching back against the bar. She put him at around thirty, maybe younger. "Sometimes you need to keep your hands free."
There was no mirror behind the rows of bottles lined up to be poured from, and the lack of reflective glass kept her secret safe. The silence dragged out for a few beats. The bartender came over, asked if she wanted anything. She responded with a curt headshake, and he went away again. One corner of her mouth lifted as she blew more smoke to the side.
"I know you."
Joseph took a sip of his drink and glanced at the blonde. “Do you?” He wet his lower lip and rubbed his thumb along it a moment later. “Guess that puts me at a disadvantage as I know nothing about you.” With her so close he could take the time to look at her, really look at her, wondering if she was always so pale.
The fact that she knew him had him on edge as nobody in this city knew him, not unless he’d made himself known to them.
And that was the point, to have him at a disadvantage. To have him at one and keep him at it. Grace shrugged one shoulder, a twitchy movement as her shirt sleeve wrinkled and then smoothed out again. "We have mutual acquaintances," she elaborated, snagging the nearest ashtray with one finger to pull it closer. She tapped spent ash onto the clean surface of it, watched the overhead light glint off of her watchband.
"You've been a bad, bad boy, Jojo. Our mutual acquaintances are unhappy."
Joseph merely lifted an eyebrow, showing no outward reaction to the fact that he’d had somebody set upon him like a guard dog. “Is that right?” He asked, tilting his head to regard her again. “I guess if they’re going to such lengths then what I’m doing is working.” Joseph paused for thought and took a drag from his cigarette. “Good to know. I was beginning to worry that I wasn’t ruffling enough feathers.”
Threats were a dime a dozen in Joseph’s world as was the possibility for retaliation, it was expected and had stopped scaring him a very long time ago.
“And you’re the muscle sent to tell me to stop or you’re going to do something like kill me, right?” And now he looked at her again, wondering what her skills were if she was who his enemies called in to do their dirty work.
"Oh, somethin' like," the vampire said comfortably, and she arranged herself on the barstool she occupied so that she was perched there like a squat bird of prey. "It was left to my discretion as to how I wanted to do this, and truthfully I could drag you out of here right now and nobody could stop me. But haste makes waste, so why rush it? I prefer to start small. Gradual escalation is...it's good practice."
She nodded, punctuating her statement, then gave Tropiano a strangely sunny smile. "You've ruffled a whole bunch of feathers. Now I'm gonna start ruffling yours."
Joseph imagined that there was a range of emotion he should be feeling right now, one of which was fear, but he lacked that particular emotion. Easily revealed by the continued steady beating of his strong human heart. It wasn’t like you delved into this world without repercussions or consequences, some more severe than others, and this wasn’t the first person to be set on him like pit-bull.
He picked up his drink again. “Let me ask you something.” Joseph tilted his head and regarded the woman from beneath his lashes. “Do you work for my would be competition out of loyalty or for the money? If I know our mutual acquaintances as well as I think I do I would imagine that they use your services a lot, pay you handsomely, but if you’re a smart woman you’d work for the highest bidder.”
He angled his head slightly, meaning he could look right at her. “Given how you’ve played this so far I would say you’re smarter than the average muscle.”
She bared her teeth at him, allowing smoke to escape from her mouth as she did so. "You tryin' to buy me, Jojo?" she asked with something like humor. "I think that's the first time somebody's offered me money before I get started. Usually it's afterwards, once I fuck up a few things for them. You must be a quick study."
She poked at him, one finger nudging at his ribs, and this one was going to be fun. The smart ones always were, because they tried to either outrun it or work around it. It was hilarious to watch them scramble.
"Tell you what," she said, hauling her weight off of the stool she'd been occupying. "We'll try it my way for a while, and then we'll see what happens. And you should probably take notes, you might learn somethin'."
Joseph snorted and shook his head, finding arrogance in a woman really off-putting, even in the ones sent to try and rip him apart without so much as dinner. “Whatever you say.” He picked up his drink and finished it off, Adam’s apple working hard.
He eased his previously forgotten about cigarette between his lips. “Guess you’re not as smart as I gave you credit for. My mistake.”
Joseph turned to regard her. “So, what’s your way exactly?” They did say that curiosity killed the cat after all.
"That would be tellin'." He didn't like her, but none of these goombahs did, so Grace was fine with that. "I've done you a favor already lettin' you know what's what, we don't want to spoil the whole surprise.' she glanced back toward her table, where her steak was probably cold by now. To hell with it, though, she'd get something really filling once she was out of this joint.
"I have to motor pretty soon, but I'll be in touch, okay?" She put her cigarette out in the ashtray, gave Tropiano a little salute, and sauntered off back towards her table to finish her drink and pay for her meal. He was smart, she had to give him that. She might just turn out to be smarter, though. Not to mention meaner.
[OOC: Grace's cameo appearance was of course written by Gazer]