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It's someone's wedding. She has 27,386 cousins. They all share the names Anthony, Vincent, and Maria, and Anna. It's probably all very important and political. Some powerful asshole's daughter marrying some rich asshole's son. Or the other way around. Or maybe it's two sons and two daughters. It's a new century! Either way it's a rotating cast of faces in the same overpriced garish designed suits, hands full of rings, necks full of gold.
She checked out of this particular evening before it had barely begun, resting at the bar, perches on a stool like a lily. She doesn't have the posture of someone sitting there to be on display. At least not at the moment. She's just watching the crowd. The help, more than the guests. An olive is bit off a skewer and chewed without real enjoyment. Meh.
Was Vincent a tad in over his head, stealing a waiters clothes to spy on the mob, maybe. Was he overestimating what he could do in the criminal underworld, absolutely. Did he look good in a uniform, even that a caterer, you bet your ass he does. That all being said, he was bored out of his mind, these people really do act like their in a scene of Sopranos, it's all inane small talk, like a family event, then again the mafia didn't get to wear it was by having looselips. . .but they did seem to miss something. Other than that their could be some decent people to feed, thinking on that he see's someone who, well it takes an observer to spot an observer, locking eyes for a second.
To the extent it may be talked, shop is definitely done in circumspect tones. Usually in a blend of languages, and even then in a cant of East Coast Criminal that makes the whole thing very, very obtuse to the uninitiated. But he's about seen through it. This event is about being seen with the right people at the right time, maybe an excuse to tell the wife to stay home for this one, then cut out early and drop in on a mistress. What it is not is the room where it happens.
She's bored, that's clear. Doesn't look away, certainly isn't shy about what she's up to. She finally ticks an eyebrow at him as if to say 'okay, I'll bite' and then lifts her martini to her lips and finishes it off, setting the empty glass down on the little bar. It's not a great reason to come over, but it's the one she's giving him.
He walks over, intrigued and still playing the part. He wears a manufactured smile and gives a polite nod.
"Anything I can do for you miss?" he asks, "Would you care for another drink?" he stands with his hands behind his back, if anything it's the public idea of what someone in the hosting industry is like. Be seen, not heard, ask your patrons for what they wish, that's the whole idea of the thing, right?
"Don't happen to drive Uber as a side hustle, do you?" Her eyes flit towards the dance floor where some of the cousins are bumping and grinding while the aunties circle the dance floor twirling a flower boa. It's horrible. Very very authentic. And horrible.
"If so can I pay you to just drive the fuck over me and kill me?" She reaches for her phone, like she's about to reserve the ride. That is, of course, a joke. But her deadpan never breaks. "Got a name under that suit of yours?"
He offers a sly grin, "Depends," he offers, "You actually want to know or am I the distraction for the evening, if the latter it's anything you want." he chuckles as he looks to the dance floor, "Don't take this the wrong way but this is pathetic. . .I'm pretty sure those two dry humping are related and the rhythm is off," he sighs, "What is it about weddings and shitty dancing." he says shaking his head, "Trust me though, being dead is just as hard as breathing." before shifting back to a smie, "If you do want to be distracted. . .I can think of a few things to pass the time." ok, now it's clear he's not a waiter, you ever meet a waiter that would openly flirt?
She leads with the topic of death. "That can't be true, or else everyone wouldn't do it," Maria once more jokes with a perfect deadpan. Eat your heart out Aubrey Plaza.
"Yeah, weddings are the worst," she agrees dismissively of the wedding and that line of flirting entirely. "And yeah. Generally speaking I like to know who I'm spending the evening with. Call it a professional conceit." She lifts her empty glass and sets it onto his tray.
"I'll let you buy me a drink if you do."
"I can do ya better," he walks off for a bit, fading into the crowd, trading a plate of drinks with another waiter, as he takes it he gives it to another when the the other is out of sight, save for two drinks. He then returns and hands her one, taking a sip of the other.
"Why waste money when you can just take what you want?" he asks, "Name's Vincent, friends call me Vinny." he takes a place behind the bar, trying to look like he's doing something, "So, what's your name, I'm torn between Venus and Aphrodite?"
Okay. She'll allow it. Intrigued, she watches Vincent go about working the floor with a con-woman's eye for the grift and an appreciative little clap once he arrives with their drinks. "Is money ever really wasted if you can just steal more?" She shrugs and ticks her head demurely.
"Torn, huh," she responds with dubious wry. "Maria. Like a third of the rest of the women in here. We're Italian, you had like a one in four shot, and you go with Greek gods?" She narrows her eyes, tsks, and shakes her head in mock disapproval.
"Vincent, huh? Yeah, that scans, Vinny. Vincenzo. Vincenci. Ayyy!" Maria begins talking with her hands. Several men nearby obviously all named or nicknamed some variety of Vincent, all look over at her. For her, this is worth it.
"Please tell me the Aphrodite line wasn't your shot, because you're cute but I have standards."
"No, if anything it's just showing I have class, and Venus is Roman so that should count for something." he shrugs, "And trust me, compared to me every version of Vincent is just a pale copy," he grins, "If I wasn't cute half my schemes wouldn't work, I'm pretty sure I got accepted as a waiter for my looks, as for my shot," he considers, allowing the Seductive Beast of his Aura to shine a tad, "Well, I always found beauty and brains to be the perfect combination, and their's a woman in front of me with both in spades, what to do, what to do," he mockingly asks himself, "I'm not related to you," he adds looking to the dance floor, "I'd think that's a point. . .jeez is this the Alabama outfit?"
"You know what? I can't honestly say if it would horrify them more if I fucked My Cousin Vinnie or this fuckin' Vinny. So that's a compelling argument in your favor." Maria takes another sip from her drink, taking a good look back over the room to take stock of who is still giving her weird looks. Or disapproving ones. Something about the guy worked for her, she had to admit.
"How much were you gonna make tonight, after taxes? Include under the table, too, if you're on the make." She's not judging.
"Depends," he says leaning in for a whisper, "I was planning on selling info but it's a tight lipped crowd," he does take a watch out, "Other than that it's a good fishing hole, I'm pretty sure this Rolex is real." he pockets it again, "And I think I'm working the biggest score of the night." he smiles, a cocky shit eating one, "I just hope I'm cracking the safe decently."
"Were you," she answers with some dubiousness. "You know, you never asked me my last name, Vinnie." She maintains eye contact with the man that says he came here to gather dirt on her family and takes another long sip. The funny thing is, she thinks he's the one playing the dangerous game, here and now.
he looks around, "Ok, your about to tell me your family are hot shots. . .I'm going to sleep with the fishes for admitting that," he says with no real worry in his voice, "Trust me, I'm unkillable, but I'll bite." he thinks, "Mazzone, Ligambi." he askes, "And trust me, I'm not the worse thing in the room, I'm positive I saw a guy fidgeting with a camera button."
"Did you see him bragging about it to Joey Merlino's niece, though, Vinnie?" Maria asks it with a King of Queens style dry, earnest delivery. Like she could just reach over the table and sock him on the side of his goomba head. What's the matta with you.
"Fuck, you're lucky my tits ain't wired. Keep it down. I'm serious." She's good at looking pissed, especially at men, especially at men in money suits. So she sells it pretty convincingly to the audience. But there's a good deal of frank seriousness in her eyes. She genuinely thinks she's doing this kid a favor.
he laughs a bit internally, a week ago this would have scared the shit out of him, now he's got more things to be scared of.
"Hey, I'm just warning ya," he says queitly, acting a bit intimidated, "If I was able to wedding crash imagine who else might be here." he says, before going a bit wide eyed, "Skinny Joey-" he whispers, "Oh shit I hit on a Merlino, I don't want to sleep with the fishes." he whines alittle, not a real whine but still an air of jokeyness, like he's not really concerned for his safety, "Please, how can I make up for my behaivor?"
Now she's sure he's an idiot. "For fucking me? They give you some money, pat your face, say move to Connecticut have a nice life. For fucking the family they just kill you, Vinnie. Okay? They just fucking kill you. What are you doing?"
People are starting to look over, and one or two suits have started walking this way. They have a 'this guy bothering you' vibe to them. "Vinnie," his name is a warning.
"Can I offer you men some whiskey?" he asks taking out a bottle, "Vodka, Shirley Temple's?" as he does so something. . .well something changes.
That seems to be enough to sidetrack them. "Sure." "Don't mind if I do. Thanks." That's it. Given the enticement and the proper avenue, they deflect away from suspicion like rain off a duck's back. They return to their respective positions, drinks in hand.
There's definitely some wordless mathematics being done behind her brown eyes, though she has the good sense not to be catching flies with her mouth. Her silence speaks volumes, though. She's watching him, fiddling with the chain around her throat, swirling her glass. Thinking.
"Everybody loves me," he mutters, "But trust me, I can take care of myself Maria," he comments, "What's on your mind?" he asks seeing the change in demeanor, "Thinking on some grand business plan, it's clear your one of the brains of this group." he nods, "Like I said, brains and beauty, perfect combo, you might run the show one day."
To her credit, she manages to look slightly offended at the implication she doesn't run it already. "Who says I don't now?" A disdaintful toss of the head is shown to the room. "Half of these guys think with their dicks. The other half would if they still worked. Men want power, money, and sex. And if they want sex bad enough, they'll give you as much of the other two as they have to. Men are stupid. Italian men are particularly stupid. Merlino men." She appeals to heaven with her eyes. "They walk away with whiskeys, god bless 'em." She literally can't help now that she's utterly captivated by him, even if she can't quite put her finger on why. But it definitely motivates her question, which sounds a heck of a lot more innocent and just genuinely curious than her intentions would have had it ten minutes ago. "You wanna get out of here, Vinnie?"
he smiles, more warmly, "I was getting tired of this scene." he says walking out and offering an arm, "Before you say anything, just think of the scandal of it." he grins, "Trust me, I can see you shot calling, times are changing and dicks don't make merit anymore." his words are genuine with a tint of admiration, "Would it be wrong to say I honestly see some of myself in you?"
"See that is the line you should have led with, Vinnie. 'Would it be wrong of me to say I see myself in you?' And then I could have said, 'Yes, but the night's young.' But now you missed it. The moment's over and you'll never have that experience. But if we have enough fun tonight, I'll tell the story so you're as funny and charming as I am later." She accepts the arm easily enough, folding up a bill for her tip to the bartender who had nominally been serving her. The funny thing is because of Vincent's discipline use, literally nobody thinks it a scandal. Of course he can walk out with Maria. Probably walking her to her car.
He walks her out, "But it's not a pick up it's true, I see someone with brains who craves respect from those who can't see her worth." he begins, "Let me paint a picture, you sitting in the study, your ring getting kissed by capo's, coming to you to settle territory disputes, a phone call with the senator so you won't leak photo's of him with his mistress to the press. . .or worse yet the wife." he goes on, leading her to a nice secluded spot, actually working for blood was fun, he takes her hand and kisses it, "A nice boy toy to work stress on." he adds, "I can tryout if you wish?" he offers
She's probably heard a few of these sort of come ons from aspirationally rising guys in her uncle's employ. He can see it on her face, of course. But when he says it, she almost believes it. Wants to believe it, in fact. Maybe lets herself believe it. The kiss to her hand almost doesn't register as such, her expression still caught up in her bemused exploration of this guy, his face, and where the hell he even came from.
She can figure it out in this restroom, right here.
Looking left to right to make sure they can get away with it nominally, she grabs his tie and shoves him back through the door to the ladies room. And because it's a women's restroom at a cheesy ballroom in Redbank, there's a couch right back there that they almost collapse onto.
"Auditions open." Why not. Right?
he smiles, kissing her neck, focusing on it and then, a sharp bite, some pleasure. 'This. . .this can be a door,' he thinks as he drinks, 'I was just going to feed but. . .if she's related to the boss and has the ambition to do something about it. . .fuck I think I found a good buisness partner, feed them our blood and their a ghoul right. . ' he thinks to himself, choosing to change her life
All the fumbling she'd been doing at his tie and shirt buttons comes to a screeching halt at the bite to her throat. That's not something she's felt before to put it mildly, and it has the very predictable result that Vincent ought to be rather used to by now. Amid some considerable mewling and grinding, Maria Angelica Merlino's night is starting to look up.
he finds himself moaning before stopping, looking at her face with a shit eating smile saying 'I know what you want and can give it to you', his eyes seem. ..red, they weren't like that before.
"Maria, what if I told you that you can be the boss of the show," he says tracing his finger on her thigh, "I can give you an edge, something the others won't have or see coming. . .I'm in an outfit myself, an outfit that's bigger than your Family and can place you in charge," he leans in and whispers seductively, "All the power and respect you desire, woman or not, you'll be above them, more than them, all you have to do is agree to work for me."
There is a gasp that sounds perhaps a bit agonized as the fangs withdraw from her throat, and a few spasming twitches through her belly and legs, particularly at that finger on the back of her thigh. She's paying a sort of half attention as she kisses at his neck and jaw. She gets it, he's in to fucking near the throne.
"Yeah, okay," she mutters, her hands starting to tug at his shirts again. Using Awe first was definitely the right play, it's all just washing over her like water. "Now shut up." A few buttons go flying with that last tug.
he relents, allowing her to get some stress out, as they give into passion he bites his lips, allowing blood to trickle from his lips as he kisses her, giving her his vitae. 'I fucking love my life' he thinks to himself
There's nothing delicate about it. Maria knows what she wants and how to get it, and goes about it with all the vigor and vitality her living blood gives her. The blood in the mix-- vitae, properly --is like tossing a drug in on top of it all. So to put it mildly, anyone walking by the bathroom towards the end there is going to have no illusions of just what's happening on that couch.
She leans back on his lap, wiping her wrist over her mouth as she fights to catch her breath. The change comes quick, a flush through her skin and a certain flash behind her eyes that suggests she is aware of all the things about which she had been so unaware a moment before.
And when the door bursts open, it's Maria that turns her head over her bare shoulder and says sweetly, "Fuck off."
The first goon offers a little salute, "Sure thing."
Goon number two gives a simple, "You two have fun."
The door closes, and she swings her focus back down to Vincent, licking the back of her wrist clean. Then her head ticks to the side. "Want to see the sort of pad money gets you? Vinnie."
he grins like a kid on Christmas, "Considering I'm in the market, I'd like to see what's the best money can buy," he says snatching a kiss
She takes a few moments to comport herself, fixing her bra back up and lifting the shoulder of her dress back into place. Once she's off his lap, there's adjusting the slip under her dress and smoothing it all back down again. Then she's to the mirror to begin fixing her make up and hair. She's apparently intending to sneak out rather than make an exit. Already she gets the game. She looks at herself, really looks at herself and then makes the very considered decision to add a little more blush to her cheeks to bring the color back. A little mascara, and she rests back on her heels and looks herself over. A little lipstick. Good.
She shoves her things back in her purse, and after a bit of running water a damp towel is tossed at Vinnie's bare stomach. "Get cleaned up. Unless your thing is being cleaned. I want to get out of here."
he washes himself, getting rid of any blood, does she even suspect or think it's just a kink?, who cares at this point, fixing his shirt and buttoning it, along with other things, "You look hot the way your are." he comments, "But I'm sure we can fix that once we get their." he shrugs, "You do realize you drank my blood right, what are you some kind of vampire." he laughs at his joke. Finally looking presentable he looks himself in the mirror, "Lead the way my dear."
"I just--" Maria looks over at him again and it's once more with bemusement. "You really are a goomba, aren't you. You lucked into this, didn't you. Whatever this is." She gestures at him, sitting there roiling in the power of blood while being not much of anything at all before it passed his lips. "You didn't work for it, did you. You feel like you keep getting struck by lightning."
She takes up the towel and begins Italian Momscrubbing his face and neck to clear up her makeup from him. "How the fuck do you think a pasty guy like my uncle Joey rises to the top of the family? Do you think it's fucking lightning, you dumb shit? We feed souls to the Dark One in my family. You're fucking with fire. I don't think I'm a vampire, I'm pretty sure you are. So for like the third time tonight, Vinnie. Will you shut the fuck up."
he blinks, actually shutting up for a second, "Ok," he says after a minute, "Sure, I got where I am through dumb luck," he walks up to her, , "But so far my dumb luck hasn't run out and I'm willing to share it with you, if you don't want it that's fine," he smiles, "But I know you want it, it's a rush ain't, the feeding and the blood."
"Vinny. You fucking idiot." Maria knows a lot, but she doesn't quite know why she already finds herself so smitten with this handsome moron. "You really did get lucky tonight, didn't you." She musses up his hair with a hand, just so she can straighten it again and grip the side of his face in both of her hands. "Yes. It's a little fucking late for that, don't you think?" She knows that much. She's tasted him.
"We're going to go back to my place. Gonna get you sized up for some clothes. Gonna get you washed up. You're gonna tell me all the no doubt hair-brained idiot ideas you've cocked up in that pretty head of yours, and I'm gonna tell you where you're being dumb. Okay? I know shit you don' know about shit you don' know you don' know about. And if you want, I'll be naked the whole time. How 'bout it?" She finishes gripping his face and gives it a little shove away so she can start fixing his tie. "Jesus fucked the mailman, here. Let me."
He laughed, "Is thus what they call rags to riches?" He jokes, "Guess if we're working together I should look presentable, always wanted a nice suit, but I'm sure you do thus for all the pretty boys."
He let's her fix his tie and they head out, "Didn't your folks warn you about taking home strange men?"
"You're not strange. I had you figured out in like six minutes," Maria assures him while taking his arm to walk back out the door again. The guards who came to break up the loud fucking just give them a wave and a chipper, "Happy new year!"
The first thing Vinny is going to learn about just how much his life is changing is that the car the valet pulls up is a fucking Bugatti. She makes a real big show out of being the one to take the keys, walk around, and hold the door open for him on the passenger side.
"Pretty sure I'm the strange one here, Vinnie."
Vincent. . .ok he was wide eyed at the car, "Shit. . .I only thought I would see shit like this in movies," he gets in the seat, "I thought I was supposed to be the sugar daddy, but with blood, not the other way around." He pouts a little
She climbs in the seven figure car's driver's seat and buckles herself in, checking windows and mirrors before turning on the radio and poking play on the Spotify connection. The car's engine rumbles so pleasantly as they pull away, and it's like gliding on air, even over the rough Jersey streets. She's pointing them back towards Philly, and it'll be a bit of a drive yet.
"So what's your real story, Vinnie? That your real name? If we're doing this, we gotta get level. Right?" Whatever she means by level.
"Yes, Vincent is my real name," he assured, "So, imagine if you will, small time runaway and con artist was selling some weed at a college party, this gorgeous blonde walks over says everything to get the buttons pushed, next thing you know I'm an undead freak. . .between you and me, Mafia is one thing but the undead is a conspiracy of silence, ya get me?"
She smacks the heel of her hand against the steering wheel and proceeds to swear again. "I fucking knew it. Fucking lightning. Fuck." But for all her apparent anger she actually reaches over the center console and takes his hand. At least beteen shifts, since it's a manual.
"Yeah, no. I get you. I get you. I figured. Same with my family, you know? I mean. My family family. Not my family family. I'm full of all kinds of secrets that'll get you dead. Proverbial nonspecific you, Vinnie. But also dumb lightning muppet you." She gives a squeeze to his hand and then squeezes his chin in further Italian reassurance. She's here.
"So you're new to this, then? Yeah?" Obviously. "Do you got what you need to feel safe?"
"I'm getting a new place, have an amazing partner that can kick ass, open relationship," he adds, he's alot of things but an cheater is not one, "and I joined a good outfit. . .but to be honest I'm building a foundation, one your apart if now, I'm upgrading from scams to blackmail, and after that. . .I wanna run this city, it fucked me over so now I'll fuck it harder." He says reaching his hand out and grasping the air
"Is the partner gonna be a problem?" Because it isn't for her, clearly, by her reaction to the news. "The partner a guy? Girl? Something else?" No judgment on that score, either, over any of it. "So you're at fuck or be fucked thinking. Okay. We can work with that." She gives a little ruffle to his hair again, grinning more easily now.
"Blackmail isn't a bad racket, but you'll want to run it at several degrees of separation. And wash that fucking money good, because blackmail means pissing people the fuck off, and that comes with targets. And pissing people off with blackmail isn't how you amass influence and power, it's how you exert it. Before you can turn this city over and fuck it, Vinnie, you got to slide a hand up its skirt first. Or it'll bite your dick off."
"Fluid, and they're seeing someone on the side so it shouldn't be," he places a hand on her thigh, "So then, how would you suggest I actually gain power, I'm an info digger at heart but I'm willing to multitask, I'm sure I have an amazing teacher now. " He asks, curious how she figures to go at it
"Your new organization, I assume it's got rungs. There's always fucking rungs, yeah? And you say you're good at information. So that's good, let's lean into that. You gather all that blackmail information and you bank it. You maybe even collect it up and deliver it to one of them up the rung and turn it all over and say, 'Boss, hey. No judgment, but here. I killed this for you. I got the originals. I put the witness in the ground. It's done. I just wanted you to know, and to encourage you to be a little more careful.'"
"And the city gets a little bit wetter for ya, Vinnie."
He smiles, "So, got any idea where to start, local government or lawyers. . .when I'm done Philly will be moaning daddy." He laughs, "Yeah, I already got some dirt for my boss, but seriously, some names would be nice."
"Let's come at this another way. If you could stop anything from happening in Philadelphia, what would it be? A news story? A police dispatch? A building permit? A power connection from PECO? A ballot box from being counted? One thing. One little thing over which Vinnie is king shit. What would it be?" She sets the cruise control and settles in for the straight and narrow towards the Ben Franklin Bridge.
He thinks, trying to think what his niche would be, "I would have to say. . ." He honestly never thought this far, "I want to be able to lift a finger and cops won't touch a thing I'm doing, money needs to flow and the boys in blue need to stay away, the other shit can come later."
"Alright. That one's easy. With cops, there's always a part of the force that's on the take. I think my uncle has a captain on his thumb, and I bet if we ask around we can find out who. Anyways. Even if we don't go that route, there are always cops on the take. And among the cops on the take, there are cops who feel entitled to a little more of a taste than their fellow boys in blue. And that sort of thing is fine until someone finds out about it, and then it was 'an officer was killed today in a shooting in West Philadelphia, there are no suspects at this time'. You find out who is on the take, you find out who is tasting, and you either own the taster, or you sell it to the takers. Now they owe you one. Now they know you're the real deal. Now people put respect on your name. And suddenly when you pick up the phone it's hey, Sal. Remember that one time I sold your snitch to you for a nickel and a smile? You owe me, pay up. And, yeah. The cops won't touch a thing you're doing. It's just money. Spread it around."
She never glances his way save at the and, after which she tosses him a wink. "We'll get you there."
He stares at her dumbfounded, "Don't take this the wrong way but that was the sexeiest explanation of corruption in the system I ever heard." He closes his eyes, "So, if I have mob resources now when do I get a nightclub, ever see blade, vampires are supposed to have sleazy nightclubs, none of the hangouts I've been too have the right mix of sex, booze, and drugs, it's kinda boring, I'm sorry I'm ranting now," he collects himself, "Ok, So if you supply the man power?"
"Oh, suddenly he wants to fuck my brains, too." Maria deliberately downshifts to shove him forward into his seatbelt before dropping the clutch and kicking it back into fifth to throw him back in his seat again. Whump. If he looks her way after, he'll catch her playful grin about it, too.
"Night clubs are a great way to launder money. Cash money goes into ATMs, cash money spends at the bar. It passes through two separate banks by four separate account numbers. It comes with receipts. So, yeah. Do that. Open clubs. Be careful with the sex outside of Atlantic City. And again, handle it through degrees of separation. Sex work is illegal, which is stupid. But don't go down for it."
"I know some people, yeah. I can get you some guys. Yeah, Vinnie."
"So, how does one open a club then, I have to admit I know jack shit but it looks good. . . get into sex work?" He asks, eye raised since she brought it up, "I do agree, when you don't have an abusive pimp it's real work. . .nightclub with a little entertainment on the side then?"
"You're the one who said the clubs around town ain't got the right amount of sex, boobear," she counters back, "I was just taking you at your word again. You gonna make me have to stop doing that?" She sends another glance his way, wry. "Gotta get a lease on a building and a liquor permit. Now here's where you might want to use blackmail. Getting a permit and a license is the work of months. And it's the key to the whole start of it. Right? A place to rub your dick, and a place to wash your money. We gather information on who is on the take, who is tasting. And we go from there. So now that we have a plan and a goal and know where we want to be in a few months, now you go get your blackmail on who our permit application lands with. And if you need me to make some blackmail material for you, I don't mind being watched."
"Shit, now I'm kinda turned on," she laughs. "We're gonna do this, ain't we."
He laughs, "Find some dirt, get the club got it," he blinks and looks at her, "How far do the seats go down?" He asks with a shit eating grin
"Vincenzo, if you think for one second I'm getting your jizz on Italian leather seats, let me disabuse of that notion. We'll be home soon." Once they're over the bridge, traffic slows, but it's not far at all from there until she's pulling into an underground garage at one of the condo towers in center city. Her car has a private locked garage on the sublevel, and there's a private lift for those customers up the tower to the penthouses. Where, of course, she lives.
She keeps not looking at him during the ride up, too, while the elevator music plays Careless Whispers.
As the door opens his eyes widen, "Holy fuck. . .this is the good life I always wanted. .. I should have been an escort or boy toy the moment I hit eighteen. " He muttered
"What makes you think it would have worked back then? I'm guessing you've always been a selfish little hornball. If it was gonna have happened before, Vinnie. It woulda." Bong! The elevator opens onto her floor, and as she steps out into the open concept living room slash dining room slash kitchen and its two floor to ceiling glass walls from end to end it becomes pretty clear the extent to which she is loaded.
She tosses her purse down on the counter and balances on the edge of it to slip out of her heels one at a time. Vinnie gets to feel a little taller.
She then walks over to Vincent, looks up at his eyes for several seconds, and turns around before him to lift up her hair and expose the whole of her slender throat. And also the clasp to her dress and its zipper. "I'm going to grab a shower real quick. Wash the fun off. If you want one, I can grab you some towels."
He unzips her dress, enjoying watching her make her way to the shower, "I can join you if ya want me so clean, I can't reach some places."
"You know what king shits don't do, Vinnie? They don't try lines on women they've already made scream." Maria, in her stockings and garters, wanders off to the bathroom to shut the door behind herself.
It locks.
He shrugs, looking around, "Oh fuck real leather,." He muttered as he sat on the couch, ". . .oh fuck I have side piece. . .that's not bad right, I mean Avy has V. . ." Great, now the crisis of conscious rears its head, "Wonder if Visigny has advice, he's in a throuple?" He talks to himself
It's a nice pad without being ostentatious. Everything here is intentional, and everything here is very high quality. But there aren't really any statement pieces here other than the view. And with a view like that, who needs statement pieces? The taste of this woman stands out. She does things deliberately, even her interior design. Her bed is made and turned down, even. But she may have floor service, so who knows on that score.
When she returns, she's wrapped in a towel with another wrapped around her head. She pads on back over to show her locking the door was playful sport, not actual upset. "If you want to catch a shower, I won't stop you. I should find something to put on anyway." She's probably going to regret this, but she asks it anyway,
"You got any requests?"
He looks like a high-schooler invited to the college party, has he been around sure, has he made love to the person he loves, yes, has he ever been in one of the soft-core HBO scenes like in Rome or GoT, no, "ummm..." He finds himself at a loss for words, he's probably going to regret answering, "you ever watch sailor moon?" Oh yes, he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips , before she thought he was an immature idiot know she knows he is
There are a lot of things that play across Maria's face at that question. But she has been on this idiot for about three hours now to stop being such a try hard and open up and tell her some truth. So what she doesn't do when he shares it is laugh. And then she answers back, just as honestly. "I remember some of it. I didn't really get into it. But I remember it's a cartoon about magical girls in space. And the transformations." She actually takes the poor nerd's hand and gives it a squeeze before petting at his hair a little. "What about it?"
"Nothing," he quickly says forgetting any hopes for cosplay thus evening, "Just a question, Nothing but a smile however would be the perfect outfit," he attempts to recover that fumble, "I can be washed and brought to you if you want, otherwise I'm ready to go." He grins, erasing his comment from his own memory, it never happened
"No, not nothing. What?" She gives him a little shake, "You honestly don't realize the hottest you've been to me all night was twelve seconds ago. And now you've gone and ruined it by bringing your unwashed dick into it. Do you ever listen to yourself, baby?" She smacks his cheek Italian light.
"You want to watch it while we do it? You want me to dress up like one of 'em? You're really into the theme song?" She makes a little prompting gesture as though to remind him her family sacrifices people to demons on occasion. This isn't that weird.
He blushes until his face is red, "Um, you'd look fucking hot in the outfit. . ." He mutters, wondering when the cameras come out, this is one of those prank shows, this is all a trap by Titania right?
"Which one, there's a bunch of them, aren't there?" Maria slips away from him to casually walk over to her phone and pluck it up. She spends a few moments working with her thumbs and pulls up a google images of Sailor Moon characters. It's brought back over and held out to him. "Which one in particular? Sailor Moon herself? Or do you have a secret favorite?" As she puts the phone into his hand, she keeps swiping and sweeping until the 'Shopping' listing is showing.
"King shits. Don't. Use lines. King shits ask for what they want. And people give it or they don't, and that doesn't matter to the king shit. All they're gaining or losing for the giving is your favor. So King Shitenzo. Which one of these am I buying tonight?"
That makes him growl a little, "I want you dressed up like sailor moon and I'm going to rip it off after a good amount of foreplay." He says, trying his most 'ordering' voice, buying the costume of the main character, staring at her with red eyes and his fangs out. . .Count Weebula, truly
Oh. Oh. She didn't get it before now. There's three people in the room, and two of them are Vincent. She doesn't back down or away, but boy does her tone change. Less goading, much more assuring and soothing.
"Then you better order a few and set it up on shop and save." She uses her finger to poke a high end pre-made outfit, selects a range of sizes that will probably fit her near enough, and then selects the maximum number of units the drop down offers. Buy now. Thanks for your order! Your order is on its way.
"Go get a shower now, I think you two need to have a little talk." She takes her phone back, turns it around, and walks off towards her walk in closet.
"You two?" He asks to nobody and heads to the shower, "The hell does she mean you two. . " He mutters cleaning his corpse
Poor guy really is an idiot, isn't he.
While he's taking care of the necessaries, she tosses the towels away and gets to work doing her best. She doesn't have red thigh high boots, but she does have red stockings. The skirt's a bit too long for the costume's daring improprieties, but it is a cute ruffle skirt. She doesn't have a proper sailor blouse, either, but she has white blouses aplenty. And red and blue scarves to stand in around the collar. And she does have opera gloves, which she slips on. And while her hair is both too short and too dark to be Sailor Moon's, she puts her long curls up into pigtails and fluffs her boobs in the mirror. In a way, this is almost better than hitting buy now on Amazon. She put real effort into this. And when he comes back out again, she's sitting on the end of the bed, her legs primly crossed at the knee, resting her palms back on the mattress.
He walks out. ..and stares, forgetting he's a vampire, where he is, his plans for world domination, just stares. . .
"Fucking hell yes. . ." He mutters before leaping
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