au meme } running from the law | blythe

[piqued]

from here.

She isn’t His Consigliere. He isn’t her Soldier. But when it’s time to run, it’s Time to Run, and it doesn’t always get to be Clean and Simple as would be Convenient.

There will be time to sort themselves out properly. Until then, well, at least the di Spade and the Coppe families are more Allied than not these days. It means driving just a Hair above the speed limit down a dark country road with her in his car isn’t a Problem.

Just not the Most Convenient.

“I’m sure we’ll be there soon, Miss.”

Somewhere Safe. Relatively, at any rate.

Comments

[somuchheart]

Her heels have been taken off and thrown in the back seat. The paranoid glances out the window aren't really meant to be noticed, which is why she turns forward firmly when he speaks.

"Where are you taking me?" she asks, nervous fingers going to her hair to let it down from a complicated updo.

[piqued]

"Somewhere safe, Miss." His own eyes stay on the road, chin tilting slightly upward. "I've not blindfolded you."

Against his own Better Judgement, really. More or less at the Sharp Demand of his own Consigliere as he had shoved this woman into Declán's car.

[somuchheart]

She's fiddling. She can feel herself turning her hairclip over itself in her fingers. With some effort, she stops herself, then reaches for her purse. In goes the clip, out come the cigarettes.

It takes a drag for her to feel calm again. "How long will I stay with you?"

[piqued]

Cigarettes are a good move. Even from the side of his attention, they catch him as a Good Idea. The taste in the air between them is already Better than simple tension.

"Until things have cooled down, I expect." His head cants slightly, unconsciously, to the side in consideration. "Or until someone sends orders to the contrary."

[somuchheart]

Her nose wrinkles at that, and she looks back out the window. "Dull," she murmurs before pursing her lips, crossing her legs in her seat. "How long did you say it would take?"

[piqued]

The arch of his brow is silent. Surely, to rise to where she'd gotten, she'd spent a few years as a Soldier, doing Exactly This Dull Work. But, well. It's hardly his place to have Opinions.

"Another... ten minutes, I should think."

[somuchheart]

She doesn't reply to that, stays near silent for the rest of the ride. It's only when they've reached their destination that talks, emerging from the car after him and slipping into her heels again. "You'll get clothes for me. And prepare a room." It's not a question.

[piqued]

"Ma certo, donna."

She sounds, at least, like that capo he's used to Serving under in normal circumstances. That gets his spine Straightening properly again, a spring in his step to get to the safe house's door open before she made it around the car.

"If you'll give me a moment to be certain the accommodations are up to par."


{*But of course,}

[somuchheart]

She nods as she moves into the house, staying in the entryway as he goes off to check the rooms. For the few moments that she's alone, she can curl in on herself, let her shoulders and mind crumple with the worry that she's been clamping down ever since she got in his car.

Of course, the feelings will be forced under a tight lid as soon as he comes back, though he might catch her straightening, fingers trembling as she takes another drag. "Everything's alright?"

[piqued]

Julien wouldn't be trembling. It makes him hesitate half a step, wonder what Exactly one does with a woman holding things together like this.

"...quite, Miss."

So he does what he would do with Julien. He reaches for her cigarette to flick away, pulls out his own pack to offer her a fresh one. It's a Small thing, perhaps, but it's an act of Care. Of Normalcy between people of their respective ranks.

"Whenever you're ready to rest, Miss, I'll see to your clothes."

[somuchheart]

With the last Boss poisoned and the new one just getting acclimated to the job, it's up to the Consigliere to keep things running smoothly. As always.

Her eyebrows shoot up when he offers her his pack. She slowly takes out a cigarette, twirling it between her fingers to feel the weight before lighting it. It smells normal. Feels normal. Brings the familiar taste to the back of her throat, nothing more than the usual calm to her mind.

"I'm starving," she says quietly. "I'd like... some food, first. Before I change."

[piqued]

The Arrangement of being together won't be Forever. The heat will ease up and they'll go back to their separate Realms. But for now?

It's good she takes the Cigarette. Trusts it enough to take the first Drag. It's the beginning of the Trust they're going to need until they can come out the other side of this.

"Shall I show you the kitchen or make it myself, Miss?"

[somuchheart]

"I'll make it myself," Blythe decides authoritatively. At least. She'll surely be able to throw something together. Waiting for his guidance, she follows him to wherever he leads her - though a question does strike her on the way.

"... what should I call you? Unless- you'd prefer Sir?"

[piqued]

There's a minute relaxing of his shoulders at stepping into a kitchen. Kitchens, at least, are always familiar in their rings. Always smell the same. Tomato, flour, just an underlying taste of peroxide. Wonderful.

"Everyone calls me 'Chives,' Miss."

[somuchheart]

"Chives," she murmurs, nodding. "Where's the bread?"

Because she can do a sandwich. Or, well. Putting spread on bread. That counts, right?

He's probably going to cringe.

[piqued]

Bread is gotten quickly. So, after half a second, are the tomatoes and the lettuce, the onions and the sliced meats.

Because really.

She said she was hungry. She ought to make an Actual Sandwich.

[somuchheart]

But then she'll have to use a knife. And while she can stab people, she's useless when it comes to slicing.

"... I'm fine, Chives."

[piqued]

He's fairly well Trained to accept what those above him say. And yet.

"...that can't be enough, Miss."

[somuchheart]

She huffs, but there's the slightest bit of amusement in her breath. "I can't do more than this in a kitchen, and I'm sorry, but I cannot allow a stranger to prepare a meal for me. You understand."

[piqued]

"...I can't cut tomatoes for you, Miss?"

That.

That's going to make their time together Tricky.

[somuchheart]

"My previous boss was poisoned. You must understand my... heightened concern."

She hesitates, then lets her shoulders slump. "Although I suppose-- one tomato can't hurt."

[piqued]

The knife is in his hand faster than would make a person feel quite safe. If he chops more than one tomato, if an onion and the head of lettuce follow, well, he's making Himself a sandwich as well.

"If it's any cold comfort, Miss, that's far from our style."

The di Spade were much, much better known for stabbing people from the front.

[somuchheart]

She snorts, her voice sharp and dry. "I know that. It's far from our style too, and yet the attack came from within."

[piqued]

"And that is certainly a shame, Miss. It only seems less than economical to have brought you here to poison your sandwich."

The Panic would have been a perfect time to blame the police for any of their usual, Overt sort of murders.

[somuchheart]

She hesitates for a final moment before relenting and tearing into her own sandwich with gusto. After she swallows, she manages to say, "no meat, please, and extra tomatoes."