A 1x1 between Shattered and Quad

The setting is an alternate New York City in 1920 where the mafia and other forms of organized crime are run by packs of werewolves, vampires haunt overflowing mortuaries and hospitals like addicts seeking their next fix, and being a spiritualist is considered a valid source of employment. Prohibition is ramping up, and people are making the best of it. My character is the adopted child of an influential werewolf crime boss known for their brutal tactics and the monstrous beasts at their disposal. They're considered bottom-mid tier in the powerful organization's hierarchy - of a higher position than the peons, but low for someone so close to the boss. When it comes to jobs or duties, they're used to getting the scraps and whatever's leftover - which they've always seemingly taken in stride. One day, however, they decide that the only way forward is to split away and develop their own less than legal business, but they won't do it alone. They enlist the help of your character, a childhood friend who's also grown up in the organization.

The two begin to get a foothold in the area, making deals and quietly setting up partnerships to get them started. Before the two are able to sever ties with their home organization and slip away, word of their activities gets out and they are confronted in a combination of violent interrogation and reprimanding. In a moment of desperation, your character shifts and goes full beast mode, allowing the two to escape by the skin of their teeth. With their former crime family out for blood and furious at the betrayal, they must decide whether to stick around and continue their illegal business ventures while lying low, or to skip town and try to set up shop elsewhere.

Characters:
Lucian "the Dentist" Sawyer - Shattered
Alonzo "Lonnie" Salucci - Quad

The Family Salucci
is run by the brothers Vico and Salvatore Salucci. The Family is based out of the Manhattan neighborhood, but controls most of the NYC territory, though they have met with some competition that's sprung up in the surrounding buroughs. They specialize in bootlegging, importing black market goods, and gambling.

Name: Alonzo "Lonnie" Salucci
Age: 24
Gender: Male

Appearance: Alonzo stands about 5'9" with narrow shoulders and an about average build, leaning towards slender. He has a round, boyish face, falling somewhere between youth and a strange sort of maturity, like someone who's been forced to grow up too quickly under intense conditions. His eyes are a keen hazel in color, almond-shaped, and pressed with faint purple shadows of exhaustion like permanent bruises. Beyond the pale shade of sleep, there's a strange hardness to his expression.

He's mixed with a light-skinned, olive brown complexion, bearing darker scars here and there at various spots. They are mostly the run of the mill sort of injuries one might obtain over the course of 20+ years, or so he says. There are a few obvious exceptions, such as those scars that suspiciously resemble the vicious tear of a bullet through flesh. It's not exactly a secret that he came back from the trenches with a handful of physical wounds.

On any given day, he looks extremely put together. He does not so much as step outside of his house without dressing appropriately for a man of means: three piece suit, hat, the whole ensemble. His hair is dark brown and very thick, with a rebellious sort of twisted curl that requires more time to tame than he'd care to admit. It's short and neatly trimmed, with a purposeful part to it that allows it to flop loosely to the left. While he doesn't grow facial hair so quickly that he can sprout a beard overnight he is nevertheless, always clean shaven, and quite meticulous in his general grooming practices. There's an almost-but-not-quite grace to his movements, like the cautious step of a beaten tomcat.

Personality: He's a little damaged but hey, aren't we all. The Great War left its mark, as it did on everyone in ways big and small.

As a youngster, he had a reputation of being something of a spitfire, picking fights and getting into trouble for his mouth. He grew up poor and he grew up mean and filthy from spending his school days scrapping in alleys. The world was out to get him and so he figured he ought to get it first. Once he was picked up by the Salucci family at about age nine, his prickly, defiant nature softened, but only slightly. Growing up as a human among a pack of werewolves only seemed to whet his appetite for roughhousing. His favorite question was "why", and he would demand to know all the in's and out's of the family business. It was sort of cute up to a certain point, but this didn't prevent him from getting his ass kicked plenty of times by others both inside the family and out. Since his teenage years he seems to have mellowed out a great deal. The popular ongoing theory involves his time overseas. It's not entirely misplaced.

Nowadays, Alonzo is regarded as a quiet young man. He's a hard worker, dedicated to the family, and loyal to a fault - sometimes surpassing even those of the family blood. He doesn't even question decisions any more, indifferently accepting whatever he's told and carrying it out. Due to his blind obedience and devotion, he's quickly become a valuable asset to the family.

Other:
- He doesn't have the famous wolf side of his adopted family, which has always been and continues to be a sore spot for him (though he does his best to hide his feelings on the matter).
- his origin story is messy, but not overly complicated. He's supposedly the biological nephew of the top boss, via a messy fly by night relationship that lasted all of one happy week in Atlantic City. Nine years later on another fateful business trip to the seaside town, the brothers Salucci found themselves accosted by a woman dragging along a dirty kid, half feral and with a mouthful of obscenities. His biological father, Vico wanted nothing to do with the illegitimate child, but his uncle, Salvatore was more willing to take on the responsibility. Eventually, he wound up in New York City, having lost a mother, but having gained an entire family of monstrous wolves. There was some death, some unexpected surprises, and a lot of fistfights as he picked his way through the ranks.
- and then the war hit, he got the urge to prove himself, do his duty, a healthy dose of ptsd and patriotism, and all that other that good stuff.

Name: Lucian “The Dentist” Sawyer

Nicknames: Jigsaw , Luc

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Species: Werewolf

Appearance

Human: It’s rather bluntly obvious that Lucian is not related to the family. He’s got platinum blond hair, in a low fade undercut but its clear he hasn’t gotten it trimmed in a while, as it’s a bit outgrown but he doesn’t seem to care. His eyes are an eternally pissed shade of blue, and as he is more often annoyed then not, his eyes are typically narrowed giving them the appearance of being far darker than they actually are. Lucian’s complexion is tan, and it’s evident he’s spent a lot of time outside. He’s fairly tall, around 6’2” on a good day with a muscular physique to match, which pairs well for his job. Given his bloodline, while he does cut an imposing figure, he is far stronger than he appears to be, which is saying a lot.

His clothing style is horribly bland, but Luc has never been one to dress up. He dons all black, even when temperatures soar to high 90’s outside and despite the fact that he’s warmblooded. He wears a black button-up, with the top three buttons undone to reveal a rather snug gold chain. Matched with a black belt and black trousers, the gold accent is the only hint of dimension to his outfit. Even his shoes are black. Quite honestly he never really seems to care about his appearance, much to the chagrin of the Family. Regardless, he’s conventionally attractive with a sharp square jaw, a slightly crooked nose that just been broken one too many times, and a moody look on his face. You wouldn’t necessarily think he’s a werewolf just by looking at him, he doesn’t even have facial hair besides the odd five o’clock shadow, but his canine teeth are prominent when he grins.

Wolf: Nothing out of the ordinary. A pretty basic, cut and dried rendition of a Timber Wolf, quite honestly looks like any other wolf you’d see around despite the same agitated blue eyes. Perhaps a bit larger than an average wolf, but nothing alarming.

Behemoth: Certainty earned the name for a reason. A rare bloodline trait, the Behemoth form is one made of nightmares. It allows the possessor to freeze transfiguration partially between man and beast, though with the dial queued in favor of beast. Truly looks to be a blend of human and wolf. This form is even larger than his human one, the tips of his ears when on two legs marking an impressive 6’8”. Despite being covered in thick, coarse fur the same hue of night, it’s obvious this monster is rippled with muscle and a nigh indestructible bone structure. Despite being capable of standing on two legs, which they usually do, in this transformation Lucian lacks communication skills, much like that of his wolf. He can understand, but not repeat or relay. Similarly, while his hands bear elongated fingers and claws, it is difficult to grab. That being said, it’s quite easy to disembowel and destroy, as well as run and jump. It takes a huge amount of energy and concentration to not only activate or achieve this form, and for good reason, but it is certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Personality

Despite the intimidating look on his face and presence he bears, Lucian is rather docile. To Family members, that is. To outsiders and opponents he is a cruel, unforgiving man. His loyalty is crystal clear, and he follows orders to a T. Maiming or murdering on behalf of the Salucci’s is no issue for Luc.

To those in the circle of kinship, the blond is quite relaxed. He’s not afraid to roughhouse, in fact he frequently does, but he’s gentle enough to where he’s been trusted to watch the small children of influential family members, much to his stifled annoyance as he isn’t particularly fond of nor patient enough for children. Even so, he seems to be very comfortable in the midst of the mafia, and his dedication and obedience were constantly rewarded.

The young man, even with his ever present scowl, does boast a decent sense of humor and is rather easy to be around. He doesn’t seem to harbor grudges; if he does, he hides it very well to the point where any resentment does not get in the way of business. He knows what needs to be done, and understands the nature of organized crime. He’s not afraid to break the law, and has no qualms about getting his hands dirty to do what is asked of him. Lucian may not dress as professional as desired, but his demeanor is nothing sort of severe professionalism.

History

Lucian was actually not born into a mafia family, surprisingly. Rather, his family, while not remarkably renowned, worked in close quarters with the various mob groups around the city, offering support to Families of their choosing via weapons and, come Prohibition, alcohol. However, under the table, their main means of shifting the balance was by loaning out various family members to serve as Enforcers for special Families. In the Sawyer family tree, certain individuals are born with a bloodline gene allowing said individual to achieve a far more gruesome and monstrous form, capable of indescribable acts of savagery.iciness possesses said gene, which made him particularly valuable. As soon as he was able to master the rightly named “Behemoth” visage, he was loaned out to the Salucci family despite his young age of 10. He bonded rather quickly with the members, a sense of kinship formed which enabled him to return to the family after his service in the Great War. He bonded particularly well with the adopted son of one of the bosses, the two becoming near inseparable friends before their respective deployments.

In The Great War, he served overseas in Western Europe from the start to the end of the United States involvement, though it’s clear his memories are not fond as he does not like to talk about his service. His scars are not only physical, and trust me, he’s got a lot, but mental as well. He was shell-shocked for a while following his return home, but seemed to even out as he got into a routine.

Other

You may be wondering- what kind of name is ‘The Dentist?’ Not very scary right? Well, Luc earned that title for his tendency to pull teeth right from the gums of his victims; with his bare hands. Not the sort of Dentist you’d want to schedule an appointment with, that’s for sure.

Some people tend to call Lucian ‘Luci’, though fools like that typically don’t last long.

It would be a miracle that the sky had not opened up in a snowstorm if there hadn’t been residue mounds of firn lining the streets and sidewalks from the latest bought of a blizzard. Even so, there had been the occasional snowflake here and there, graceful in its descent from the heavens before it was swept up in the cruel winds. The air was bitterly cold, and you’d be lucky to feel your toes after 5 minutes outside. That being said, it wasn’t as if Lucian was dressed appropriately for the harsh conditions of late winter. Late winter in New York. Frankly, he hardly ever seemed to be wearing the appropriate attire for the seasons.

The only cost he wore was a remarkably thin trench coat, and even though the black material looked to be rather well-insulated; it wasn’t. It certainly did not help that despite the collar being pulled high around the tall man’s face, the top buttons had been as equally undone as his undershirt, and the coattails of the trench coat fluttered in the howling winds. That was it. No gloves, no hate, nothing. You’d think the blond was homeless were it not for the blatantly obvious expensive manner about the clothing. Even though Lucian’s fingers should’ve been numb beyond all reason, black and blue with onset hypothermia, his hands were rather quite warm tucked into the pockets of his coat. His eyes may have been squinted against the nipping air, but his demeanor was relaxed, posture straight with no telltale signs of shivering or even hunkering in on himself. The man clad in black seemed to be perfectly content, at ease even. And for the most part, he was. The werewolves’ body temperature ran so high, that the freezing climate around him felt rather nice. Far preferred over the brutal heat come summer.

What he wasn’t quite pleased about, however, was his current circumstance.

That may be a stretch. Truthfully, he was rather neutral about the situation. He had been hunkered down in West Queens, diligently waiting for a shipment of supplies that had been delayed for the third day in a row. It was beyond Lucian why he had been elected to perform the duty, in Queens no less; after all, he was no messenger boy. He had far better things to do with his time than sit around twiddling his thumbs all day, waiting for deliveries. But being the good soldier he was, he complied. Not that he was happy about it, and certainly not without complaints, but he had shown up to the warehouse, hadn’t he? The whole ordeal hadn’t even been for the Saluccis, not really. A favor to a friend with a favor that was owed to the Saluccis. So Lucian had sucked up his disdain for the largest borough and went.

His duty had been simple enough, wait around like a useless sack until the supplies had been delivered to the warehouse, and then confirm the shipment. Or something along those lines- he was too busy glaring to really pay much attention. It hadn’t mattered though, because he was on the end of his second day and there had still yet to be an update as to whether or not the shipment truck was coming. The score was five days delayed now, and Lucian was righteously pissed. Angry enough to be stewing mad, but not quite enough to do anything about it. It was while he was waiting that he got the telegram. He would’ve been surprised that it had been set to the dock of the warehouse, but then again it’s not like his plans and orders were anything of a mystery. Especially not to who has sent the telegram.

That’s what surprised him more. It had come under a fake name. As to not arouse suspicion, naturally, and had even been addressed to an even faker alias, but both had been all too familiar to the blond. To say he hadn’t been expecting the message from Alonzo would be a bald-faced lie. Not that the two of them weren’t close enough to be sending messages. They were close, had been far closer a handful of years back, and while they had rather drifted apart following their respective deployments, the terms between the two had always remained cordial. Which was why Lucian frowned upon reading the gram. It was anything but cordial frankly, more on the side of frantic than polite. The request had been for a meeting at a speakeasy, completely in a different borough for the next day. It would be an absolute pain to get there, but it wasn’t as if Lucian would be a no-show. If Alonzo had something so important it couldn’t wait until Lucian returned to home base, the werewolf was dying to hear it. It was only luck that the shipment of deliveries had arrived late that night, as the man would’ve been all too content to simply cut his losses and bail.

He had left in the early hours of dawn, with the sun just starting to color the dark sky. It had taken a painful combination of trolleys and good old-fashioned walking, but as expected Lucian had made it to the speakeasy. And in a rather quick fashion if he may add. Too quick, it seemed, for when the werewolf had entered the establishment he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the kid. The young man had always been easy to find in a crowd- even if Lucian didn’t have preternatural senses. The brunette always wore a three-peice ensemble, and had a scrappy yet dignified demeanor about him. The realization had drawn good-matured scoff from the blond, followed by a shake of his head, before he’d helped himself to a table all but crammed in what was likely the darkest corner of the establishment, far from prying eyes. Lucian figured Alonzo would appreciate the gesture, even if the man had helped himself to the chair against the wall as to keep his eyes on the door, and leave no room for a possibility of being snuck upon.

It really hadn’t been long from when Lucian entered the bar himself before he heard the jingle of the door open. Long enough for him to squander himself a drink and light a hand roller cigarette, but not long enough for him to truly get comfortable. His dark blue eyes would shoot up to the entrance at every slight sound, but it was typically a false alarm. Until it wasn’t. Alonzo had always been a… wild child in his youth. Lucian would’ve preferred to coin the term satan incarnate, but lively worked too. As with life, the adopted heir had mellowed out rather considerably, be it due to circumstance or maturity. Regardless, rather than an air of collection about the young man, Alonzo seemed to be a tad bit frazzled, which had Lucian perking an eyebrow in captivated concern.

He didn’t bother waving the bundled man over, Lonnie would see him soon enough and make his way over. Which he did indeed, and Lucian kept quiet until the other was within close range. The werewolf hadn’t bothered to stand up, rather his eyes briefly scanned the slender figure before him as he nodded a greeting. Names would serve no good in a place like this, even as neutral as it claimed to be. “Good to see ‘ya. Cold?” The relaxed welcome had quickly been offset by the smirk sprawling on Lucian’s face, his tone bordering the fine line of teasing and bullying. Nothing new had changed with their dynamic, despite their interactions being sporadic at best following the war, and they had always fallen back into a comfortable routine.

The blond had waved the offered gratitude off with his cigarette, the embers sparking a warm glow as the man took a drag long enough to fill his large lungs. It hadn’t been that much of a hassle to find the dedication to trek the journey to the speakeasy- in fact solely based by the rigid tension seizing the Saluccis body Lucian was rather glad he had agreed to come, even if it meant galavanting across two boroughs in the middle of winter. The brunette truly seemed to be a step away from insanity, so naturally the werewolf was desperately curious as to learn what was so vitally urgent they had to met in a squalor such as this.

If Lucian had been of friendlier and considerate stock, he would’ve voiced a concern along the lines of inquiring if Alonzo had been getting enough sleep- any sleep really lately, even if the sender was blatantly obvious. But the inquisitive would’ve been perceived as probing, likely not appreciated in the slight ness. Besides, deprivation of basic necessities was practically in the job description nowadays, it was rather a miracle that Lucian hadn’t developed bags under his eyes yet from the outrageous combination of far too much alcohol on far too little sleep. Even if the werewolf had felt nearly half as exhausted as Lonnie looked, it would’ve instantaneously evacuated his body at the suspense in the air. Lucian wasn’t even partially aware of the direction the conversation would be heading in, and he was practically already on the edge of his seat.

His senses may have been keen, but that didn’t make him immune to the unsettlingly budding discomfort that began to thicken the blood in his veins. The actions of his peer were starting to unnerve the large man a tad, surprisingly enough. Whatever weight the younger wished to get off his chest seemed to be immense, and it had the blond’s mind begun to race. The gnawing anxiety only worsened with every deep drag Alonzo took, as if he were mentally preparing himself to conduct the words he wished to speak. Lucian had never been one to rattle easily, at all in fact, but the anticipation was killing him. He had been a fraction of a second away from griping about Alonzo getting on with it and just spitting it out before the brunette had shuffled close and low over the table. Regardless, Luc remained in his casually sprawled back position along his seat, though his head had been angled a tad to indicate he was indeed listening. His hearing was a cute enough to where he’d be able to hear a pin drop a block away, so there was no need for the both of them to crowd like goons plotting misdeeds, even if that was a more common occurrence than not.

Lucian’s eyes had been focused on the burning ember of Alonzo’s cigarette, but they flicked up to level into hazel as the man began to speak. It was evident that the werewolf’s interest had been piqued, his left eyebrow minutely raising as he brought his glass to his lips to take a gulp of burning liquor. He hadn’t the slightest bit idea as to what kind of business proposition would require them to venture all the way out to Brooklyn, in a shoddy speakeasy, but he mulled thoughtfully over the words, clearly not intending to interrupt anytime soon.

However neutral the look on his face had been, there was a noticeable alteration as Alonzo began to speak once more. Lucian was far from dim-witted, he was perfectly aware that one of the oldest tricks in the book to gain favor was to butter your target up, which certainly sounded like what Lonnie was currently doing. The cold blue of the man’s eyes narrowed in calculation, though his lips remained curled into an impartial line. To his credit, Lucian remained diligently mellow throughout the oration, obediently listening even if it had meant him drowning the rest of the shitty alcohol in his possession. The final quip had he large man releasing a clipped sigh however, his fingers moving to extinguish the cigarette he bore carelessly and disdainfully into the top of the table they were seated at. His now free hand was lifted to card through his hair from the nape of his neck down his face before culling his own chin. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been this.

It seemed Lucian would be hard pressed for a response at the moment, an exhale more along the lines of a grunt escaping his frame this time. Maintaining eye contact had never been an issue for the blond, as most people would typically be off-put by the hauntingly cold sheen to his eyes, but among the two Luc had been the first one to break the hold, his eyes flitting to the tabletop as the hand which had clasped his jaw dropped. Rather than resting it on the table, his arm had closed the little distance between the two gangsters, but instead of contacting with flesh his fingers curled around Alonzo’s drink, which Lucian gladly helped himself to as he downed the contents in a single, smooth motion before setting the glass down to join his own empty one.

“So,” the words were a mimicry of Lonnie’s, blue eyes finally raising to met hazel once more. The only word to describe the look on the werewolf’s face was unimpressed, but he continued nonetheless. “What I’m hearin’ is you want’a sign our death warrants. This gets out, your brothers will definitely kill me, probably you next.” Lucian seemed keen to stress the emphasis on his own death, not so much Alonzo’s. “Not to mention the fact that there aint an inch of ground in New York your Family isn’t intimate with. Horrible idea if I’ve ever heard one.” The later words were spoken rather harshly, a cruel tint to them to partner the encroaching sneer on Lucian’s lips.

“But what the hell. Why not. Not like I enjoy livin’ or the sort. Guess I am tired of routine after all.” The words might’ve come as a shock following what had seemed like an initial rejection, but the collected hum to his words made it evident that surprisingly enough, the werewolf was game for the radical notion offered. If he had been cognizant of the consequences he would’ve faced should he have declined, it wasn’t obvious. Perhaps the man had indeed grown complacent in his employment, his edge dulling a bit. Lucian was not quite sure as to why he found himself so readily agreeing to Alonzo; after all the most meager slip up and they’d be dead as door nails, feet cemented to the bottom of the canal. But he would be lying if he said the proposition wasn’t alluring. It wasn’t Lucian’s place to question the Family, it never had been, but he’d only be lying to himself if he were to deny the fact get he felt his talents had been wasted. He was more than an errand boy after all, dammit. Far more. The prospect of fortune was like the beckoning call of a siren, even if it had meant risking crashing into lethal shores.

The hand offered out to him was examined like a specimen under a magnifying glass. As if Lucian had to internally debate as to whether or not he was committed to the cause. Words and aloud musings were one thing, whispers of treachery that would never truly see the light of day, ramblings of deceit that would only go as far as the tongue before dying. Acknowledging these perfidious thoughts with a handshake was something different altogether. Luc was a man of his word; nothing if not loyal to the bonds he forged. If he shook, the agreement was practically cemented in fate. Ironic that to do so would mean betraying the trust bestowed unto him by the Family who he was currently entertaining crossing.

However, the internal ramble was rather instantaneous, almost as if the blond possessed no hesitation as his own palm reached out to shake the one extended. Perhaps he used a bit too much force in the contact and grip, but the deed was done. The two were as good as dead at this point in Lucian’s eyes. Dead men walking and all, if you would. But that thought would only be materialized should the duo be found out, which Lucian had absolutely no intention of. He surely would not have agreed had he thought the plan to be impossible. Sure, the wolf was an absurdly blunt pessimist with a tendency to solely focus on the absolute worst outcome, and go a step further to prepare for said outcome, but he rather thought this to be a fitting plot. Surely no one would suspect the son and an enforcer to be in cahoots- against the Family no less.

As soon as they had finished their handshake, the large man was throwing a lackadaisical hand in the air, signaling to the barkeep that he clearly expected more booze, and wasn’t about to get up to retrieve it. It wasn’t that Lucian particularly enjoyed the choice of liquor the establishment offered; if anything it was among the most foul shit he’s poured down his throat, but it was certainly better than going throughout his day without some sort of stimulus. Not that with his high metabolism alcohol posed a threat to the man. Perhaps that was why, when given the chance, he drank so fervently. One might assume the blond was a raging alcoholic, but the truth was far too simple and far less exciting. It just took copious amounts of consumption over a short period of time until he began to feel a morsel of the offered effects of alcohol.

The man’s attention had soon flittered back to Alonzo, Lucian himself sitting further back in his chair deeply while Lonnie seemed to almost curl his body over the rough tabletop. It was starkly evident that the adopted son had a multitude of events and circumstances rampaging throughout his head, the way his body sat with tense anticipation and coiled discretion. If Luc knew any different, he would’ve assumed that this had been weighing on the kid for months- maybe that’s why he looked so bone-tired. Such treacherous thoughts surely had to pack a powerful punch to your conscious. Of course, that wasn’t a concern to cross the man’s mind.

At this stage of life, Lucian was quite certain that neither of the men present at the table possessed any semblance of a conscious. Not before the war, not after, and sure as shit not during. The werewolf was likely speaking for the majority when he said he’s done some things he’s not too proud of. Not necessarily remorseful or regretful, as he fully believed every act he performed was one out of necessity, but he’s cognizant enough of the many lines he’s crossed and rules he’s broken. He’s committed a lifetime full of sins in his short expanse of life, and Alonzo was no different. They were not good guys, not even mediocre really, and likely never would be. No amount of service would change that.

And Lucian was fine with that. He’s made his peace with the career path he walks. It wasn’t easy some days to shoulder the knowledge of the atrocities he’s committed and exposed others to, but that was the cynical cycle of life. You either rose to the occasion or made amends with defeat. And Lucian had always been in the pursuit of greatness, even if it meant damaging those below him. If success meant teaming up with Alonzo, then he would be complacent to put aside his former loyalties and camaraderie.

Evidently, Alonzo had more to say- much more if the sudden intensity was anything to go by. The werewolf was not of the coddling type, never had been. His body was far more suited to maiming and eviscerating than offering condolence and consolation. He’s sure if he offered anything of the sort to the son however he would’ve earned himself a sucker punch to the face. So Lucian remained silent, his attention offered up as he intently listened. He was always listening- it was something he was far too good at. Even if he had been doing his utmost to portray a neutral expression, he couldn’t help but crack a scoff and an eye roll partway through the rambling.

“God forbid Pietro inherits the business- we’d all be doomed.” It was a brief display of the wolf’s odd personality, chiefly characterized by solemn glares with sporadic humor intertwined. However, the humor, as well as the lilt of a grin, were reversed fairly quickly, a lighthearted scowl contorting Lucian’s lips down as he gave an unconvinced snort. “I always knew you had faith in my intelligence, thanks.” The sarcasm was laid on thick, but it was evident he wasn’t quite too wounded by the words.

It had taken long enough but the barkeep had finally scrambled out from behind the shoddy bar baring two glasses partially filled with an unsavory shade of brown liquid. Lucian offered no remark of gratitude, coiling his fingers around the glass as he raised his hand to bring the drink to his lips. Though he paused momentarily, clearly prepared to answer the posed inquiry in the affirmative, yet before he could even get a word in Lonnie was mumbling off again, drawing an exasperated eye roll from the blond as he resumed his distasteful downing of the drink. He should know better at this point in his life to think he’d ever be able to get a word in with Alonzo- once the kid had his mindset to something the determination was frightening, and god help anyone foolish enough to get in his way.

The certainty in the statement that the shipment would not be arriving had the blond’s eyebrows piqued in inquisition. As with before, the attentiveness of which Lucian paid attention was superb, clearly focused on every word laid out. It truthfully seemed as if the other man has already planned out everything in grand detail and dedication- all without the certainty of knowing whether or not Lucian would be up for such an act. Talk about confidence.

The nod Luc offered was one of agreement, his shoulders angling up from the back of his chair as he helped himself yet again to the other glass of liquor- it wasn’t like he had gotten it for Alonzo anyway. “You say that like its’a shipment of air. Salucci’s get real clipped about others touching their stuff- you of all people should know that. What kind of cargo we expecting?” Leave it to Lucian to nitpick over the most insignificant of details in a plan as calculated and controlled as the one offered. “‘S a good plan though. You really wanna go through with this though? So soon?” For someone who tended to keep his nose out of Family business, Luc really did have a lot of questions all of a sudden. Though it could be understandable, the slight edge of nerve in the way he spoke. It was no joke to try and pilfer expected shipments, lot of opportunity for things to go wrong.