Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
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Remember though that you need not post your updates unless you posted in a new part
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If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd sworn on his grandfather's grave that he'd never let himself get drawn into the mafia business, by the end of the first full day cooped up in the basement Lovino would have gladly murdered someone. His only reprieve from idiocy had been when Big Tony asked him to help in the kitchen, but then Antonio had come along and offered to help as well.
Francis and Gilbert had stayed in the basement, and Lovino tried not to think about what they might be up to. He just hoped Big Tony didn't keep anything dangerous (or illegal) down there.
"Lovi, you never actually answered," Antonio said as he carefully cut a tomato in slow, smooth motions. "Why did Big Tony call you 'Romano'?"
He was tired. Tired, and worn out from the day, and it just wasn't worth yelling at Antonio (again) that it wasn't his business, because the Spaniard was too dense to comprehend that he didn't want to talk about it anyway. That was his story, at least, and he was sticking to it.
"It's what Gramps used to call me," he admitted, staring at the sauce he was stirring. "I was Romano, and my brother was Veneziano. But ever since he bit it, only the old friends of the family still call us that."
"Oh," Antonio said. "Do you miss him?"
"Sometimes," was Lovino's answer.
…Or that's what Lovino's answer would have been, if it hadn't been for the sudden noise that had erupted outside the kitchen then. It sounded suspiciously like a table had been upturned, complete with shattering glasses and plates.
"You two: basement, now!" Big Tony roared, bursting into the kitchen a second later. "If the cops show up, I don't want them anywhere near one of Rome's boys! Spic, you'd better protect Romano with your goddamn life."
Lovino acted on reflex, starting to yell that he could protect himself, dammit!, only to be shocked into silence by the unusually serious look on Antonio's face as he clamped a hand on his shoulder. By the time he'd gathered his wits back together, they were already halfway down the stairs, and Gilbert was charging past them, chanting something that sounded suspiciously like "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!"
He wondered what he'd ever done to deserve this.
…Other than participate in a robbery, of course.
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Apparently the agent had forgotten that Arthur still had a key for "Old Reliable," or he'd never have let the files out of his sight.
He flipped through the pages quickly, studying them with narrowed eyes. It seemed there were three important facts to the case, but Arthur was less concerned with identifying the robbers involved as the serial perpetrators than he was with the timing of it all. Alfred had only been undercover on this case since last year, but he'd disappeared from Arthur's life nearly three years ago…
The file said nothing, unfortunately, about what Alfred had been doing other than his year undercover, and even that was vague and mostly full of mundane details about his fellow employees at the bank and frequent or noteworthy customers. Even if he'd been assigned to the case since the first time the "Venetian Robbers" had struck-he checked the file again-two years ago, where had he been? Why hadn't he come back?
And that was to say nothing of the case itself. Codenames, masks and military dress, a terrible getaway driver… Why in God's name had the robbers stolen his car this time and then abandon it, anyway? He didn't even live in the same town as the bank they'd robbed!
The familiar sound of an engine on the verge of death caught Arthur's attention, and he tossed the file into the front passenger seat. Alfred had finally caught up to him, and it was time to let him know that he wouldn't be rid of Arthur Kirkland so easily.
If he hadn't been so focused on showing Alfred up, perhaps he would have noticed a particular pair of pictures on the last page of Alfred's notes: one "Francis Bonnefoy," who had been barred from entering the bank ever again, and one "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," a friendly young man who had gotten to know everyone but didn't have an account.
If he'd seen them, perhaps one of his questions would have been answered.
Notes:
Apologies for the wait, language, and the general lack of the bad friends in this update. Next chapter should readjust the focus back to the trio!
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Oh ho, I like the way where this is going, anon. And I'm loving the tiny Spain/Romano hints that keep showing up.
Keep up the brilliant work. o;
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More soon, please? :D
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Stalker Arthur = love
update = love
re captcha: $60,000 hussars (?!)
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