One for the Money (6a/?)
anonymous
April 8 2010, 14:33:38 UTC
As it turned out, Big Tony really did make a "mean" lasagna. In fact, Arthur was fairly certain it was trying to kill him.
Alfred had insisted on talking over dinner, and if it hadn't been Alfred, Arthur would have suspected it was really all part of some clever plot to murder him. But Alfred would have been much more direct: if he wanted Arthur dead, he would have just shot him. He wouldn't put death by pasta past Tony, however. The little man could go from glaring daggers at Arthur to smiling at Alfred so fast that it gave him whiplash just from watching.
Yes, Big Tony and his lasagna were certainly out to get him, and Arthur wasn't even sure why. He was certain he didn't deserve this.
He glanced sullenly at Alfred, who was talking animatedly with Big Tony about sports or cars or something trivial. The worst part was that it had certainly already been more than "a few minutes," and he hadn't even uttered so much as a single word of what he'd come here for.
"Hey, Arthur, you've got to try this bread," Alfred suddenly said, breaking from whatever he'd been saying about some team. He shoved a bread basket at Arthur, and then pulled out a couple of thick slices from it for himself. "It's amazing."
"Er, yes," Arthur said, eyeing the bread as if it were conspiring with the lasagna. He hesitantly pulled a slice from the basket with two fingers and set it gingerly on his plate. "I'm sure it is."
Alfred had already gone back to chatting with Tony, who was glaring again. Arthur felt a shiver run down his spine.
He definitely didn't deserve this.
-- "Bless me Father, for I have sinned."
From the other side of the confessional came the kindly voice of the priest, "How long has it been since your last confession?"
Lovino recognized the voice. He hadn't set foot in this particular church in three years-not since the old man had died-but he remembered the voice of the elderly father. He remembered the torrential confession that had spilled from his lips to this man the day he'd found out about his grandfather's death.
He almost forgot to answer. "Two weeks."
"What is it you wish to confess, my son?"
Sometimes Lovino loved confession, loved being able to admit freely to things he normally wouldn't dare whisper to himself even in solitude. Other times, he hated it, when he was forced to take a good look at himself in all his shame.
Today, he hated it.
"I'm a coward, father," he ground out, the words trying their best to stick in his throat. "I'm a coward, and I'm a liar and a thief because of it."
And then the floodgates opened. He told about Gilbert's stupid idea and how he'd been talked into it, about the stupid plan and his part in it, about how he hadn't even been able to run away because he just couldn't leave the idiots to clean up their own mess, about how he had aided and abetted, albeit unintentionally, after his role should have been through.
He barely held back how he was, technically, still aiding and abetting, and the guilt of that gnawed at him even once he fell into silence. This should have been over already. He wanted it to be over. He didn't want to see those idiots a moment longer.
The quiet voice of the father cut through the silence that had settled. "You are sincerely repentant?"
He was. He was, but even if he received absolution here, those morons were still back at the restaurant. His sin was waiting for him there.
"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I repent sincerely of all my sins."
One for the Money (6b/?)
anonymous
April 8 2010, 14:35:18 UTC
"So, Tony, did you find that information I asked for?" Alfred asked once the plates from dinner had been cleared away, beaming at the little man.
Big Tony nodded, rising from the table. "Yeah. Let me get it."
As soon as Big Tony was out of sight, Arthur slumped in his chair as a sense of relief washed over him. He was genuinely surprised he'd survived dinner, but no matter how much he'd rather wait in Alfred's death trap of a car at this point, it seemed that Alfred was finally getting down to business. He couldn't miss this.
"I'm glad you and Tony are getting along," Alfred commented cheerily.
Arthur choked.
He would have demanded what part of being terrified by the small, bald man looked like "getting along," but Big Tony chose that moment to reappear, carrying a thick file. The words died in Arthur's throat as the prior feeling of relief evaporated.
"Everything you asked for," Big Tony said, "and then some. You've already got access to the stuff from the feds, but these boys have started catching the eye of various crime rings around the world: flashy bank jobs like they do aren't exactly in style these days. Most of this is from the Russians; they've been keeping a real close eye on their work lately."
Big Tony held the file out to Alfred, he popped it open and started spreading its contents across the table: photographs and enlargements, pages full of detailed descriptions of the robberies, list of stolen cars and possible offenders, maps of banks and routes, and even an odd DVD.
Big Tony tapped one of the photographs. "This one you might find interesting," he said. "It's why the Russians think your guys from the latest job are fakes."
Alfred frowned, sliding the photograph closer, and Arthur craned his neck for a better view. It showed three men, all wearing military uniforms and Venetian masks, climbing into a car parked on the curb.
"Compare it to this one, from the job you were at," Tony said, sliding another one forward. The scene was similar, but...
"So they didn't bring the shortie this time," Alfred said, seemingly unconcerned. He shrugged. "They've rotated members before."
"It'd make it the only job he missed," Big Tony countered. "But that's not the problem. Take a look at the leader."
Alfred and Arthur both leaned closer.
-- In the shadow of the stairwell, three figures watched and waited.
"Can you hear anything they're saying?" Antonio whispered.
"Hélas, non," Francis replied, his eyes glued to the trio sitting at a corner table in the restaurant. Tex and Big Tony were talking quietly, and Arthur looked even more uncomfortable than usual.
"They've been here for over an hour. Maybe I should just go over there," Antonio suggested.
"Don't even think about it," Gilbert hissed, glancing briefly at the Spaniard. "We don't know why Tex and Kirkland are here together. Until we do, we can't risk them seeing either you or Francis. I'm the only one that Tex won't recognize."
"So are you going to go over there?" Antonio asked.
Gilbert was quiet, considering the question. They couldn't hear a thing from over here and getting closer would be a risk, but... It could be worth the risk.
"Ah, it may be too late for that, mes amis," Francis said quietly, pointing now towards the door of the restaurant, which was hanging open.
One for the Money (6c/?)
anonymous
April 8 2010, 14:36:50 UTC
"Restaurant's closed!" Tony barked at the sound of the bell on the door chiming.
"Since when?" a voice demanded in reply.
Something about the sound of that voice, or maybe the tone, was familiar. Alfred had he'd heard it before.
Arthur was still bent over the photograph, but Alfred looked up to see who the person with the oddly familiar voice was. He was young, early twenties possibly, with brown hair and a very annoyed expression on his face. Something about the young man's face was even more familiar than his voice, but he couldn't quite place it...
"Oh," Tony said. "Welcome back, Romano."
It clicked.
"You're Romano?" Alfred asked, his eyes widening slightly with the realization. He'd seen Romano from a distance once before, three years ago when he'd first met Tony, and he'd heard him shouting that day... He'd heard stories about the kid, too, but he'd never actually met Rome's eldest grandson face-to-face.
Romano was scowling. "What's it to you?"
Next to Alfred, Arthur looked up, his brows drawn together in question, and then looked towards the door. His brows furrowed further.
"Lovino?"
Romano's attention suddenly snapped to Arthur, and the color soon drained from his face. Alfred looked at Arthur.
"No, not 'Lovino'," Alfred corrected. "Didn't you hear Tony? He's Romano."
"Why're you here, Kirkland?" Romano snapped.
Alfred glanced at Romano, and then back at Arthur. "Wait; you two know each other?"
"He lives in my town," Arthur murmured in reply. Then, to Romano, "I was dragged along for dinner."
"Restaurant's closed," Romano growled. It looked like he was shaking now, though Alfred wasn't entirely sure it was from rage. "Get the hell out."
Arthur was rising to his feet, looking as though he'd be happy to oblige. Alfred rose as well, clapping a hand on the Englishman's shoulder.
"Hey, there's no need to get mad, okay?" he said, looking at Romano as he held Arthur in place. He smiled-one of the bright, friendly smiles that had always gotten people to go along with him when he'd been Tex. "We were just talking to Tony, and we'll leave as soon as we're done."
Romano was still scowling, but he didn't say anything.
"You're one of Rome's grandkids, right?" Alfred continued, still smiling. "I'm really sorry about what happened that day."
Romano looked away.
-- Lovino was going to be sick.
He didn't know who the hell this guy was, but he knew he wasn't part of the family. He was a friend of Kirkland's and maybe a friend of Big Tony's, but he was certain he wasn't a friend of the family.
And yet, he knew of Lovino. Of Romano. Of what had happened to Rome.
Sure, the death of the capofamiglia "Rome" Vargas had been big news, but something about the way this guy was offering condolences... It made it sound like he knew what hadn't been in the papers.
And then there was goddamned Arthur Kirkland.
Maybe he was overreacting, but it didn't feel like coincidence that Kirkland was here. It hadn't even been a week since he'd stolen-no, borrowed-the man's piece-of-shit car, and they were miles and miles and miles away from Kirkland's house or Lovino's own apartment.
"Are you okay?" the stranger that knew him asked, sounding concerned.
He wanted to tell the man to shut up. He wanted to tell him and Kirkland to leave again. He wanted to make them leave, or else get Big Tony to make them leave. But more than that, he wanted to run away. He wanted to run away, hole up somewhere and hide like he was supposed to be doing, and wait for this whole shitstorm of bad luck to clear up.
And this time, he didn't want to be followed by the three damn morons who had started it all.
He opened his mouth to tell the man to mind his own damn business, but tinny strains of "The Star-Spangled Banner" suddenly filled the air.
One for the Money (6d/?)
anonymous
April 8 2010, 14:38:15 UTC
The stranger whipped a cellphone from his pocket, answering it with a clipped, "Hello?" He cursed a moment later, and then ended the call with, "I'm on my way."
He turned to the table, gathering together the papers that were scattered across it. "Alfred, what-" Kirkland started to ask.
"Thanks for the help, Tony," the stranger-Alfred-said, cutting Kirkland off. "Let me know if you find anything else."
Big Tony nodded silently, and Alfred turned towards the door. He hurried out, Arthur following at his heels. Lovino watched them go, relief washing over him as soon as the door swung shut.
On the far side of the room, Antonio poked his head out from the shadows of the stairwell. "Are they gone?"
Lovino grimaced. Maybe it was too soon to feel relieved after all.
-- "What's going on?" Arthur demanded, buckling his seatbelt as Alfred's truck peeled away from the curb at high speed. "First you need to talk to that weirdo, and then it's not so important that you can't have dinner first, and then once you've finally started talking business you go charging off! First you don't want me looking at your top-secret files, then you don't mind if I look at Tony's files, and then you're practically shoving all of the files into my arms!"
Alfred's face was grim, and he was quiet. Coming from Alfred, quiet was never good.
"I'm already in this deep, so you might as well tell me already."
A long moment of silence passed.
"Alfred."
The American sighed, and the grim look passed into weariness. "The Venetian Robbers," he finally said. "I've been trying to catch them for the past two years, ever since their first job. There are certain constants with their jobs, but for the most part... they've been unpredictable. They show up in a small-town bank, rob the place without hurting anyone, and then vanish. Last year, we came up with a small list of high-risk banks, and I went undercover in one of them."
Arthur nodded. "I know that much." Alfred took his eyes off the road to look sharply at him. "I read most of your file," he admitted. "Did you really think I hadn't?"
Alfred returned his focus to the road. "I guess not," he mumbled. There was a pause before he continued, "So a little over half a year ago, they stopped pulling jobs; the one earlier this week was the first since then. And whether or not those guys were fakes after all, they've just hit another."
"That was the call you got?"
Alfred nodded.
Arthur looked down at the haphazard pile of papers and photographs in his hands. He slowly started arranging them into some semblance of order, silence hanging overhead. After several tense minutes had passed, he spoke up again, "We didn't get my car towed."
"Actually, I already took care of it," he said, his tone lighter than before. "Made a call when I forgot my keys; it'll be waiting for you back at your place." He glanced at Arthur with a dazzling grin. "Am I a hero or what?"
Arthur briefly felt annoyed that Alfred hadn't told him earlier-like over dinner-but he ended up giving him a small smile. "You seem to think so," he said.
Alfred made a noise of protest, and Arthur chuckled.
"So how did you meet 'Big Tony', anyway?"
"Tony helped me out of a huge pinch three years back," Alfred answered casually. "He's been a good friend ever since."
Three years ago. Arthur had always thought he'd known Alfred well, but there was more and more he was realizing he didn't know. There was a part of Alfred he'd never been privy to, a part that had left him asking questions after he'd disappeared. And everything came back to...
"Alfred," he said quietly. "What happened three years ago?"
Alfred didn't answer.
Notes and translations: Hélas: (Fr.) alas Mes amis: (Fr.) my friends Capofamiglia: (It.) head of the family
Apologies that it was another long wait for this part... And I'm really touched that so many of you were still interested in the story after the last delay! All the nice comments have made me very happy. Don't worry: this one won't be abandoned. Even if it takes a while longer, I'm committed to seeing this through to the very end!
Re: One for the Money (6d/?)
anonymous
April 8 2010, 16:22:06 UTC
Yay update! Ok, now I'm really curious - what happened? Also, those three suck at hiding. Don't put Lovino in trouble, dumbasses! Also-also: the Venetian robbers? The plot thickens!
Re: One for the Money (6d/?)
anonymous
April 10 2010, 06:40:02 UTC
I did not believe my eyes when I saw this on the fills list!!!! YAY!
Excited to know you're not dropping this. Oh Tony and Arthur, even in AU you guys don't get along xD And the mystery gets bigger! I'm wondering who these robbers are...
Re: One for the Money (6d/?)
anonymous
April 11 2010, 05:51:06 UTC
As long as you plan to finish this wonder fill, dearest Author anon, I will wait for however long without complain.
We finally get more information on the Venetian Robbers! Is it just the bad luck of the trio that they were so similar? Or is there something more to it?
Alfred had insisted on talking over dinner, and if it hadn't been Alfred, Arthur would have suspected it was really all part of some clever plot to murder him. But Alfred would have been much more direct: if he wanted Arthur dead, he would have just shot him. He wouldn't put death by pasta past Tony, however. The little man could go from glaring daggers at Arthur to smiling at Alfred so fast that it gave him whiplash just from watching.
Yes, Big Tony and his lasagna were certainly out to get him, and Arthur wasn't even sure why. He was certain he didn't deserve this.
He glanced sullenly at Alfred, who was talking animatedly with Big Tony about sports or cars or something trivial. The worst part was that it had certainly already been more than "a few minutes," and he hadn't even uttered so much as a single word of what he'd come here for.
"Hey, Arthur, you've got to try this bread," Alfred suddenly said, breaking from whatever he'd been saying about some team. He shoved a bread basket at Arthur, and then pulled out a couple of thick slices from it for himself. "It's amazing."
"Er, yes," Arthur said, eyeing the bread as if it were conspiring with the lasagna. He hesitantly pulled a slice from the basket with two fingers and set it gingerly on his plate. "I'm sure it is."
Alfred had already gone back to chatting with Tony, who was glaring again. Arthur felt a shiver run down his spine.
He definitely didn't deserve this.
--
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned."
From the other side of the confessional came the kindly voice of the priest, "How long has it been since your last confession?"
Lovino recognized the voice. He hadn't set foot in this particular church in three years-not since the old man had died-but he remembered the voice of the elderly father. He remembered the torrential confession that had spilled from his lips to this man the day he'd found out about his grandfather's death.
He almost forgot to answer. "Two weeks."
"What is it you wish to confess, my son?"
Sometimes Lovino loved confession, loved being able to admit freely to things he normally wouldn't dare whisper to himself even in solitude. Other times, he hated it, when he was forced to take a good look at himself in all his shame.
Today, he hated it.
"I'm a coward, father," he ground out, the words trying their best to stick in his throat. "I'm a coward, and I'm a liar and a thief because of it."
And then the floodgates opened. He told about Gilbert's stupid idea and how he'd been talked into it, about the stupid plan and his part in it, about how he hadn't even been able to run away because he just couldn't leave the idiots to clean up their own mess, about how he had aided and abetted, albeit unintentionally, after his role should have been through.
He barely held back how he was, technically, still aiding and abetting, and the guilt of that gnawed at him even once he fell into silence. This should have been over already. He wanted it to be over. He didn't want to see those idiots a moment longer.
The quiet voice of the father cut through the silence that had settled. "You are sincerely repentant?"
He was. He was, but even if he received absolution here, those morons were still back at the restaurant. His sin was waiting for him there.
"Yes," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I repent sincerely of all my sins."
--
Reply
Big Tony nodded, rising from the table. "Yeah. Let me get it."
As soon as Big Tony was out of sight, Arthur slumped in his chair as a sense of relief washed over him. He was genuinely surprised he'd survived dinner, but no matter how much he'd rather wait in Alfred's death trap of a car at this point, it seemed that Alfred was finally getting down to business. He couldn't miss this.
"I'm glad you and Tony are getting along," Alfred commented cheerily.
Arthur choked.
He would have demanded what part of being terrified by the small, bald man looked like "getting along," but Big Tony chose that moment to reappear, carrying a thick file. The words died in Arthur's throat as the prior feeling of relief evaporated.
"Everything you asked for," Big Tony said, "and then some. You've already got access to the stuff from the feds, but these boys have started catching the eye of various crime rings around the world: flashy bank jobs like they do aren't exactly in style these days. Most of this is from the Russians; they've been keeping a real close eye on their work lately."
Big Tony held the file out to Alfred, he popped it open and started spreading its contents across the table: photographs and enlargements, pages full of detailed descriptions of the robberies, list of stolen cars and possible offenders, maps of banks and routes, and even an odd DVD.
Big Tony tapped one of the photographs. "This one you might find interesting," he said. "It's why the Russians think your guys from the latest job are fakes."
Alfred frowned, sliding the photograph closer, and Arthur craned his neck for a better view. It showed three men, all wearing military uniforms and Venetian masks, climbing into a car parked on the curb.
"Compare it to this one, from the job you were at," Tony said, sliding another one forward. The scene was similar, but...
"So they didn't bring the shortie this time," Alfred said, seemingly unconcerned. He shrugged. "They've rotated members before."
"It'd make it the only job he missed," Big Tony countered. "But that's not the problem. Take a look at the leader."
Alfred and Arthur both leaned closer.
--
In the shadow of the stairwell, three figures watched and waited.
"Can you hear anything they're saying?" Antonio whispered.
"Hélas, non," Francis replied, his eyes glued to the trio sitting at a corner table in the restaurant. Tex and Big Tony were talking quietly, and Arthur looked even more uncomfortable than usual.
"They've been here for over an hour. Maybe I should just go over there," Antonio suggested.
"Don't even think about it," Gilbert hissed, glancing briefly at the Spaniard. "We don't know why Tex and Kirkland are here together. Until we do, we can't risk them seeing either you or Francis. I'm the only one that Tex won't recognize."
"So are you going to go over there?" Antonio asked.
Gilbert was quiet, considering the question. They couldn't hear a thing from over here and getting closer would be a risk, but... It could be worth the risk.
"Ah, it may be too late for that, mes amis," Francis said quietly, pointing now towards the door of the restaurant, which was hanging open.
Lovino had returned.
--
Reply
"Since when?" a voice demanded in reply.
Something about the sound of that voice, or maybe the tone, was familiar. Alfred had he'd heard it before.
Arthur was still bent over the photograph, but Alfred looked up to see who the person with the oddly familiar voice was. He was young, early twenties possibly, with brown hair and a very annoyed expression on his face. Something about the young man's face was even more familiar than his voice, but he couldn't quite place it...
"Oh," Tony said. "Welcome back, Romano."
It clicked.
"You're Romano?" Alfred asked, his eyes widening slightly with the realization. He'd seen Romano from a distance once before, three years ago when he'd first met Tony, and he'd heard him shouting that day... He'd heard stories about the kid, too, but he'd never actually met Rome's eldest grandson face-to-face.
Romano was scowling. "What's it to you?"
Next to Alfred, Arthur looked up, his brows drawn together in question, and then looked towards the door. His brows furrowed further.
"Lovino?"
Romano's attention suddenly snapped to Arthur, and the color soon drained from his face. Alfred looked at Arthur.
"No, not 'Lovino'," Alfred corrected. "Didn't you hear Tony? He's Romano."
"Why're you here, Kirkland?" Romano snapped.
Alfred glanced at Romano, and then back at Arthur. "Wait; you two know each other?"
"He lives in my town," Arthur murmured in reply. Then, to Romano, "I was dragged along for dinner."
"Restaurant's closed," Romano growled. It looked like he was shaking now, though Alfred wasn't entirely sure it was from rage. "Get the hell out."
Arthur was rising to his feet, looking as though he'd be happy to oblige. Alfred rose as well, clapping a hand on the Englishman's shoulder.
"Hey, there's no need to get mad, okay?" he said, looking at Romano as he held Arthur in place. He smiled-one of the bright, friendly smiles that had always gotten people to go along with him when he'd been Tex. "We were just talking to Tony, and we'll leave as soon as we're done."
Romano was still scowling, but he didn't say anything.
"You're one of Rome's grandkids, right?" Alfred continued, still smiling. "I'm really sorry about what happened that day."
Romano looked away.
--
Lovino was going to be sick.
He didn't know who the hell this guy was, but he knew he wasn't part of the family. He was a friend of Kirkland's and maybe a friend of Big Tony's, but he was certain he wasn't a friend of the family.
And yet, he knew of Lovino. Of Romano. Of what had happened to Rome.
Sure, the death of the capofamiglia "Rome" Vargas had been big news, but something about the way this guy was offering condolences... It made it sound like he knew what hadn't been in the papers.
And then there was goddamned Arthur Kirkland.
Maybe he was overreacting, but it didn't feel like coincidence that Kirkland was here. It hadn't even been a week since he'd stolen-no, borrowed-the man's piece-of-shit car, and they were miles and miles and miles away from Kirkland's house or Lovino's own apartment.
"Are you okay?" the stranger that knew him asked, sounding concerned.
He wanted to tell the man to shut up. He wanted to tell him and Kirkland to leave again. He wanted to make them leave, or else get Big Tony to make them leave. But more than that, he wanted to run away. He wanted to run away, hole up somewhere and hide like he was supposed to be doing, and wait for this whole shitstorm of bad luck to clear up.
And this time, he didn't want to be followed by the three damn morons who had started it all.
He opened his mouth to tell the man to mind his own damn business, but tinny strains of "The Star-Spangled Banner" suddenly filled the air.
Reply
He turned to the table, gathering together the papers that were scattered across it. "Alfred, what-" Kirkland started to ask.
"Thanks for the help, Tony," the stranger-Alfred-said, cutting Kirkland off. "Let me know if you find anything else."
Big Tony nodded silently, and Alfred turned towards the door. He hurried out, Arthur following at his heels. Lovino watched them go, relief washing over him as soon as the door swung shut.
On the far side of the room, Antonio poked his head out from the shadows of the stairwell. "Are they gone?"
Lovino grimaced. Maybe it was too soon to feel relieved after all.
--
"What's going on?" Arthur demanded, buckling his seatbelt as Alfred's truck peeled away from the curb at high speed. "First you need to talk to that weirdo, and then it's not so important that you can't have dinner first, and then once you've finally started talking business you go charging off! First you don't want me looking at your top-secret files, then you don't mind if I look at Tony's files, and then you're practically shoving all of the files into my arms!"
Alfred's face was grim, and he was quiet. Coming from Alfred, quiet was never good.
"I'm already in this deep, so you might as well tell me already."
A long moment of silence passed.
"Alfred."
The American sighed, and the grim look passed into weariness. "The Venetian Robbers," he finally said. "I've been trying to catch them for the past two years, ever since their first job. There are certain constants with their jobs, but for the most part... they've been unpredictable. They show up in a small-town bank, rob the place without hurting anyone, and then vanish. Last year, we came up with a small list of high-risk banks, and I went undercover in one of them."
Arthur nodded. "I know that much." Alfred took his eyes off the road to look sharply at him. "I read most of your file," he admitted. "Did you really think I hadn't?"
Alfred returned his focus to the road. "I guess not," he mumbled. There was a pause before he continued, "So a little over half a year ago, they stopped pulling jobs; the one earlier this week was the first since then. And whether or not those guys were fakes after all, they've just hit another."
"That was the call you got?"
Alfred nodded.
Arthur looked down at the haphazard pile of papers and photographs in his hands. He slowly started arranging them into some semblance of order, silence hanging overhead. After several tense minutes had passed, he spoke up again, "We didn't get my car towed."
"Actually, I already took care of it," he said, his tone lighter than before. "Made a call when I forgot my keys; it'll be waiting for you back at your place." He glanced at Arthur with a dazzling grin. "Am I a hero or what?"
Arthur briefly felt annoyed that Alfred hadn't told him earlier-like over dinner-but he ended up giving him a small smile. "You seem to think so," he said.
Alfred made a noise of protest, and Arthur chuckled.
"So how did you meet 'Big Tony', anyway?"
"Tony helped me out of a huge pinch three years back," Alfred answered casually. "He's been a good friend ever since."
Three years ago. Arthur had always thought he'd known Alfred well, but there was more and more he was realizing he didn't know. There was a part of Alfred he'd never been privy to, a part that had left him asking questions after he'd disappeared. And everything came back to...
"Alfred," he said quietly. "What happened three years ago?"
Alfred didn't answer.
Notes and translations:
Hélas: (Fr.) alas
Mes amis: (Fr.) my friends
Capofamiglia: (It.) head of the family
Apologies that it was another long wait for this part... And I'm really touched that so many of you were still interested in the story after the last delay! All the nice comments have made me very happy. Don't worry: this one won't be abandoned. Even if it takes a while longer, I'm committed to seeing this through to the very end!
Reply
Ok, now I'm really curious - what happened? Also, those three suck at hiding. Don't put Lovino in trouble, dumbasses! Also-also: the Venetian robbers? The plot thickens!
Reply
Thanks for continuing! I really wuv this fill.
Guilty Romano/Lovinio is hilarious. Now that I reflect back it seems Arthur has had a really bad time regarding cars.
captcha: trunks west ~ Looks like they'll be on the run again soon.
Reply
Excited to know you're not dropping this. Oh Tony and Arthur, even in AU you guys don't get along xD And the mystery gets bigger! I'm wondering who these robbers are...
Will be stalking you til the end!
Reply
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
:D
Reply
We finally get more information on the Venetian Robbers! Is it just the bad luck of the trio that they were so similar? Or is there something more to it?
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment